—James Smith, “The Bonnie Mornin’ After the Rain” By then everyone in Port Scarnose knew of the lawsuit. And now knew also of its peremptory dismissal. Speculation ran rampant as to the reasons. No one knew anything for certain, only that Ranald Bain must have something on Olivia Urquhart, and that whatever it was must be powerful and secretive. I called on Ranald the very next day. He was back to his normal self—dirty dungarees, plaid wool workshirt, and thick Scots accent. “I scarcely recognized you!” I said. “You looked like an MP! I didn’t imagine you owned such a dashing suit.” “’Tis only for special occasions—’twas either the suit or the kilt.” I thanked him profusely for what he had done—whatever it was!—but not to my most persistent entreaties would he divulge one word of his secret. The expression on his face, however, told me that whatever it was that he and Olivia shared, it was personal and painful. When I returned, a familiar car sat in front of the castle.
