1
The luggage carousel looped around, eerily empty. Where there should’ve been my suitcase, I saw the conveyor belt do its circles with nothing on top. I didn’t care.
I’d made it alive to Scotland! We’d made it alive, as far as my companion could be considered that. Adriana Darling had officially died in 1929, but here we were in Scotland, standing at the not quite hallowed ground of Edinburgh Airport. In my hand I held my carry-on case which contained among bare necessities for myself an original brick from our family villa, an original Chanel evening dress, and a few other things formerly belonging to my great-great-aunt. Said relative now hopped onto the carousel, clapping with delight as she embarked on her circles.
“No,” I hissed before she disappeared inside the contraption.
My knees went weak. This had felt like the longest flight of my life. Adriana pouted.
“I haven’t been allowed to have any fun for ages, Genie.” I rubbed my temples. Keeping a vivacious ghost in check during a flight from Boston to Edinburgh, without ending in the loony bin, took its toll.
I’d done my best to keep her away from the booze, and even crocheted a net shawl from a metallic thread. It served as a Faraday cage because as considerate and delightful as my great-great-aunt usually was, she also possessed certain powers over electricity, and sometimes she lost control over them. Literally.
It was one thing blowing fuses at home and the Darling villa in Cobblewood Cove which we’d shared since she had reappeared earlier this year. It was another thing to let her loose on an airliner.
I counted my lucky stars I didn’t have to include her on the documents they made us fill out before landing. The correct description would have been “Occupation: Spectral magnet for murder, mayhem, and mishaps”.
“You look worried, darling,” Matt said as he made his way back to my side, past the passengers from the next flight due to pick up their luggage from this very carousel.
I hoped they had more luck, as I motioned Adriana to come with me to meet him halfway.
Matt Blake, art and museum security expert extraordinaire, dedicated boyfriend, and the reason Adriana and I were here at all, had checked with the airline staff that my suitcase had really gone on vacation without me. Alas, it had.
“We’ll sort this out,” he said. A comforting smile crinkled his dark eyes.
“I’m sure he will.” Adriana fluttered her lashes at him. Although only I could see her, Matt had always felt comfortable in her presence. A warm, fuzzy feeling, that’s how he described it.
While it had taken me a few months into our relationship to come clean and confide that I kind of came as a double pack with an eternally 21-year-old flapper oozing old movie star glamour, he’d taken it pretty well.
“Do they know where my wayward luggage is?” I asked hopefully.
“Amsterdam. I’ve been promised it will be back in your hands tomorrow, or it will be once we’ve picked it up. That’s the important question for now. Do you want to stay in Edinburgh for one night or shall we press on and improvise a little, style-wise?”
I gazed around. So did Adriana, with wide-eyed wonder. As small as Edinburgh Airport was, it held a surprisingly large array of all things Scottish, including a whiskey shop, one with coats of arms and kilts, and the promises of castle tours – and one featuring ghosts, which I hoped Adriana had overlooked.
Small Christmas trees adorned most shops and I’d been told the Christmas market in Edinburgh was among the most popular on the British Isles. As tempting as it sounded, it also guaranteed crowds, which were never a good idea in connection with my great-great-aunt.
Keeping an eye on an excitable ghost was not an easy feat at the best of times. Even in familiar surroundings in our small town between Boston and New York I’d dealt with my share of surprises. Letting her roam around a large or at least larger city was not on my agenda.
“We’ll proceed as planned,” I said. “At least we will after I’ve taken care of a few emergency purchases.”
Since I only needed a few garments to tide me over until my errant luggage caught up with me, I resisted the temptation to go onto the city centre with Princes Street and all the shops I’d only read about. Instead, I asked Matt to enquire at the car rental desk about the nearest shopping mall. I figured a change of clothes or two would do well enough. Also, it would offer less temptation for my lovely relative. In a mall there had to be a cozy coffee shop where I’d bribe her to stay with Matt. On second thought, maybe that wasn’t the smartest plan. She might flit off without him noticing as soon as she spotted a dog or another animal.
Taking her along as a shopping advisor involved taking the carry-on suitcase with the brick to fuel her spectral life-force so far from her birthplace, but that was a small price to pay.
Matt had reserved a Range Rover for the journey north. He stowed away his luggage, which had arrived safely in in its entirety, in the boot. I stuck out my bottom lip. Okay, he’d only brought two small suitcases, but it still wasn’t fair. Amsterdam! I only hoped the airline staff kept their promise to send my belongings from the Netherlands on to Scotland on the next plane.
Adriana draped herself against the car and mustered me. “I’ll make sure that you won’t look like a scarecrow. We don’t want to frighten him away.”
I glared at her, stung by both her dismissal of my personal charms and my fashion sense. We couldn’t all look like an early movie star, from her wavy golden hair and creamy complexion to her slinky evening frock. She’d worn the silk dress the night that had led to her untimely demise. Its material counterpart lay in my carry-on case, wrapped in half a dozen layers of tissue paper.
She heaved a tolerant sigh. “Have you looked around?” she asked pointedly.
I had to admit I’d seen more fashionable displays than the trickle of people in slogan T-shirts, sweatpants and the occasional bare midriff, heading towards their rentals. I wondered if any of them had bothered to check out the weather forecast for Scotland at Christmas time.
At least Matt and I were dressed appropriately in jeans and sweaters.
Matt steered the Land Rover with reassuring ease towards our destination.
For once Adriana had fallen quiet. I used the rearview mirror to check on her. She pressed her nose against the window and drank in the sights. So did I. Scotland had pull out all the stops to impress today.
Blue skies, distant hills, and houses straight out of a period movie greeted us after all the hours spent sealed into the airplane cabin.
A happy glow spread through me. What was a small mishap with my suitcase compared to all the excitement that lay ahead?
At the mall, I hurried to make my selection. With only a short delay until I’d be reunited with my jeans, sweaters, and elegant dresses I’d packed for the momentous trip, a pair of black slacks, a top and a cardigan should do.
When I looked at the price tags of the pieces I coveted, I gulped and resigned myself to look like the poor cousin for a bit, until Adriana swooped in to save me, or at least my pride, and my bank account as well.
I couldn’t complain about money since starting a gelato business alongside my jewelry design, but I had no intention on depleting my funds unnecessarily. My great-great-aunt came with unexpected expenses, although she more than made up for it. Adriana’s nose was the secret behind my success as an ice-cream maker.
“Try this,” she urged. She’d discovered a cashmere twin-set in a rich scarlet hue, which had the additional appeal of being in my size and heavily reduced.
“Where’s the catch?” I asked the sales assistant.
“There’s a wee tear.” She showed me a rough spot at the back of the top. It needed eagle eyes to spot the flaw.
Her voice had that soft, Scottish lilt Adriana swooned over. I heard her practicing it right now, repeating every word. I couldn’t blame her, because I liked it too. It had such a warm, reassuring quality to it.
With my purchases completed, we set off again. Towns gave way to heather and woodlands, and, in the background, craggy hills. The blue sky changed to leaden, and the first snowflakes settled on the windshield. I rolled down the window in inches to breathe in the heady air that held the promise of more snow and the tantalizing idea of a white Christmas.
Birds of prey wheeled overhead, until the flurry became a thick curtain of fat flakes, hiding any bird life from view.
Our progress was slower than I had expected, and I kept my fingers crossed that we would reach our destination before darkness swallowed everything.
“Isn’t it romantic?” Adriana whispered. “Can’t you just see Bonnie Prince Charlie fleeing in weather like this, accompanied by his trusted helpmate?”
“When he was disguised as Betty Burke, you mean?” I asked, my voice almost imperceptible. Adriana’s hearing rivaled that of a bat, and I didn’t want to distract Matt while he navigated remote gravel roads treacherously slick with ice. Also, the volume I used gave him a hint, whether I was actually talking to him or conversing with my lovely relative.
Snow crunched under our tires as we crossed small stone bridges and navigated narrow corners that sent my adrenaline soaring.
The Scottish Highlands were a place of beauty, but they also held considerable dangers, especially now that our headlights were the only source of illumination left. I’d expected street lamps, and maybe a few small towns offering lights, but I’d been wrong.
I hadn’t noticed how tightly I had clenched my hands until I painfully felt my nails dig into my palms.
“Almost there,” Matt said with a reassuring grin.
He was right.
After what had seemed like an eternity driving through the snow drift mixed with inky darkness, we pulled up outside an impressive stone wall. Cast-iron lanterns illuminated what must be a moat.
Behind it, lights shone through the windows of a castle straight out of the storybooks.
We had reached our destination.