Finding Fraser(68)
- ES
Comments: 3
SophiaSheridan, Chicago, USA:
Working? Well, I suppose actual employment is a good thing. At least you are taking responsibility for yourself. How long will it take for you to earn enough to come home? A month? Six weeks? If you will be so kind as to let me know, I may even be able to arrange to have Paul meet you at the airport.
(Read 2 more comments here…)
To: emmasheridan@gmail.com
From: JackFindlay@*range.co.uk
May 15
Hey Emma,
Thanks for the email. Nice to have your email address. I feel special!
And yeah, around here, summer starts in May. Midsummer’s Eve is on the solstice, ye ken? It’s only you Americans who are crazy enough to insist summer begins at the very time the days start getting shorter!
The ankle is mending quickly, judging from the infernal itch right at the spot I can’t reach with even my longest pencil. The book prep seems to be going well at the publishing house. My editor tells me it should be out late this summer.
Hope your quest continues apace. If the Highland warrior falls through and you do end up down here in Edinburgh for a bit, let me know. I’d love to take you for a ‘thank you’ cup of tea.
Jack
Katy the librarian began to make closing-up noises, so I quickly logged off, after sending Jack a quick note suggesting he use a ruler rather than a pencil to address his itchy ankle. A broken leg on my first attempt on an Adirondack ski hill as a teenager had given me a plethora of experience on how to best deal with the discomfort of six weeks in a cast, and I was fairly certain things hadn’t changed much in the technology of scratching an itch in that time.
My first couple of weeks in the new job had been far less eventful than the first hour, but I have to say that I liked it that way. It was kind of reassuring to get back to the routine of regular employment after the series of disasters in Glasgow. Whoever said that the Scots are cheap had obviously never worked in this cafe—my tips were accumulating in the jar on the wee counter of my flat very nicely.
And—for the time being, at least—I got to stay in my beloved Highlands.
It turned out the kid in the kitchen whites was the owner’s son, Ashwin. Ash’s dad was named Sandeep Patel, who was, in his turn, the son of Indian immigrants who had moved to Scotland during the time of partition. Sandeep had a Glaswegian accent as strong as Rabbie the Gnome. Our first conversation had been tempered both by his suspicion of me as a foreigner and his relief that I actually had experience as a barista in the US.
“We’d thought we’d hae plenny o’ time afore Cara’s babby arrived,” he said, kneading the dough for tea biscuits as we spoke. “Another month, at least. I were halfway to Glasgow on mah supply run when I go’ the call from Ash. Turned aroun’ fair quick, I did! As for findin’ another girl, I havenae even posted a note on the board at the local Jobs Center.”
He punched the dough viciously with his flour-coated hands, and then rolled it flat and began cutting out rounds using one of the drinking glasses from the dishwasher. “So yeh worked at the Starbucks in Chicago, did ye?”
I nodded. “Can make a caramel macchiato with the best of ’em,” I said, proudly, thinking it pays to trumpet one’s accomplishments to one’s new boss.
He rolled his eyes. “Ach, there’ll be none of that shite here, luv. Jes’ serve ’em the coffee out of the perc and change the grounds every coupla hours, and it’ll all be fine.”
That had been the full extent of my interview. After a bit more than two weeks, it turned out that the job was seventy five percent serving and the rest of the time wiping tables and lugging dish trays. Pretty much zero percent barista, in fact.
I didn’t mind a bit.
Fins in the Firth…
2:00 pm, May 31
Nairn, Scotland
Spent an amazing, glorious day chasing a pod of dolphins along the shores of Moray Firth. Dolphins!
I’ve never even seen one dolphin, except on television. Today, there were thirty or more of ’em, bobbing and dancing and playing in the distance. I counted dorsal fins, and it was hard to keep track but still!!!!
There were a few other people out walking along the shoreline. The rain has been falling pretty much every day, but today was supposed to be fine, and it was my day off. I headed over the shore on my bike, following Morag’s directions, just planning to read and catch a little sun. But when I got to the beach, I could see a young family hurrying up the shore, the two kids leaping up and down madly.
So exciting to see. And to think——in Scotland!
I overheard the mother of the young kids insisting it was good luck to see dolphins, so when I went back home after they had swum away, I asked Morag to confirm.