20
Michael and Claudia spent most of the night sitting up in the small room they’d rented at a local B and B. Thankfully they’d had to walk a couple of kilometers to get there, which cleared their heads as well as worked off the heavy meal.
The B and B was a three-story stone house dating back centuries. Purple lupines lined the neatly kept garden. It had a quaint garden gate to admit them. The proprietor was right out of a brochure: pleasantly round, cheerful, matronly gray hair, and offering a traditional breakfast with or without haggis. “Mostly for the tourists, dearie. We don’t eat it ourselves.”
Michael could tell that the room was exactly Claudia’s kind of luxury. Rich quilts on the dark-framed beds. Comfortable wingback chairs and a pretty gas fireplace. Nothing fancy but everyt
