A Love for Rebecca by Mayte Uceda Page B

on it. “I think of you more as a poodle with black, curly hair.”
    “As long as I have a pedigree  . . . ”
    “Come on, you two, cut it out,” Berta said.
    Lola clucked her tongue and swiveled on the stool. “Since we’re all here, I wanted to mention that Rory invited me to go to Nairn for a few days.”
    “Where’s that?” asked Berta.
    “Near Inverness. Some friends lent him a cottage. I’m so excited! We’ll finally get to be alone. You don’t mind, do you?”
    Berta shrugged and pushed up her glasses. “This is your trip,” she said.
    “Why don’t you rent a car and travel around?” asked Lola.
    “If these people would drive on the proper side of the road, I would,” grumbled Rebecca. “But I don’t even want to think about crashing somewhere or running over some poor soul.”
    Lola rolled her eyes and rested her head in her hands. Rebecca finished eating her toast and cleared the breakfast cups. “I’ll go return the dresses to Mrs. Ferguson’s shop,” she said.
    “Why?” Lola asked. “The festival doesn’t end until tonight.”
    “Do you think Berta looks like she wants to go to a party?” Berta blew her nose loudly, raised a hand, and wagged her index finger as a negative. “Because I’m not going by myself.”
    “You won’t be by yourself. You have Sophie.” With a cunning snicker, Lola added, “And Kenzie. Because, in case you didn’t notice, he looked at you like a cat looks at a tasty mouse. But, of course, you were more interested in studying the ground.”
    “You focus on romping around with Rory and leave the rest of us alone,” snapped Rebecca.
    “Fine,” said Lola. “You two do whatever you want.”

    Berta went back to bed after a quick shower and a couple of aspirins, so Rebecca gathered the dresses and, a little disheartened, left for the store to return them. She wasn’t gone long. She dropped the dresses off at Mrs. Ferguson’s, ran a few errands in town, then returned to the cottage in time for lunch.
    She found Berta resting on the sofa, leafing through a magazine. Rebecca settled in next to her and gave herself a foot massage—her feet were tired from all the activity of the last few days.
    “And Lola?” Rebecca said. “No, don’t tell me: she left already.”
    “Exactly, and she doesn’t know when she’ll be back.”
    Rebecca snorted. “As long as she comes back in time to catch the plane  . . . ”
    Berta put a hand on her leg. “What are you going to do?” she asked. “I’m a mess with this stupid fever and cough, and it drives me crazy that you’re stuck here because of me.”
    “Don’t worry. I don’t mind.” Then Rebecca remembered her conversation with Sophie. She had to let her know they wouldn’t be going to the festival or to Culloden the next day.
    “Culloden?” Berta was surprised.
    “Yes, she said the band was going to play there.”
    “Oh, I wish I could go!” Berta said. “I want to see them play, I want to go to Culloden, and mostly I want to meet Kenzie Mac  . . . ”
    “MacLeod,” Rebecca finished.
    “Is he as hot as Lola says?”
    “You know Lola. She likes all men.”
    “That’s not entirely true,” Berta said. “She usually has good taste.”
    “Well, I don’t deny that he’s attractive. Of course, dressed like that and with all those tattoos  . . . ”
    “He has tattoos?” Berta started to laugh but had another coughing fit.
    “Why are you laughing?”
    “I was imagining your mother’s face if she had seen you dancing with a guy like that.”
    Berta kept laughing and coughing until she started crying. Rebecca wanted to be serious, but thinking about her mother’s horrified face made her laugh too. “The shock would kill her,” she said.
    Then Rebecca stopped laughing. She thought about the fact that she really did need to let Sophie know. With Berta still so ill, she didn’t think they could go anywhere. She knew Berta felt guilty about them missing out, and if it had been