Bess’s eyes were laughing as she looked at Kate. “He and my daughter used to swim naked together. Remember that time—?”
“No, I don’t,” Alastair said loudly. He took Kate’s arm and led her to a table by a window. “Sorry about that. My intention was to present myself as trustworthy. A pillar of the community, et cetera. And by the way, her daughter and I were two years old when we were sk
inny-dipping.”
Kate sat down, the flowers still in her arms.
“May I take those?” he asked.
She had to look up at him. Way up. He was six-three or -four. She handed him the flowers and he took them to the counter to Bessie. Kate watched them talk, and whatever Alastair said, it made Bessie laugh.
He returned to the table. “I ordered a pot of Darjeeling and a couple of Bessie’s orange-peel scones. I hope that was all right.”
“Very nice.” She could skip dinner to make up for the calories.
For a moment he looked at her in silence, then his eyes lit up. “You aren’t by chance Tayla’s new employee, are you?”
“I am.”
“And your name is Katherine.”
“It’s just Kate. I was told that when I was born I let out such a yell that my father said I needed taming. As in The Taming of the Shrew.”
Alastair smiled. “Your father. That would be Sara’s little brother, Randal.”
Hearing this so excited Kate she almost shouted. “You knew him?” She glanced at the other customers. “Sorry. I’ve never met anyone who knew my father.”
“I didn’t. He was before my time, but there are people in town who did know him. I’m sure Tayla did. She and Sara were in the same class in high school.”
“Were they?” Tayla hadn’t mentioned that in her emails.
A young waitress put a pot of tea on their table and two delicious-looking scones. Alastair poured. “So how is Sara?”
Kate hadn’t wanted to confide in Melissa, but Alastair was different. Maybe he’d been right in the way he introduced himself. It was making her feel secure. “I haven’t seen her since I was four years old. What do you know about the man who’s living with her?”
Alastair frowned. “I hadn’t heard about that. What’s his name?”
“Jack something.”
Alastair’s frown disappeared. “That would be Jack Wyatt. That makes sense. How’s your scone?”
“Excellent.” She was waiting for him to go on, and he seemed to get the hint.
“The Medlars and Wyatts used to live next door to each other. Will you think less of me if I say it was in the, uh, least financially secure part of town?”
“I’m a Realtor. Nothing about houses shocks me.” She remembered Tayla saying that Lachlan had a slum area.
“The connection goes back a long way. You said Jack has moved into the house with her?”
“That’s what I was told. I’m just worried about my aunt, as she’s there alone.”
Alastair looked down at his half-eaten scone.
“What aren’t you telling me?” she asked.
“I don’t like to spread gossip, but my grandfather was a judge. He lived with us, so Mom and I had to endlessly hear about Jack’s father, Roy. He was in and out of jail from the time he was a teenager. He fought with everybody, had problems with drugs and alcohol. He nearly drove my grandfather mad. Roy died a few years ago when he wrapped his truck around a tree. I’ve never heard that Jack is like him, but just recently—” He stopped talking.
“My elderly aunt is involved in this, so I’d like to know about this man.”