To Scotland With Love by Patience Griffin Page A

about doing the story. For a moment, she worried his London appearance would affect the salability of the exposé to
People,
but she put the thought out of her mind.Everyone knew Graham disappeared, but no one knew to
where.
    She switched off the TV and went upstairs only to find the hallway nearly blocked with her boxes delivered from Chicago. She wished she’d remembered to talk to Graham about some storage. One by one, she carried each box into her room, stacking them against the wall. When she was done, there was little room to move. She changed into a camel-colored sweater and chocolate wool slacks, then located her tan mittens and matching cap. Before walking out, she grabbed her cell phone and charger, hoping to plug it in at Duncan’s house. If not, then at Graham’s later.
    When Duncan answered the door, he looked paler than the last time she’d seen him. She stepped over the threshold. “I came to play with Mattie and to give you a break, if that’s okay.”
    â€œMy da sent you?” Duncan asked, recrimination in his voice.
    â€œNot exactly. But I’m sure Deydie will be by to make certain you men have enough to eat,” Cait said.
    â€œShe dropped a stew by first thing this morning,” he replied. “I’m glad you’re here, though. I planned to leave Mattie at the store with Amy, but he’s coming down with a cold.”
    â€œAre you getting it, too?” Cait asked.
    â€œNo,” he said. “But I do need to get going. I have to pick up my da’s Christmas present. It’ll be my only chance.”
    â€œWould you like me to make you some tea before you go?” she asked. “Or are you a coffee man?”
    â€œAye, coffee.” Duncan ran a hand through his hair, looking just like Graham. “You do know that Mattie is mute, don’t you? He doesn’t speak.”
    No, she didn’t know. And by the I-really-don’t-want-to-talk-about-it
expression on Duncan’s face, she shouldn’t ask either. “Don’t worry. We’ll be fine together,” she said.
    Six-year-old Mattie peeked around the corner with an old man’s somberness masking his child’s face.
    Duncan walked over and squatted down in front of him. “Caitie is an old friend. I knew her when I was your age. Go show her where we keep the traveling mugs while I get my coat.”
    Cait followed Mattie into the kitchen and saw a sink full of dirty dishes staring back. The boy pulled out a can of coffee from the fridge and pointed to where the cups were. She quickly got a pot going.
    Duncan came in just as she filled his mug. “I won’t be long,” he said. “My mobile number is on the refrigerator.”
    â€œSpeaking of mobiles, can I charge my cell here?” Cait asked.
    â€œMake yourself at home. I gave Mattie a dose of cold medicine an hour ago. He should be fine until I get back.” He ruffled Mattie’s hair. “You help Caitie, son.”
    Mattie nodded solemnly. Duncan kissed the top of his son’s head and walked out the door.
    Because Mattie didn’t know her, Cait expected to see trepidation on his face. Instead, he looked unchanged, unaffected. She imagined that everyone in the village had watched him at one time or another, and he was used to a variety of people caring for him.
    Cait had a brilliant idea. “Hey, Mattie, are you up to helping me with the dishes?”
    He grabbed one of the dinette chairs and pulled it to the sink.
    Cait was pleased with herself. She’d tackle two thingsat once—cleaning the kitchen and keeping Mattie engaged. Intuition told her to keep up a running conversation and pretend like he responded to what she said. She told him all about Chicago, the time she’d caught a cod on Billy Kennedy’s boat, and about the potholder she was making for Deydie for Christmas. Mattie remained silent, scrubbing each dish and setting them in the sink for her