The lure that kept drawing him back to the opposite side of the Atlantic was Dr. Ximena Lockhart, an American surgeon turned trauma specialist, whom he had met two years before whilst undergoing treatment in the otherwise unromantic confines of the emergency room at Edinburgh Royal Infirmary. The mutual interest kindled by that initial encounter had subsequently blossomed into a bright flame.
That flame had remained constant despite the separation forced upon them when Ximena learned that her father had fallen victim to a terminal illness. Though she had gone home to San Francisco to care for him, the strains of time and distance had failed to dampen the ardor of the relationship still growing between her and Adam. In this instance, an invitation to address a gathering of American medical colleagues was providing Adam with a professional excuse for being absent from his Edinburgh practice in order to spend the Christmas holidays with Ximena.
"In some respects, it's going to be an awkward visit," he admitted to Peregrine and McLeod. "I'll finally get to meet Ximena's family, but her father isn't doing well at all."
"What is the latest word on his condition?" Peregrine asked quietly.
"No better than it's ever likely to be, I'm afraid," Adam replied. "Given the original prognosis, it's nothing short of miraculous that he's lasted this long."
"Aye, and one has to wonder whether that's really a mercy," McLeod murmured. "That form of cancer is pretty painful, isn't it?"
"I'm afraid it is," Adam replied. "And he's already lasted six months beyond what his doctors ever expected. Ximena can't even talk about it. I can only imagine that he must have some very powerful, private reasons for wanting to cling to life. I'll be in a better position to form an opinion once we've met face to face."
"I'm frankly surprised that Ximena hasn't introduced the two of you before now," Peregrine said.
Adam shrugged. "I expect it's a reflection of the helplessness she feels as a physician - not being able to help her father when she thinks he needs her most. If I meet him, she has to deal with that helplessness."
"Is that why you've always met elsewhere?" McLeod asked.
Adam nodded. "This is the first time she's consented to let me fly all the way out to the West Coast. I'm given to understand," he added lightly, "that it would be bad form on her part to let me make all the travel concessions - hence, our metropolitan tour of the East Coast."
The list of cities they had visited together in recent months included Atlanta, Boston, and New York. Adam had not disputed the choice of venues, knowing that these were places where Ximena could escape, however briefly, from the cares and responsibilities that burdened her at home. For that very reason, her invitation to meet this time in San Francisco gave him cause for no small concern. If she was now afraid to leave her father's side - and ready to face her own helplessness - the end must truly be in sight.
"That reminds me," Peregrine said, breaking in upon Adam's reflections. "I've got something here for you - if only I can find the right bag."
With these words, he ducked partially from view below the level of the table. The sound of energetic rummaging shortly gave way to an exclamation of triumph. When Peregrine re-emerged, he was holding a parcel gaily wrapped in Christmas paper.
"Your real present will be waiting for you when you get back," he told Adam with a puckish grin. "This, on the other hand, is for opening now - sort of a bon voyage present. It may come in handy if you should accidentally get separated from your friendly native guide."
"Why, Peregrine, this feels like a book," Adam said with a pleased smile, as he began stripping off the paper. "Surely you haven't forgotten that I already have a book?"
"You don't have this one!" Peregrine said gleefully as Adam pulled free a copy of Fodor's pocket-companion to San Francisco.
"Indeed, I don't, and I thank you very much," Adam said with a grin, as he flipped through a few pages. "The Baedeker I have back at the house must be a quarter century out of date. My mother brought it back from a trip she took when I was in my teens."
"So I discovered, the last time you left me alone in your library," Peregrine said drily. "This one should keep you ait fait with the attractions of the present day. Use it in good health."
"So I shall," Adam promised, bending to set it on the floor beside his chair. "And what about your Christmas plans?" he asked, adroitly diverting the conversation from himself. "Will you and Julia be getting away at all for the holidays?"
Peregrine made a wry face and shook his head. "We can't go anywhere before Christmas Day. Julia got roped into a concert on Christmas Eve - Hebridean carols. It's at St. Margaret's in Dunfermline, where we were married, so when Father Lawrence told her that all proceeds would be earmarked for the church roofing fund, she couldn't very well say no."
"Indeed, not," Adam agreed. "I'll be sorry to miss it."
"She'll be sorry, too," Peregrine replied. "As for me, I've still got quite a bit of work to do on that group portrait that Sir Gordon's Masonic Lodge commissioned for their centenary. If I can at least get all the facial studies finished, I'll feel justified in taking the week off between Christmas and the new year. In that event, we'll probably head up to Aviemore to check out the prospects for a few days' skiing."
"Lucky you," McLeod grunted. "It's going to be business as usual at police headquarters. All too many of our local ne'er-do-wells think of Christmas as the season for taking, rather than giving. Only yesterday, four blokes in workmen's coveralls hijacked a removal van carrying a baby-grand piano."
"A valuable historical piece, I take it?" Adam said.
"So one would think, based on the furor the theft has caused," McLeod replied sourly. "No, this one was new. According to the inventory, it was painted pearl-pink, with rhine-stone inlay."
Peregrine's reaction proclaimed a startled mixture of disbelief and artistic affront.
"Someone's having you on!" he declared. "Why on earth would anyone even want to make a thing like that, let alone steal it?"
McLeod shrugged, his blue eyes lighting with the humor of the affair. "I'm afraid the report is legit. The piano was being delivered to a new American-style nightclub that's just getting ready to open down at the foot of the Grassmarket. The transport company is one that usually specializes in household removals. I expect the thieves thought they were making off with a load of furniture and small appliances. Are they going to be surprised!"
At McLeod's grin, Peregrine's eyes rolled behind his gold-framed spectacles.
"Talk about a waste of police resources…"
"Aye, but believe me, I'm quite content to chase burglars for a change, given what sometimes gets dished up to us. If things stay quiet - as I dearly hope they'll do, with Adam away - Jane and I might sneak away to a hotel for a few nights, so my daughter can have the house to herself and her university friends over Hogmanay. And I may take a few extra shifts, to give some of the younger lads extra time with their families. Otherwise, I'll be at home, trying to dissuade the cats from stealing the baubles off the Christmas tree."
"Surrounded by thieves and robbers!" Adam said with a laugh, picking up his glass. "Perhaps it's time we had a toast. Noel, will you go first?"
The inspector knit his brow briefly, rubbing at his moustache, then lifted his glass. "All right, here's one my grandfather favored: