Glasgow Grace by Marion Ueckermann Page B

Glasgow the following day. The Royal Hotel was fully booked.
    “Let me call a few places for you. ‘Tis not right to be driving about in the dark,” the receptionist said.
    Skye ambled around the lobby while she waited.
    Soon the woman behind the desk put down the phone, beaming. “The Bosville Hotel, two blocks up on Bosville Terrace are able to assist. They were full, too, but had a cancellation earlier today. It’s really quaint. You’ll be comfortable there and they have such beautiful views over the harbor from their vantage point.”
    Skye returned her smile. “Thank you, so much.”
    Soon Skye had checked into her room at the Bosville, resisting the temptation to climb into bed. Instead, she took a hot bath before going downstairs for dinner. As she dressed, she chided herself for staying outside as long as she had. Her throat hurt and her cough had worsened. She missed Callum, too. She wanted to sleep and dream of him, but when her growling stomach protested, Skye remembered breakfast had been her last meal.
    She chose to dine in the more casual Bistro Restaurant. The cool water she’d ordered didn’t soothe her throat or still her hacking. Any more of this and she’d have to see a doctor. Soon.
    An elderly gentleman, dining alone at a nearby table, glanced over at Skye several times. Each time her gaze met with his, she’d offer an apologetic smile. She should go up to her room and get into bed.
    Dabbing her mouth with the napkin, her meal only half touched, Skye stood.
    The older man scurried to his feet, and strode across to her. “You don’t seem well, lass. Are you all right?”
    Skye lied with a nod. She really didn’t feel or sound good tonight. Too much time spent outdoors earlier, I guess. “I’m so sorry. I’ve disturbed your dinner.”
    He waved his hand in the air. “Nae. Not at all. But that cough of yours is concerning. You should have it seen to.”
    “I will. I’ll make a doctor’s appointment when I get back home.” Home. How good that sounded.
    “When will that be?”
    “I’m not sure. I haven’t made up my mind yet how long I’ll be staying in Skye.” She picked up the napkin and twirled it around her fingers before discarding it again. “I came to visit my father’s grave.”
    “I see.” He cleared his throat. “Well, you shouldn’t leave that cough unattended, lassie.” Hesitating for a moment, he stuck his hand into his top pocket, pulled out a business card and handed it to Skye. “I’m a doctor. If you like, I could get my medical bag from the car and have a look at your throat. Give you some medication perhaps?”
    Skye examined the card.
    “I don’t mean to intrude,” the old man continued. “It’s just—you seemed to be struggling.”
    Grab the opportunity.
    “Would you, mind? I do feel like I’m on a downward spiral with this throat of mine.”
    “Sit yourself back down, lassie. I won’t be long.” He turned to leave. “I’m Dr. Allen, by the way.” A low chuckle rumbled from his lips. “But you already saw that on my card. So, what’s your name?”
    “Skye. Skye Hunter.” She reached for his arm and smiled. “Thank you, Dr. Allen. My father was a doctor, too. This is the kind of thing he would have done…help a total stranger.”
    His watery gray eyes brightened.
    “My Da was born and raised here in Portree. Have you lived here long, Dr. Allen?”
    “A great part of my life.” Closing his eyes, he mumbled. “Hunter. Hunter…” His eyes opened wide. “You’re not Lewis Hunter’s daughter are you?”
    “I am.”
    “I can’t believe it.”
    “You knew my father?”
    “Yes, very well. At least I did. We grew up together here in Portree, and then went on to study medicine in Glasgow. We lost touch though when I moved to Edinburgh to set up my practice. I returned to Portree last year when—” He shook his head and held out his hand to Skye. “What a small world. Sorry to hear he passed on.”
    “It was a long time ago.”