Waterfall Glen Read Online Free PDF Page B

from sweet to savoury, the latter coming from a large pot bubbling away on a vast, ancient, but lovingly cared for wood-burning stove.
    “What can I get you to eat?” Miss Weir asked after closing the door.
    “I don’t want to put you out.”
    “I’d be much more put out at the thought of the lady of the house having to get food for herself while I stood back and watched. And besides,” she added, “you wouldn’t even know where anything is kept.”
    Realizing Miss Weir was desperate to show how indispensable she was, Kate smiled and said, “A sandwich would be fine, thanks. Cheese, ham—whatever’s at hand.”
    “How about salmon and tomato?”
    “Sounds great.”
    “And a cup of tea to go with it?”
    Kate was about to ask for coffee, then thought,
When in Rome.
“That’d be lovely. I’ll fill the kettle,” she said, and started walking towards an antiquated, highly polished kettle that sat on the slate worktop beside the stove.
    “You’ll do no such thing,” Miss Weir said, hurrying over to cut Kate off in action as well as word, then quickly added, “I mean, allow me, Lady Kate.” She filled the kettle from a tap that groaned and shuddered before gurgling into life. “I’ll just put this on the stove and then show you through to the banquet hall.”
    “Actually, I’d like to eat in here if that’s okay—it’s so cosy,” Kate said, sitting on one of the two stools at the roughly-hewn pine table in the center of the kitchen.
    “Aye, I suppose it is,” Miss Weir said, looking around as if seeing a familiar place in a new light.
    Kate looked on as Miss Weir used a knife the size of a cavalry sword to saw through the crust of a newly-baked loaf and then carve an inch-thick steak from a baked salmon that was still complete with head and tail.
    “There you are,” Miss Weir said, as she cut the resulting plate-sized sandwich in two and set it down in front of Kate. “That should keep you going until dinner.”
    Kate started to thank her but was drowned out by a rattling from the stove, followed by a high-pitched hooting. The room filled with steam, and for a moment Kate thought something was about to blow up. Then she realizedthat what sounded like a locomotive pulling into a station was just the old-fashioned kettle coming to the boil.
    After making the tea Miss Weir said, “Would you be wanting a mug or the fancy porcelain stuff that Mr. Colin never bothered with?”
    Knowing she’d just been shot point blank with a loaded question, Kate fought back a smile and said, “A mug will be fine, thanks.”
    Miss Weir put a large mug down beside Kate’s sandwich and brought a jug of milk out from the fridge, saying, “I’m sorry we’ve none of that nonsensical half-fat milk that seems to be all the fashion these days, but I’m afraid we don’t have any half-fat cows in Glen Cranoch.”
    This time Kate couldn’t fight back her smile, so she used the sandwich to hide it. It was more than up to the job; she needed both hands just to get half of it up to her mouth. It was like a different kind of food altogether from the dainty, cellophane-wrapped sandwiches she was used to in the coffee shops of Sausalito and San Francisco, with their thin slices of bleached white bread or artificially colored “wholemeal,” smears of margarine, and shavings of savoury filling. After taking her first bite, Kate realized Miss Weir was watching her intently, waiting for a verdict. “I had a salmon sandwich on the plane coming over, but it didn’t taste anything like this,” Kate told her.
    “Aye, well, it wouldn’t have been made with home-baked bread, salmon caught by Mr. McRae, and butter courtesy of Flora the cow from the crofts down below.”
    The sandwich was so much bigger than Kate was used to that she was full after eating half of it. She didn’t want to offend Miss Weir by not finishing it, but simply didn’t have room for any more.
    Miss Weir read what was in Kate’s mind from the look on her