June, Reimagined (25)
“It’s a celebration of our heritage,” Hamish explained. “The Viking heritage of getting drunk and lighting things on fire.”
“And speaking of the festival,” Amelia said, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.” Her hesitant tone worried June, which was justified, as Amelia explained to June that she had double-booked her room.
“What?” June gasped.
“It came in months ago, long before you showed up. The room was empty then, so I booked it. It’s one of the only times we get tourists in the winter. The whole inn is completely full. But it’s only for a few days. Then you can move right back in.”
“A few days?” June started to panic.
Amelia clarified. “Five, actually.”
“Five days! When do I have to leave?”
Amelia bit her lip. “Friday.”
June uselessly attempted to remain calm. She didn’t have enough money to rent another place for five whole days, especially at the prices rooms would be going for during the festival—assuming there were even any rooms available. June would have asked Hamish if she could crash on his couch, but he had already done so much for her.
“Don’t worry.” Amelia touched June’s arm. “I’ve already solved the problem.”
“Oh, thank God,” June said, clutching at her heart.
“Well, don’t thank me yet,” Amelia added. “The double-booked room wasn’t the worst part.”
June asked tentatively, “Where am I staying exactly?”
Amelia glanced at Hamish, who looked as surprised as June felt, and said, “At the house next door.”
After the night at the pub, it was no secret how June felt about Lennox, or at least how people assumed she felt. She had kept her budding feelings under wraps since that night, with no intention of revealing them, ever. Now she had to hold on to the counter to stay steady. Five nights at Lennox’s. There was no way he agreed to this willingly.
“And he said yes?” June asked.
“Not exactly . . .” Amelia said. “But he didn’t say no either. He just kind of . . . grunted, which is as good as a yes, as far as I’m concerned.” Then she quickly added, “He’ll be busy with work and getting ready for the festival anyway. You’ll barely see him.”
Over the past three weeks, June had come to realize just how often Lennox was gone from his little house next to the inn. Exactly what he was doing, June had no idea. The lack of interaction between them was a good thing, allowing the flicker of heat she’d felt to fade. June had planned to keep it that way. She had to keep it that way.
But now Lennox would be unavoidable.
“It all worked out in the end,” Amelia said with a smile. “I have a feeling this year’s festival will be one to remember.”
June’s throat was dry. She hoped Amelia was right, that Lennox would be busy. And the festival did look amazing. A boon of photo-worthy moments. With such a spectacle, and the amount of people attending, June could, at the very least, busy herself taking pictures.
She flipped through the coffee-table book and stopped on a page with a collage of images: people in costume, tourists lining the streets watching the galley parade, the Knockmoral pipe band leading the charge. But what captured her attention most was a picture of a man and his son, dressed identically as Vikings.
“Is this . . .” June pointed at the picture.
“Lennox and our da.” Amelia grinned. “I was just a wee bairn that year.”
The dark curls. The hooded hazel eyes. Even the freckles across their noses. All astonishingly the same. Lennox’s father’s face was radiant, bursting with life. “Your dad’s so handsome.”
“He was, wasn’t he,” Amelia said with a longing smile.
A million questions arose in June’s mind. She wanted more information, but the passing of her brother had taught her that conversations about death were invitation only. How many times had June been cornered into a discussion about Josh that she’d wished she could evaporate from?
“Aye, Liam got all the good looks and left none for me,” Hamish quipped. “God duct-taped the scraps together and sent me down to the earth six years later.” He closed the book. “Now, go on home. It’s getting dark.”
Amelia offered June a ride back to the inn. June collected her unwritten thank-you cards for another day. She snapped a picture of Hamish in his blond wig; uninhibited, he struck his best pose.
“So, what are you dressing up as?” June asked.
“I can’t reveal any secrets. It’s against the rules,” Hamish said, wagging his finger at her. “You’ll have to wait and see. But I can promise you this. You’ve never seen anything like it in your life.”
“That good?” she asked.
“Just when you think you’ve seen it all”—Hamish grinned—“that’s when the fun starts.”
ELEVEN
June held the house phone between her ear and shoulder as she pushed herself up on the kitchen counter. A half-eaten grilled cheese sandwich sat on a plate next to her. “I signed up for a dance class,” Matt said.
“Matty, you’re the worst dancer I’ve ever seen.”
“I know. I’m terrible. I haven’t improved one bit. It’s a gaping hole in my résumé as a romantic male lead. Thank God for my sarcastic wit, in-depth knowledge of Gilmore Girls, and complete memorization of David Gray’s White Ladder album, or I might never get laid.”