A job! She had a job! After a month and a half of wandering the streets, searching for a respectable position, and generally draining her savings, she was seated in the sitting room of the MacFusty mansion and flipping through the journal that she'd hopefully fill with her research findings for months to come.

Being back in the Hebrides was almost surreal; she'd worked so hard to block out the memories of the trauma and recovery that she'd endured at the end of April that it almost felt as if she was experienced a strange case of déjà vu. Everything was so familiar, but also not; the home and the surrounding areas remained only as blurred memories.

And then, of course, there were the people.

Tilda was obviously a familiar face, as were the faces of Mr. Malcolm MacFusty and his wife. The other MacFusty brothers (there were nearly ten of them) were more or less familiar depending on the time they'd taken back in April to speak to her, and in some ways their faces seemed to meld together in her mind.

Thus, when a very tall, very shirtless MacFusty entered the room, Bella couldn't identify them—not that she would have had much luck anyhow. With wide eyes and pink cheeks, all she could do was let out a yelp in surprise.

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