11. Odds and Sods (Tying Up Loose Threads)

-Paul-

There weren't many eligible women to recommend in Glenbogle, but Lexie was true to her word and introduced Paul to Maureen when she came back from her long summer holiday. They liked each other well enough but it wasn't a terrific match. For one thing, Maureen seemed overly impressed by Paul being the son of Hector MacDonald, even if he did come from the wrong side of the sheets. This flattered Paul but also annoyed him. Furthermore, he found Maureen a bit schoolmarmish. She was prone to correcting his grammar and speaking in a teacherly voice if she was explaining something he didn't know. They saw each other a few times, and then only occasionally after that.

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So, later that fall when Paul and Jess were preparing a plot of land that was to become the beaver pond, Paul was open to suggestions. "Are you still seeing Maureen," Jess asked.

"We see each other now and then, but she's not my girlfriend," said Paul.

"If you're interested in meeting someone new, I have a possibility for you."

"Certainly not one of your friends," Paul laughed.

"Paul, your prejudices are showing," Jess chided. "Portia's sister Cait just broke up with her boyfriend of 5 years because he was not willing to commit. She's looking to be fixed up. Are you interested?"

"What's she like?"

"She's 33, she does public relations for the hospital in Inverness, she likes to hike, in fact she's expressed an interest in coming here. Oh, and she's attractive."

"She sounds worth a try," Paul said.

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The next weekend Paul and Jess were waiting for Portia and Cait to drive up for the afternoon. "I never dreamed I'd be going on a double date with you," Paul said.

"Well truth is stranger than fiction. Here you are," Jess smirked.

The two sisters got out of the car and introductions were made. Paul could see that the Portia and Cait resembled each other quite a bit. They both had light brown hair and grey-green eyes, but Cait's hair was chin length, whereas Portia's was short and spiky like a boy's.

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They went to see the wolves first. The visitors were impressed. Then they started on one of the trails. They began as a foursome, but before long they were separated into couples.

Double dating with Paul and Cait was, in fact, a funny concept to Jess and Portia, in spite of Jess' wisecrack to Paul. The two young women were ahead on the trail gossiping about the two hopefuls who were lagging behind.

"Too bad we don't have a powder puff case so we could take it out and look at them in the mirror," Jess was saying.

"Right," Portia laughed. "Like how many lesbians do you know who carry powder puffs."

"I used to wear makeup," Jess protested.

"After you were out?"

"No, before. But Sondra, says she wears makeup to work."

"Really, Sondra? She must be a babe."

Jess gave her a playful slap.

Meanwhile 30 feet back, Paul and Cait were smiling at each other in that eager to please way that people do when they're on a first date that's going well.

"You were in the Falkland Islands?" Cait asked. "Were you in the war?"

"No, I was two years too late for that. I was in a small peace-time force. I mostly guarded government buildings and marched around to impress visitors."

"Did you see any penguins."

"Yes, and sea lions and elephant seals, as well."

"I've just taken up bird watching," Cait said.

"You should come here for one of Jess' early morning bird watching tours," Paul said.

"Do you have any ptarmigans out here?"

"Hey Jess," Paul called out. "Do we have any ptarmigans out here?" Paul and Cait hurried to catch up with Jess and Portia.

"Ptarmigans," Jess repeated. "They are only seen on high mountains. You should look for them on Ben Bogle."

"Ben Bogle's my department," said Paul. "If you want to climb Ben Bogle, I'm your man," he grinned.

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So things started out well for Paul and Cait. They went out a second time, un-chaperoned, as Cait put it, to dinner and a movie. They had long talks on the phone. Then Cait's old boyfriend called her and came over with a diamond ring. He got down on one knee and proposed. She accepted.

Paul was disappointed, to say the least. Jess was apologetic.

"I can't say I'm broken-hearted after two dates," Paul said manfully. "But she is a nice girl. It seemed like things might have worked out for us. I wished her the best of luck when she called. I hope the bloke deserves her."

"Well, you still have me," Jess said clapping Paul on the back.

"Yeah," Paul said, putting his arm around Jess. "You're my best mate. I never dreamed I'd have a mate as pretty as you."

"Well, truth is stranger than fiction," Jess said.

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-Andrew, Molly, and Golly-

Molly was painting Golly at his "new old" house, the one he used to live in before he sold it to Andrew. She was beginning to get used to finding Golly there instead of Andrew. But she wasn't completely used to it. She was still surprised to find Golly's things inside.

Golly was sitting on the porch railing, his back up against the post, one foot on the ground. He was wearing a baseball cap and holding an empty glass, as he had already drunk the whiskey.

"Okay, that's it for today," Molly said. "Thank you Golly. That's a difficult pose. You hold it well.

Golly got up and shook himself loose. "I tell ye, it'd be a tough way to make a livin', doin' this all day."

"Nobody does it all day, and very few make a living at it," Molly said. Golly watched as she packed up her equipment. "That copying or forging that Andrew was doing. Could you describe it to me?" she asked.

"I can do better than that. I can show it to ye."

"What?"

"I have a photograph of it. It's on Jessica's computer."

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Jess opened the door of her house and let Golly and Molly in. "Jessica, would you show us that picture ye have on your computer that was just between yew and me?" Golly asked.

"Yeah," Jess said. "This way."

In a short time they were all seated around the computer and Jess pulled up the picture on the screen. The picture was of two sketches side by side on an easel. The one on the left was completed. The one on the right was a copy in progress. It was a portrait of a very old man from the 1800s. He was wearing a shabby coat and had long white hair and sideburns. He appeared to have no teeth. The works were both done in charcoal and crayon.

Molly recognised it immediately. "I've seen a portrait very much like that," she said. "It was one of Vincent Van Gogh's Orphan Men, a war veteran from the alms house. This one looks like an unfinished version or a preliminary sketch of one I saw in Amsterdam."

"Is this what Andrew was forging?" Jess asked. "A Vincent Van Gogh? How could he get away with that?"

"It would be a chancy business," Molly agreed. "Even if Andrew were really good, and I can't tell by looking at this, there are chemical analyses that could be done to determine the age and the chemical composition of the materials used. It never could have withstood that kind of scrutiny. But buyers don't always have the tests done, as they are expensive."

"So is that what he went to Amsterdam for," Jess asked. "Did he study the ones in the museum so he could do the forgery?"

"No," Molly said. "He had already done it by the time we got there. I think he was passing it off to his connection when we were there."

"Wow, just like out of the movies," Jess said.

"In fact, I know just when he did it. We were in a cafe. He came out with a different satchel than he went in with."

"Did you see them make the exchange?" Golly asked.

"No, but do you know what? I just realized. He had me carry the thing when we went through customs. We exchanged bags because mine was heavier."

"He put you at risk, Molly," Golly pointed out.

"So he did." Molly said softly. "I suppose I'm good to be rid of him...Thank you Jess. Have you shown this to the police? I'm sure they will be interested."

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Golly rode Molly back home on his motorcycle. "Come take a walk with me, if you have time," Molly offered. The summer was ending and it was getting dark earlier. They walked in the dusky evening.

"Golly, you are my oldest and truest friend. I want you to know that. I want you to know how much I value our friendship." She linked arms with him the way she used to with Andrew, before their friendship blossomed into a romance.

"Thank ye Molly. Ye know I've always admired and respected ye. I'd hate to see any harm come to ye."

"I loved Hector. For over 40 years I loved that barmy, difficult man. But he was honest. Well mostly honest."

"When Hector was dishonest, it was to shield ye from pain, not for his own gain."

"True... Then I loved Andrew. Andrew was easy to love. He was so considerate, charming, and generous. He was loaded, so it was easy to be generous. But he was too good to be true. So now he's gone, like a pleasant dream upon waking."

"Mebbe next time ye go lookin' for someone to court ye'll look for someone with a few more rough edges," Golly suggested. "Someone who's just good enough to be true."

"Someone like you, Golly?"

"Not necessarily, me," Golly said, embarrassed. "You might want someone more your own station."

"If I wanted someone more my own station, I would have married Kilwillie a year ago," Molly laughed. "Besides, what is my station? I live in a castle, but I'm nearly penniless. It's a good thing I have my art income or I'd be dressed in rags, or completely dependent on Archie."

"So you wouldn't mind livin' in a wee, modest hoose, if you loved the person ye shared it with, and it was near yer family, of course?"

"Not at all. But I don't think I'm ready to think about love again for awhile. I need to heal a little bit more, as Lizzie would put it. Meanwhile, I'm glad I have you, Golly. I know you would never let me down."

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-Graveside Visit-

It was late October by the time Archie and Lizzie got around to visiting Hector's grave. They were talking about it at breakfast when they thought of including Paul.

"We're visiting Father's grave. Would you like to come," Archie asked him.

"Now?"

"Yeah, we're just leaving.

Paul hesitated for a moment. "Yeah, uh, am I dressed okay?" He was wearing his usual jeans. Then he noticed that Archie and Lizzie were similarly dressed. "I guess he'll take us as we are."

"Or not," said Archie. "You never know with Father."

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"Is this your first visit since the funeral?" Lizzie asked Archie as they were driving.

"Yeah, to tell you the truth, I really don't know what the point of visiting a gravesite is. "

"You don't believe he somehow senses your being there?"

"I doubt it."

"Or that you can feel his presence more there than anywhere else?"

"I'll let you know."

"I've visited my mum's grave twice," Paul said. "I kind of talk to her. Tell her the things I wished I had said before. Tell her what's new with me. I don't know that she can hear me, but it makes me feel better."

Archie and Lizzie nodded sympathetically.

"I don't know what I'm going to say to a man I never met, though."

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When they arrived at the churchyard, and found the grave, the three siblings gazed down at it.

"Soldier, sportsman, laird and gentleman, always himself" Paul read aloud

Lizzie bent over to lay the flowers she had brought when she noticed something and picked it up.

"Look, it's a shot glass," she said.

"Someone's been leaving Father whiskey," observed Archie. "And it looks like he drank it."

Lizzie made a face and put it back. "Who do you think would do that," she asked, "Kilwillie?"

Archie shrugged.

They stood silently for a short time.

"So is he here? Does anyone feel his presence?" asked Lizzie in an anguished tone.

Archie began to roll his eyes but stopped himself and said, "We're here together and we're remembering him. That's what counts."

"I'm remembering him," Lizzie said, "but I'm not remembering many good things. Maybe that's why I can't feel him. We never had much use for each other in life. Why should it be any different now?"

"Lizzie, don't think that way." Archie found himself saying, without knowing what was coming next. "If he is in some kind of spirit place, he... understands all the things he was clueless about in life. He would care about you now in ways he wasn't able to before." He still didn't have any idea what he meant by these words but he wanted, somehow, to comfort Lizzie.

"How do you figure that happens?" Paul asked, his hands in his jacket pocket.

"Well..." Archie concentrated hard, as if he were recalling a long forgotten experience. "The way I see it," a person dies, and he sees this light, and the light is a kind of enlightenment. It shows where one went wrong in life."

"So it's kind of like Purgatory, where you repent," Paul said.

"You could see it that way. I guess one repents. But then one gets whisked away to a party."

"A party?" Lizzie and Paul both looked sceptical.

"Yeah, it's a welcome to Eternity party." Archie smiled doubtfully. "They have all one's favourite foods and music, anybody who was ever anybody is there, as long as they're dead."

"Archie, you're being silly." Lizzie said. "You don't believe any of this."

"No, I don't. I just made it up. But it's the way it ought to be."

"So that's what Eternity would be, if you were in charge - one big party?" Paul asked.

"No, then I think one should go to his own customised paradise. For Father it would resemble the Highlands so he could stalk, fish, play golf, and drink. But, here's the catch."

Now he finally understood what he had been babbling about. "Whenever one of us here wanted to talk to him about anything, he'd have to stop and listen, even if we were complaining about him. And because he had received enlightenment he'd understand what we were talking about for a change."

"This sounds good," Paul laughed. "What church do you go to?"

"When I go, I go to that one over there." Archie said pointing to the small stone chapel on the premises. "But this isn't what they taught us in Sunday School."

"So you mean I could rant and rave to Daddy about whatever I wanted and he'd have to listen." Lizzie said.

"Yes, without interrupting or sending you to your room or threatening to disinherit you."

"I would tell Daddy about how every guy I went out with, I was hoping would give me the love I never got from him. I went to bed with some of the world's biggest sleazebags that way."

"I'd tell him how much he hurt my mum," Paul said. "I think he needs to hear that a few more times before I have anything else to say to him."

"How about you Archie," Lizzie said. "What would you say."

Archie paused to give it some thought. "I'd tell him that Lexie and I got married and that we are having a baby," he began. "He and I had a big fight about my engagement the day before he died... I'd tell him I'm running Glenbogle as I see fit, without regard for what he would have thought when he was alive."

"That's good," said Paul. "Sounds like you've made your peace with him."

"But if I did think I had his approval, that would be even better," Archie said wistfully.

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-Ewan-

For a long time it was a little known fact about Ewan that he did needlepoint. He picked it up from his sister in the year before he left home. Literally, he picked it up, because she would leave hers lying around, he'd pick it up, work on it for a short time, and put it back where he found it. She got annoyed because he wasn't that good at it yet, and she'd have to take out all his stitches, and redo it. Shortly before he left home she bought him his own kit which contained a pair of nautical scenes. One was of a ship, shown from the bow, with the figurehead (the top half of a nude female) prominently displayed. This he did first, and hung over his bed in Glenbogle House.

The second was of the same ship viewed from the side sailing on the ocean. It was the HMS Monarch. On the bottom of the piece were the words, "God bless Monarch and all who sailed in her." The second piece took longer than the first. First of all, the subject matter was inherently less interesting. Second of all, letters were harder to do. But some time before St Andrew's Day the second piece was done too and he hung it in the kitchen above the stove.

Ewan like doing needlepoint for several reasons. One was he found it relaxing. If he hadn't had too much to drink, he'd do a little before he went to bed. The other was he thought it would be helpful in meeting girls. It hadn't worked yet, but he was convinced that someday he was going to get some lass to come to his room to see his needlepoint.

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- Lizzie and Flem-

When Lizzie and Flem first met, they were both immediately attracted to each other. One unusual thing for Lizzie was that she didn't try to get him into her bed the first night. She and Dr Ross had been talking about getting to know someone before bedding him. "It's quality not quantity that matters in relationships," became Lizzie's new rule to live by.

Flem's having to leave the day after he arrived at Glenbogle made it difficult for the relationship to evolve in the normal way. But they were on the telephone with each other every day and were becoming quite close over long distance. By the time Flem returned at the end of the summer, they were ready for phase 2 of the relationship.

In fact, phase 2 went so well, they were beginning to talk about phase 3, living together outside of Glenbogle. This proved to be tricky, as they didn't know what kind of work Flem would be doing, or where they would live. Flem wanted to be a lounge pianist, which might mean a lot of travelling. They weren't sure whether to make Edinburgh, or London, their base.

Meanwhile, other aspects of their relationship were moving along smoothly. Flem promised never to drink around Lizzie, even though now all she was asking was that he drink in moderation. Flem agreed to a vegetarian household, but not vegan. Lizzie not only agreed to that, but said she would start eating eggs and milk again. "It's better for Martha," she rationalized. They also agreed to practice all religions, in order to become one with the brotherhood and sisterhood of man and woman.

Flem and Martha hit it off right away. Flem was really just a big kid himself and liked to give Martha piggyback and horsy rides. He even spoke what little French he knew to her and she would laugh at his pronunciation.

Then Flem got a call from a friend. Would he like to try out for the British Pops Orchestra? Would he ever! Flem was nervous. He doubted if he could make it playing for Britain's most prestigious band. He practiced for hours every day. He went to the audition without much expectation.

He came back and announced he was accepted as an alternate, someone who would substitute for the regular pianist when he was sick or taking a day off. He actually could expect work one day a week out of this. Also, he also found a regular gig in a London hotel. So that was settled. They were moving to London. Lizzie liked this because there would be plenty of yoga teaching opportunities there, plenty of Alcoholics Anonymous meetings to attend, and a therapist recommended by Dr Ross who employed humour therapy.

By early November it was time for them to leave. The family gathered round to say goodbye. There were hugs and kisses and handshakes all around. Martha, clutching Stéphane the cat, her favourite toy, got lifted into the arms of uncles Archie and Paul.

"Lizzie, It's been so nice having you here," Molly said. "It's wonderful seeing you happy at last."

"Lizzie, Flem," Archie addressed them both. "You two take good care of each other. I know you will."

"I'm going to miss you, Lizzie," Lexie said. "I never had a sister before."

"Neither did I," Lizzie said fondly.

"And I never had a sister before, either," said Paul. "It's been experience that's surpassed my wildest dreams."

"Look you, big brother," Lizzie said. "You watch out for our little brother. Don't let him get too full of himself just because he's laird."

"Who, me?" Archie said, hands on hips. "I'll have you sent to the dungeon for that."

Golly approached the group. "I'm glad I got here before ye left. I'm proud of ye, Lassie," he said giving Lizzie a hug. "Haste ye back."

"Thank you Golly, I will. We'll be back for Hogmanay."