"Babe! Babe! Are you home?"

Isabella looked up from the 89-page property assessment that she had been reading for the past two hours. She could feel a headache starting to form between her eyes and she kept gazing longingly at the liquor cabinet in her the corner.

Ever since her promotion to Vice President last month, her days on Wall Street had gotten even longer. She was well aware that her co-workers felt she only got the promotion because her father was the CEO of the very same bank. While she could admit there was truth to that, she was fiercely determined to prove to them all that it wasn't just because of who her father was.

In this effort to prove herself to her fellow financial executives, she barely saw Jake let alone her friends from college. It was just temporary, she would remind herself in moments of quiet angst or exhaustion. She just had to put in the time to her career now and would have more balance in the future.

It had never been the case for her workaholic father, but she told herself she would be different.

When she heard several male voices downstairs and realized it was more than just Jake, she thought to herself that she would need something stronger than a glass of white wine.

"Upstairs," she called.

"Get your ass down here now!" he hollered with a laugh. "I have a surprise!"

With a sigh, she left her office where she had been holed up in for that Friday evening and went down the large banister stairway. She could hear at least three other men with him, all laughing boisterously.

"Hey guys," she greeted them before looking at her grinning husband. "What's up?"

"We had an…exceptional third quarter at Lehman," he started, looking like he had been snacking on a canary.

Lehman Brothers had just seen an unprecedented 27% increase in profits. It had made front page of the business section in the New York Times. Her own bank had seen a similar spike in earnings, manifesting itself into a large bonus she had just received on her desk earlier that day.

Bollig and Wulff downed a shot of some very expensive vodka at Jake's statement. "Fuck yeah we did!"

Jake laughed and swallowed down the alcohol when they passed him the small glass.

"Like I said," he laughed, pulling her into his side so that she could smell the alcohol mingling with his expensive cologne. "A good quarter," he said, hugging her into his size to which she had to smile at his tenderness.

They hadn't been in the best place lately, but he still had sweet tendencies.

"And the surprise?" she asked dubiously.

"Tell her Jakie boy!" Wulff egged him on. "Tell her what you bought her!"

Jake turned and grinned adoringly at his wife. "Bought you a whole island, babe! Off the coast of Florida."

Isabella's mouth fell open in surprise.

Wulff and Bollig cheered and took another shot.

"You did?" she asked. He had just bought an entire strip of properties on Martha's Vineyard after Lehman's performance in quarter two of the year. "Why?"

"Why the hell not? Because I can," he grinned before planting a kiss on her lips. "Are you excited?"

Isabella was speechless.

"Yeah, I can't wait to see it," she hedged.

"Aw come on babe, it's an asset! Another investment! The housing market is rock solid, I'd be an idiot if I wasn't buying properties. The value only fucking goes up!"

Isabella forced a smile.

While Jake had immense faith in the economy and believed that the housing market was infallible, Isabella had her doubts about investing so much into property. The last time they had discussed it, they had gone to bed without speaking as Jake had not even been willing to consider what she was saying. Now, he was smiling and charming and she had no desire to get into it with him. Again.

"That's great, Jake."

"To the housing market!" Bollig laughed, clearly intoxicated as he poured another round of the $400 alcohol for all of them.

Isabella took the small glass and clinked against the guy's glasses.

"To the housing market!"

~O~

She was quiet again.

It was one step forward, two steps back with his wife.

They had slowly come to an accord, a comfortable place where they were speaking and interacting kindly with each other.

And it had gone away.

Sunday afternoon after they had finished their work and left Sleat for the day, Isabella reverted to one word replies and was off to her bedroom by 7:30pm.

"Not feeling well," she mumbled as a reason.

"Did ye want any medicine?" he offered.

"No thank you," said Isabella as shook her head. Before he could offer anything else by means of remedy she added, "Goodnight."

To her credit, she did look sick.

Part of his brain, a part he wished would stay silent, wondered whether or not she was once again just avoiding him, regret about marrying him and being stuck on Skye filling her mind.

But he ignored that part and opened a bottle of beer.

When they had left the distillery, he had swung by the office and grabbed a small pile of papers, some of the documents that were giving her trouble. While she was too polite to say it to his face, he knew they had been so haphazardly done that even she was having trouble deciphering what had been meant by them.

With a sigh, he sat down at the table, got comfortable, and started pouring over the statements.

Somewhere along the way, perhaps even that first day when she had barged into the office, he had grown fond of her.

And if what's best for her was to leave Skye as soon as possible…he would help her.

Edward had woken up with a headache and it had only intensified as his Wednesday commenced.

His wife had uttered a total of eight words to him over breakfast and the drive to the distillery before withdrawing to her office hideaway for the day. He had surreptitiously tried to search for signs that she was upset at him, but for the life of him, he couldn't detect anything to lead him to believe she was even upset at all.

Simply withdrawn.

He also could not find any signs that she wasn't upset him either.

~O~

While distilling, Wilson had discovered a leak in one of their casks. It was not a huge leak, but it was not going to be cheap to fix.

And Jasper and Robert were in a piss mood.

It was a perfect storm and frankly, he was not at all surprised when he found himself in the lobby while Robert and Jasper welcomed the few guests they had for a Sleat Flight tour. There was an English family of four that was mulling about, having chatted cordially about the proximity of their home to Jasper's maternal grandmother's home, as well as a retired American couple with backpacks and a large camera, absorbing all of the lobby displays.

The bell rang and in walked two American men who appeared to be in their mid 30's. They were chortling about something or another, not caring how boisterous their entrance was.

Edward looked over to catch Jasper's wary glance.

"Hallo lads, welcome to Sleat," he forced out with a smile as they quieted down and made their way to the counter.

"We are here to take flight," one said without preamble while the other snickered. "Because apparently the real tasting tours are only on selective days at this establishment."

Jasper raised a single eyebrow, unimpressed. Unbeknownst to himself, Edward wore the same expression.

"Yes," he replied stiffly, losing much of his embellished accent, "there's not much demand in the winter months, and that tour is only for whisky connoisseurs."

"Dude," he scoffed, "You're looking at some of the best fucking connoisseurs the city of New York has ever laid eyes on."

"Show some respect," the other added with a laugh as pulled his wallet out of his back pocket.

"What do ye do in New York?" Jasper asked as they rifled through their wallet, carelessly thumbing through hundreds of pounds.

Edward gave a friendly greeting to the American couple but kept his eyes on his cousin.

"We work at Bank of America," the second one answered.

"Yer a banker then."

It was said in a cold tone, more accusation than question.

"Aye aye captain," he chuckled, "As you folks would say. Investment banking."

His buddy laughed.

Clearly this would not be their first drink of the day.

"Yer still on Wall Street?" Robert asked, chiming in with an equally cool tone.

Edward saw both of his cousins square their shoulders as they stared down the entitled men.

"Are you kidding?" one said.

"Why the hell would we leave?" the other finished exuberantly. "The money is still plenty good, whatever the media whines about. Always gloom and doom with those dicks…exaggerating everything every day."

Jasper and Robert were silent.

Edward considered intervening but honestly didn't feel compelled to side against his angry kin.

The two young men were coming of age in a time when there were no jobs being created, no opportunity for them. They had no stability to look forward to as employers fought to stay in business, not thinking of expansion, simply thinking of survival.

Edward knew Jasper wanted to work, knew he was a good worker. But Sleat simply couldn't afford to give him hours and the hours he worked on the fishing boats were few and far between. He knew Esme's sister was spiraling into debt in America, trying to pay for her little boy's medical expenses and he knew Jasper spent them what little money he had.

Robert could barely afford the roof over his head and had started to talk about moving in with his parents again. Before he had talked about moving away and trying out life in the city...now, he couldn't fathom affording that with his savings diminished from the lack of steady income.

They were angry and they had every right to be.

Edward himself was angry. Angry at the callous privilege that was standing in front of him.

And for that reason, he did not intervene in the horrible customer service taking place in his business.

Finally, still holding their payment untouched, Jasper breathed deeply through his nostrils and spoke.

"Get tae fuck, arsepiece. Have ye no idea the damage ye and yer people have done? Have ye no idea about the lives that have crumbled from the actions of banks like ye? Any idea how many businesses are struggling to keep their doors open while banks like ye continue to wait like bloody hawks, circling a fresh kill to buy them out and sent them to the food shelves? Any fucking idea how many folks are struggling and struggling because fuckbumpers like ye are allowed to have any fucking authority over anything or anyone? Any idea how much taxpayers have paid to save yer arses?"

Edward's mouth tightened.

The two Americans jaws fell open.

And the rest of the visitors were staring.

None of them had ever heard anyone speak to a customer in that way.

"Or is that ye just dinnae care? That's bloody it isn't it? Ye dinnae or cannae care about anything 'cept yer money, yer booze, and yer lasses. The lot of ye are selfish, selfish bastards and lacy-heided wankstains. If ye dinnae care, then I dinnae care to spend any bloody time with ye or sell ye any of this whisky. Awa' ye and chew mah banger!"

Robert snatched the money from Jasper and slapped it on the counter for them.

"Oan yer trolley, ye fucking weapons, we dinnae want folks like ye here."

Speechless, the bankers turned on their heels and made a much different exit than their entrance.

Edward lifted his hand to his face and tiredly rubbed at it.

He didn't see his ghostly white faced wife dart into the bathroom, having heard their tirade.

Another wee chapter - Isabella and Jake, darlings of Wall Street.

I am attempting to maintain a frequent updating schedule with these shorter chapters so I will see you back in a few days...Sleat will have an interesting visitor show up.

All the love for you all.