Awhile back I was in my cave banging away on the computer, tracking down pirated copies of my books, the Scot came in and placed a lovely green apple martini on my desk. Grinning, he said, “I heard you cursing up here and thought you could use this right about now.” What a guy!

THE SCOT

Then we’re eating dinner and he says, “I have to tell you something, but first you have to promise not to get mad.”

Hello! First a martini and now he has something to tell me? Of course, I lie. “I promise.”

“You know your broken vacuum cleaner?”

He’s referring to the supposedly indestructible, half-ton Rikar I paid a small fortune for five years ago, which once sucked paint off walls but now refuses to even turn on.

“Yes, what about it?”  I’m worried he’s done me a favor and brought the monster to yet another repair shop. Not good, since I quietly gave myself a new Dyson for Christmas, (Woot!) my twentieth such device in our marriage, but my perchance for destroying vacuum cleaners is another story…

“Well,” he says, “I saw that old guy sitting outside his apartment tinkering again and thought he might be able to fix it.”

Oh crap. Now, you have to understand…the Scot is an accountant. He’s hell on wheel when it comes to numbers but will break a light bulb off in the socket if he tries to change it. Subsequently, he’s fascinated by men who work with their hands, be they woodworkers, plumbers, mechanics…or in this case, a tinker. And he’s…frugal.

Fearing the worst, I wait. He says, “So I walk the vacuum over to him and tell him he can have it—yes, I saw the bill for the Dyson–that the Rikar’s a good machine but has a broken switch, thinking he could fix it and make some money off it.”

Oops but with a reprieve! “Aww, how sweet of you. It’s worth a good few dollars…if he can get it working again.”  The old man was forever under the hood of a battered pickup held together with only wire and duct tape.

The Scot grinned. “Precisely what I was thinking after I learned how much the salesman said he’d give you as a trade-in toward a new Rikar.” (Which we both now knew was never going to happen in this lifetime.) “Anyway,” he continues, “an hour later I happened to drive by the old guy’s place and he had the vacuum in parts all over the yard.”

“So? He was fixing it.”

“No, he was reducing it to its smallest parts…to sell as scrap. That’s apparently what he does. He didn’t understand its intrinsic value. That if he’d fixed the switch — or whatever — he could have sold it for hundreds. All he saw when I gave it to him was the value of its steel and copper wire.” Scott shook his head and sighed. “Now he’ll only make a couple of dollars from it…and I’ve learned some people only know what they know. That some don’t see potential…can’t see beyond their experience.”

“I’m sorry, honey.”

Looking sad, he muttered, “Me, too.”

Seriously, folks, I married the best.

HER CAVE:

To celebrate the print launch of my 1285 Scotland-set historical, The King’s Mistress, I’m running a special contest and giving away EIGHT really great prizes. For details and prize list click on the Contest page at my web site.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this new Highlander tale based on actual events and that you’ll read my other Highlander tales at Romance Bandits and on May 20^th Tales from the Cave #3 will be at the Writerspace Blogs.

[Ed. Sandy is offering up either an e-copy of print version – winner’s choice – of The King’s Mistress. So be sure to leave a meaningful comment or question to be in the running!]