The Cottage by the Loch

THE COTTAGE BY THE LOCH A TOTALLY GRIPPING AND UNFORGETTABLE SCOTTISH ROMANCE KENNEDY KERR BOOKS BY KENNEDY KERR Loch Cameron The Cottage by the Loch A Secret at the Cottage by the Loch Magpie Cove The House at Magpie Cove Secrets of Magpie Cove Daughters of Magpie Cove Dreams of Magpie Cove A Spell of Murder Available in Audio Magpie Cove The House at Magpie Cove (Available in the UK and the US) A Spell of Murder (Available in the UK and the US) CONTENTS Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 A Secret at the Cottage by the Loch Hear More from Kennedy Books by Kennedy Kerr A Letter from Kennedy The House at Magpie Cove Secrets of Magpie Cove Daughters of Magpie Cove Dreams of Magpie Cove A Spell of Murder Acknowledgements * For all the romantics PROLOGUE Five Elms Hospice, August 2022 My girl Zelda, The staff here at the hospice have suggested that I write you a letter. They say it’s a thing people do at this stage of the illness, so that I can tell you everything I want to and get any last secrets out into the open. They also said I could make a book of photos of me for you (like you don’t already have them). Or maybe they think you’ll forget what I look like. I’m not doing the photo book thing. It’s just not my style, and I know you’ll remember what I look like, because, girl, you look just like me. I’ve told them that I don’t have any secrets from you, but they still said I should write the letter. So, here it is. I hope that, when you read this, you know that I love you and I am crazy proud of you. You are the best thing that I have ever done with my life. I am so proud to have been your mom. I’m just sorry that I have to say goodbye a little earlier than I hoped. I did the best I could for you, and I know it was tough sometimes. Thank you for always being such a good kid and taking it on the chin. Your dad missed out by leaving us, I’ll tell you that much. At some point, you may want to get in touch with him, and if you do, you have my blessing. Or, you might not, and that’s okay too. I’m sorry, though, that I don’t have any contact details for him and haven’t for a long time, so you would have to find him some other way. If I had one piece of advice for you, Zelda, it’s to be strong. I always taught you to be independent and follow your heart, so keep doing that. And when life gets you down, remember what Maya Angelou said: If you don’t like something, change it. If you can’t change it, change your attitude. I know you’re going to be okay, but remember ONE ‘Scotland? Really?’ Zelda Hicks had been leaning on the desk, looking at her colleague Emery’s computer screen as he flicked through various websites belonging to Scottish castles. The white leather heeled boots she had worn to the office that morning were killing her ankles, so she sat down gingerly next to him instead. ‘Afraid so, darling. The boss has her heart set on it: stone castle, brooding lochs, all the haggis you can eat. This whole collection’s tartan.’ Her British colleague, Emery, the photographer for The Village Receiver – a small but respected New York newspaper – tapped a pile of test shots on his desk. Zelda flicked through images of red, blue and purple tartan pencil skirts, one-shoulder mini dresses and revealing bustier tops worn by models. She lowered her reading glasses onto her nose, pushing her black fringe out of the way. She’d just started wearing glasses for reading and screens, and tended to put them on her head when she was working, but then she’d forget where they were and spend ten minutes searching her desk until Emery or some other kind soul pointed them out. ‘Shooting in Scotland’s so unnecessarily expensive, though. We could do it in Queens and it’d look just fine. Union Square. The lost and found office of the Empire State Building,’ Zelda suggested. The Village Receiver, based in a slightly down-at-heel building just off Bleecker Street in the West Village, usually didn’t have the budget for international travel: they were an artsy, local newspaper that generally featured New York artists, fashion, musicians and restaurants. However, since their new editor, Mira Khan, had been appointed, she had been spending money like it was going out of fashion. Zelda had serious doubts as to whether Mira sending her and Emery to Scotland just for a fashion editorial was wise, but her opinion didn’t mean much. Ultimately, she wasn’t in charge; even though she’d worked herself up to the position of Features Editor from an entry-level position and Mira had come from a well-known fashion magazine where she was probably used to having more money for things like sudden trips