Natasha leaned forward eagerly.
The lawyer read the next lines silently, then frowned. Finally, he shrugged and murmured, “You always did have your own way of doing things.”
He meant Trevor, of course. The man had loved keeping people on their toes.
Holly watched as the lawyer picked up his phone and waited for his assistant to answer. “Ms. Croft? I believe there was a package with Mr. Stuart’s will… Yes, please bring it in.” Then he hung up and gestured apologetically. “Just a moment, please. It seems our dear friend has left one last surprise.”
Holly flashed the urn a bittersweet smile. That would be Trevor, all right.
The door opened, and a woman hurried in with a shoebox-sized package wrapped in brown paper. She handed it to the lawyer then marched back out.
Natasha’s eyes followed the package like a hawk. The lawyer patted it, then went back to the will.
“We’ll get to that presently. Now, where was I? Oh, yes. ‘To my dear friend, Fergus MacGregor, I leave an oath of eternal friendship and all the brandy in my cellars.’”
Fergus touched his chest and dipped his chin, obviously touched. As he should be. Trevor’s brandy collection took up the space of a small airplane hangar, filled with bottles worth thousands of dollars.
“‘To my esteemed associates, Hamish and Fiona Harris, I leave my mother’s china collection.’”
An old woman fluttered her hands and covered her mouth in surprise. The man next to her patted her hand and said, “Good old Trevor.”
Holly smiled. Good old Trevor, indeed. He seemed to have carefully matched his prized possessions with people who would appreciate them most — other dragons with a penchant for hoarding rare things. Not all were hugely valuable in a monetary sense, but most of Trevor’s friends were as rich as he had been. Since they already owned enough castles and properties, they didn’t covet the big-ticket items further down the will.
Natasha, on the other hand, tapped her foot impatiently, as did several other hopefuls.
Things went on in that vein for a while, with little odds and ends going to various friends and distant relatives. All the things Trevor had hoarded over a lifetime passed on to whoever would make best use of them. His golf clubs. His best saddle. Artworks. A cottage on the east coast left to a charity for historical preservation.
“‘To my dear friends, Clive and Dana Jennings of Wyoming, I bequeath my stake in Wildcat Distillery. May they drink to me on occasion.’”
Holly’s chest rose and fell in a deep sigh. Trevor had made no secret of that plan, though her parents had insisted they didn’t expect any such thing. But of course, Trevor had followed through as promised.
“You bet we’ll drink to you, Trevor,” she murmured. “And not just on occasion.”
Her parents would be relieved to know the business was theirs for good. Not that anyone in the room seemed impressed. To them, her family’s business was small fry.
Next, the lawyer leveled his eyes at Natasha, who held her breath.
Holly sighed. Here it was — the big reveal. Would Natasha get Trevor’s Highland estate, his distillery, or the private island in the Hebrides? All three?
“‘To Miss Natasha Fleming, I leave my coin and stamp collections…’”
Natasha waited, as did everyone else.
“‘To Lachlan McKenney, I leave my 1965 Austin-Healey…’”
Lachlan stared as the man sitting in the next seat clapped him on the shoulder.
Holly nearly whistled. Wow. Lachlan got the Austin? That car was a beautiful ride.
Beautiful is the car with Lachlan in it, her dragon sighed dreamily.
Meanwhile, Natasha nearly jumped out of her seat. “Stop. I think you missed something.”
The lawyer ran a finger down the document, then shook his head. “No, miss. But there is more to come.”
Holly wanted to snort. There was lots more to come, and everyone knew it.
“Oh. Let’s move on, then.” Quickly, Natasha’s tight features demanded.
The lawyer scanned the next few lines, and while his face didn’t give away much, Holly did catch a slight raise of the eyebrows. Obviously, he was getting to the good part. Well, fine. Natasha would inherit the works. Lachlan could drive off in the Austin. And she, Holly, could get on with her life in the States.
But just the thought of it made her heart ache. She loved Scotland — not with a first-time tourist’s infatuation, but with the tried and true love of a person who’d been there time and again, in all seasons, and in all circumstances. Thanks to Trevor, she’d spent a year studying in Inverness, worked several summers at his distillery, and spent a frigid January pitching in at a farm close to Trevor’s estate. Since then, she’d made repeat visits to help friends run outdoor adventure trips. This visit was sadder and lonelier, because her mentor was gone. But even so, she hadn’t been in a rush to leave Scotland.
But how could she stay if Lachlan was around? It wasn’t worth the heartache.
It is worth it, her dragon growled. A second chance.
A chance she’d been dreaming of for years. On the other hand, why put herself through the grinder again? Lachlan might have broken her heart, but she still had her pride.
The lawyer cleared his throat as if he’d reached an especially poignant moment.
“‘To Miss Holly Jennings of Green Valley, Wyoming…’”
Holly froze. Wait. She’d made Trevor promise not to leave her anything.
Everyone turned, some with frowns that said, *How dare Trevor leave anything to an outsider? *
“‘At her own request, I leave her nothing,’” the lawyer quoted.
Holly exhaled, and the glares faded.
“‘Except…’” The lawyer paused to adjust his glasses.
Holly tensed all over again, and a dozen cross hairs aimed her way.
“‘Except one last request, if she will be so kind as to honor it.’”
Holly bit her lip, gazing at the urn. You, Trevor, are the kind one.
Then she nodded, because everyone was waiting. Of course she would do her best for Trevor.
The lawyer nodded back and continued. “‘I task Miss Jennings with returning my ashes to my ancestral homeland.’”
Holly exhaled. A trip across Scotland was no problem. That would give her the chance to say goodbye in private — to Trevor and to the places she loved.
“‘Half of my ashes shall be scattered at Creag Aerden…’”
She nodded, picturing just the place on Trevor’s Highland estate — the rocky hillside he loved to watch the sunset from.
“‘…after the other half is scattered over Gleninnis, as per the attached instructions.’” The lawyer patted the package beside him.
Holly’s pulse skipped. Gleninnis was a magical little island off the west coast of Scotland. Trevor’s most special place, and hers too, for reasons she couldn’t quite explain.
She pictured herself there, whispering a final goodbye and thank you as she shook out some of Trevor’s ashes. Then she would take a last walk around the private island, from the rocky bay on the lee side to the highest peak. She could see it now — wide views all the way from the windswept coast to the rugged mountains of the mainland in the distance.
Gleninnis. Just thinking of the island made her heart race.