Auld Lang Syne

  Auld Lang Syne

  Rebel Carter

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 by Rebel Carter.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Edited by: Lena Tudor

  Cover Design: Wicked Smart Designs

  Digital Edition 1.0

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Epilogue

  Thank you!

  About Rebel Carter

  Chapter One

  Dependable.

  That one word filled me with annoyance. Dependable was an adjective car salesmen used to entice a buyer. What you looked for in a sturdy pair of work shoes. Not what you used to describe a woman in her late twenties.

  Or maybe it was, considering I had never stepped out of line and always put others before myself, a quality children’s princess movies had sworn to me was the key to happiness. I always came through in a pinch, for anyone and everyone.

  Okay, so maybe dependable was what people used to describe me now, but it wasn’t what I would let them continue to do. Dependable and sensible people didn’t just up and book a Scottish holiday, did they? They didn’t message each and every last bakery owner in the city of Sithean, determined to run away and apprentice as a baker. For years, I had worked for my family’s real estate and property management company. It had been nice...in the beginning.

  My father had finally seized his dream to be his own boss and to do it with us, his seven children, seemed like the cherry on top of one amazing sundae. Until I had been forced to step in as property agent and also office manager. I was just so good at organizing and keeping things in line.

  Then I became the scheduler—my two older brothers just couldn’t seem to keep their appointments straight.

  Next came the contracts, because I had an eye for that sort of thing, you know? At least according to my younger siblings, a sister and a brother I loved to death who were more often than not brunching rather than selling or showing properties.

  I hadn’t complained. I had done it as the dutiful daughter, the eldest daughter, and middle child. I swore birth order must have had something to do with my willingness to bend over backward for the approval of my parents. My mother had passed away when I was fifteen and I felt compelled to bring her level of light and warmth to my family. I was a daddy’s girl through and through and the reward of his smile and bear hugs was more than enough to push me to accept before-sunrise mornings and late nights at my desk reviewing possible purchases and revising our portfolio.

  And that had been my routine. Sleep, work, dinner with the family—yes, I cooked that too—clean up, then more work and maybe a well-deserved glass of whiskey with my father before I slipped away to look over the latest deal he was considering.

  He was closest to me, no secrets about how alike we were and how much he shared with me.

  It had been one of those routine nights. The only thing different was the lights from the Christmas tree twinkling in our den. It was the day after, and tradition said the tree would stay until the first of the new year—or until I harangued one of my brothers into helping me drag it out to the curb.

  I walked down the hall, head already buried in a new portfolio option, when I heard my younger siblings, Inez and Brian, talking in the kitchen. I quickened my step, eager to join them, when I dropped the sheaf of papers I held and almost groaned at the mess.

  Dropping to my knees, I began collecting the papers when I heard Inez laugh. She’d always had a good laugh. Carefree and boisterous. The type of sound that made you smile when you heard it.

  This wasn’t one of those laughs. This was meaner, colder, and I froze when I heard it.

  “Look, what does it matter? It’ll get done,” she said.

  “Inez...she’s going to stop picking up your slack, you know that?”

  Inez scoffed. “She hasn’t so far. And what’s this about my slack? You were right there with me at brunch on Saturday. I didn’t exactly have three pitches of mimosas on my own, did I?”

  Brian sighed. I could almost see him shoving his jet black hair from his face. “All I’m saying is that Del is—well, she could use a break, okay? It’s Christmas.”

  “That was yesterday,” Inez shot back.

  Another long-suffering sigh from Bryan. “That’s not the point. I’m just saying she got a pressure cooker and a vacuum cleaner for Christmas. Imagine if that had been your gift.”

  Inez made a sound akin to a cat gagging and Bryan hummed.

  “Exactly. Besides, she’s not going to like you springing this on her.”

  My ears burned. What were they talking about? What was I going to pick up now?

  Brian was right that I needed a break. He was also doubly right that I didn’t much like being given appliances for Christmas. It had stung but I’d pushed it aside and thanked my siblings for what I knew had been pricey purchases.

  My father had sprung and bought me a new red silk dress. Where he thought I would wear it I had no idea, but it still made me happy. The stress seemed to be mounting with each new day, and something pleasurable from my siblings as a gift would have been appreciated.

  One more thing on my shoulders and I swore I was going to...going to…

  My mind went blank and I frowned.

  What the hell would I do?

  “Going to do what?” Inez asked, echoing my thought, a note of challenge in her voice. “She’s going to be the good daughter and do exactly what needs to be done. You know that.”

  She was the youngest of us, and it showed. We had spoiled her more than we should have. I scowled at her words, aware that I had helped create the little monster in the kitchen, but that didn’t mean Inez wasn’t right.

  I had always done what was needed. Always.

  “Just because she’s dependable—” Brian began, but Inez laughed that mean laugh I was so unaccustomed to hearing. Where had she been lately? Who had influenced her like this?

  But my mind spun away from Inez’s whereabouts with her next words.

  “Dependable like a workhorse. Del is good for work and nothing else. Don’t you know that yet? She’s basically doing our work right now and you know what? I’m not up for changing it.” I heard the sound of a chair being pushed back and scraping against the wood of the kitchen floor. “You can get ready for the Martinez showing, but I’m not. She can handle it.”

  Brian said nothing for a beat, and then he spoke. “When are you going to tell her?”

  “An hour before,” Inez replied without hesitation. “Tell her I’m sick or something. She’ll swoop in and do all the work. Daddy will be happy and I’ll be well into my cocktail.”

  “Inez…” Brian’s voice trailed off, but I knew what would happen. He was only older than her by a year, a span of time that vanished when they were together. Inez steamrolled him into following whatever plan she had. I knew this would be the same, and I felt rage burn in my chest at the pair of them.

  How could they do something like that? How could they expect me to pick up one more thing? To clean up their mess, and for what? Drinks? They were twenty-four and twenty-five for god sake, not sixteen!

  I stayed where I was in the hallway whil
e my brother and sister finished their planning while I did their work of showing and snagging a much-needed client. The Martinez investment would be a game changer for us.

  For my father.

  My eyes fluttered closed at the thought and I swallowed back a sigh. Of course I would do the showing. There was no other way.

  Once they left the kitchen I slunk in, head down as I made a beeline for the cake I had finished that morning. Lemon curd with buttercream frosting: perfect for some emotional eating.

  Inez’s words stung. She’d called me dependable, a workhorse, good for nothing but work. She made me sound like a robot. I’d barely turned thirty and everyone knew thirty was the new twenty! I was practically a newborn in the eyes of the world, and yet...what did I have to show for it?

  I frowned, my eyes dropping to the cake slice. I had always dreamed of being a pastry chef or a baker, something that allowed me to feed people sweet treats and bask in that smile they got when taking that first bite of heaven.

  I’d taken a few baking courses at the local cooking school. I had even been pretty good, and I’d contemplated full-time enrollment, but then my dad had opened his business. I’d gotten sucked into helping his dreams come true. It was only supposed to be for a few months, but that quickly became a year and then two... and now?

  It had been seven years.

  Where had my life gone? Seven long years of working with only family, no social life, no special trips, and no fancy clothes.

  I had utterly forgotten about me.

  “What the fuck?” I whispered, shoving my cake away with a shaky breath.

  Where had I gone? Inez was right.

  The little monster was right.

  I had to do something. I had to stop being dependable. But that was something which required time and space. If I was here, there was no way I would be able to not help. I was self-aware enough to know staying home in Texas wasn’t an option; hell, even hopping the state line wouldn’t be near enough space, which was saying something coming from a state that took 14-plus hours to traverse.

  No, I had to go somewhere far. Far, far away, where they wouldn’t think dependable Delilah would go.

  Grabbing my phone, I pulled up a travel site and began to scroll through available options. My fingers froze when they came across the words Apprentice Now! Travel for Free!

  I bit my lip and stared down at the link. I could work easily enough, right? Inez had said as much, hadn’t she? Who cared where I went, so long as I got space to remember who I was. I had plenty in my bank account to make an escape if things took an indentured servant turn.

  My eyes scanned the list of available destinations and I raised an eyebrow.

  Los Angeles? Not far enough away.

  Canada? Still not far enough.

  Paris? Predictable. Even for dependable Delilah.

  Scotland? Now that was unexpected. I didn’t know jack-all about Scotland outside of what a bad impersonation sounded like and the vague idea that sheep’s stomach was considered a delicacy. It would be the furthest thing from my family’s mind when they discovered I was gone.

  Tapping on the link, I saw a list of available dates, and my stomach flip-flopped when I saw tomorrow’s date on the list. Rising from my seat, I made for my room. It wouldn’t hurt to think about what I would pack on my midnight run from responsibility.

  The site had a list of available apprenticeships, and I felt my breath catch when I saw baking on the list. A bakeshop by the name of Me, Myself, and Pie would take on apprentices for a month to 6 months, experience unnecessary but appreciated. The contact information for the shop’s owner blinked tantalizingly in front of me.

  Could I call now? It was just past one am my time...which a quick search informed me meant it was after seven am Scotland time.

  Bakers rose early, so surely now was as fitting a time as any, wasn’t it? With shaking fingers I dialed the number and waited. I rubbed my sweaty palms on my pants as I paced.

  Maybe I shouldn’t be doing this...Inez hadn’t really meant what she’d said...I should just—

  “‘Lo?” a cheery voice answered.

  “Hi!” I winced at my near-screech. “I mean, ah, good morning. Is this…” I jerked my phone away to look at the name I had already forgotten in my haste to call. “Er...Agnes Smith?”

  “The one and only. And who might this be?”

  “Del,” I said. “Delilah Solis. I found your information on a travel site advertisement…”

  “Ah, the apprenticeship,” the woman trilled with what I hoped was pleasure. “Ye’ll be comin’ along then to bake with us, will ya?”

  I blinked at the question. It couldn’t be this easy. She didn’t even know my name. Was she offering me the apprenticeship?

  “Yes. Yes, I am,” I answered, making sure I sounded confident. My father had taught me to never give half measures or answer a question with a question.

  She hummed. “When can ye be here, lass?”

  I stopped pacing, eyes falling on the open drawers I had just been rummaging through. “Is tomorrow too soon?”

  If I booked my ticket now I could be there in a day. A thrill ran through me at the prospect of standing on Scottish soil in twenty-four hours. I wouldn’t be showing a property or scrambling to clean up after my siblings. I would be living my full, grown-ass, non-dependable life.

  The thought of my father’s disappointed face flitted through my mind’s eye, but I pushed it away. For seven years I had been a dutiful daughter. He would understand this. He had to. I’d given everything to help him build his dream, and now he had to let me go to live mine. He would understand why I’d gone—why I’d needed to go looking for a place to wear the red dress he’d given me.

  If I stayed, I’d never have a reason to put it on.

  “Tha’s perfect,” Agnes declared with what I guessed was a smack of her fist against a table. “You’ll be here just in time for the Hogmanay festivities! How cheery and cozy it’ll be. Plus, we need all the hands we can get for these desserts and cakes people ‘ave ordered for their celebrations.”

  “Hogmanay?” I asked not sure I’d heard Agnes right.

  “The New Year, dear. It’s a Scottish tradition. Ye’ll love it.”

  The New Year. There was that reminder again. I hadn’t even decided what I would do to ring it in. It had been years since I’d gone to a party. I usually just watched the ball drop with my father and then went to bed. What would I even do at parties where I was free to do as I pleased?

  I pursed my lips. I didn’t know. I’d completed forgotten. A byproduct of working seven days a week without a moment for myself. I swallowed hard, ignoring the chill that went through me at the realization I’d forgotten New Year ...or Hogmanay as I was quickly coming to understand was the Scottish equivalent was only a week away.

  Once Agnes had declared the apprenticeship mine, she took down my information and gave me instructions for arriving in Edinburgh. It was comforting to not have to think. To let someone else do the planning.

  The woman even bought a ticket and emailed it to me while taking down my contact information. The arrival of the flight confirmation in my inbox made it all real. She’d even sprung for first class. I spluttered at seeing the ticket, imagining what it must have cost Agnes, but she only sighed at me.

  “Dinna fash yerself, lass. The Scots take care of guests. Ye’ll see.” The warm tone in her voice made my heart constrict. Someone taking care...of me? Unheard of, but so welcome. Already she was seeing to my comfort in ways my own family had forgotten to do.

  What if this was what my time in Scotland would be like? A month of kindness? Of being thought of? Someone helping me? Valuing my efforts?

  That settled it.

  I was going to Scotland in a few hours’ time and nothing would stop me.

  Happy fucking New Year to me.

  Chapter Two

  “Oh, wow.”

  I blinked at the man in front of me and did my best to understand what he’
d just said. I knew it was a question, but pertaining to what? Only the universe knew. The airport bustled around me, making it harder to understand the ginger-haired man when he leaned closer to me and repeated his question.

  I’d just stepped through customs was waiting on the ride Agnes has assured me would come when the man had rushed up to me and began talking. Now I was doing my best to decipher his words. Jesus H, why hadn’t I thought to listen to some “learn Scottish in 15 minutes a day” videos on my eighteen-hour flight? Oh right, I’d been busy getting tipsy on champagne and relishing in my newfound spontaneity.

  “The bog?” I tried, and glanced around the airport with a shake of my head. We were in the middle of gleaming chrome and glass. What did he mean, a bog? There couldn’t be one for miles, right? Maybe I was wrong and there was a bog here? “I don’t understand,” I offered with a wince.

  The man rubbed a hand over his face and then pointed behind me. “Tha’ bog,” he said, as if speaking to a child. I might have rolled my eyes but my helplessness kept me from it. Following his finger, I scrunched up my nose at the sight of the sign for the bathroom.

  “Bathroom?”

  This time he made a face. “D’ya take a bath innit?”

  “What?” I gaped.

  He laughed and then gestured for me to follow him. “Let’s get on then, lassie.”

  “Um…” I hurried after him, because the man showed no sign of slowing down. “Did Agnes send you?”

  He grunted and gave me a nod. “Sent me round to fetch yeh.”

  “How’d you know it was me?” I asked curious as to how he’d managed to pin me down in the sea of arriving passengers.

  James shrugged. “Only one who dinna have someone waitin’ fer them.”

  His words put a lump in my throat. I’d never traveled alone and when I did it was for work. James’s words reminded me just how out of my element I was. And how very much alone I was while doing it. I pushed past my the pang of loneliness that had unexpectedly stabbed me and gave him a smile.