Fowl Prey
“SAID JUDITH to Renie over breakfast in the Clovia’s small tartan-covered dining room, “must buy a frock.”
“You,” said Renie to Judith, looking up from the breakfast menu, “must be a freaking wacko.”
“I’m serious. You are about to become Bob-o’s English cousin. As you know, all English women wear frocks.”
It was almost nine o’clock, an overcast November morning in Port Royal with the threat of rain heavy in the air. The frost which Angus MacKenzie predicted had never materialized. Instead, low-l...ying dark clouds had rolled in over Prince Albert Bay. The Clovia fortified itself against the weather with mingled smells of grilled meat and fresh-baked scones along with a roaring blaze in the stone fireplace on the far wall. The hotel’s dining room was busy, with as many business types as guests crowded around the linen-covered tables. Clan crests and racks of antlers ornamented the oak partitions. A wrought-iron chandelier with light-bulbs shaped like candle flames hung from the middle of the room.MoreLess
“You,” said Renie to Judith, looking up from the breakfast menu, “must be a freaking wacko.”
“I’m serious. You are about to become Bob-o’s English cousin. As you know, all English women wear frocks.”
It was almost nine o’clock, an overcast November morning in Port Royal with the threat of rain heavy in the air. The frost which Angus MacKenzie predicted had never materialized. Instead, low-l...ying dark clouds had rolled in over Prince Albert Bay. The Clovia fortified itself against the weather with mingled smells of grilled meat and fresh-baked scones along with a roaring blaze in the stone fireplace on the far wall. The hotel’s dining room was busy, with as many business types as guests crowded around the linen-covered tables. Clan crests and racks of antlers ornamented the oak partitions. A wrought-iron chandelier with light-bulbs shaped like candle flames hung from the middle of the room.MoreLess
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