In the study, Prescot grabbed a topcoat off the back of a chair and helped Hannish put it on. Then he followed him into the parlor just as McKenna came down the stairs. At last, they were ready and the MacGreagors stepped outside to welcome their guests.
Abigail and Claymore Whitfield were the picture of Colorado's well-dressed wealth. A slender woman, Abigail wore a well-fitting green dress, with delicate pink rosebuds on the collar, at the waist and at the bottom of the skirt. The color flattered her red hair and matched her green eyes. Her somewhat robust husband looked uncomfortable in his tall still-collar and his waistcoat was a bit too tight, but his lace up black shoes had a good shine to them, and his short, graying hair was neatly combed. Their grown son was as tall as his father, wore his reddish blond hair short to the nape of his collar and had a bit of a crooked smile.
"McKenna, allow me to introduce our nearest neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Whitfield. McKenna is my sister," said Hannish.
Claymore tipped his hat, "A pleasure." Then he turned back to Hannish. "I do not believe you have met my son, Charles."
Hannish smiled. "I have not. Welcome, Charles."
Charles nodded to Hannish and then tipped his hat to McKenna, just as his father had, only Charles' eyes remained on her longer than was proper and his crooked smile became a sickening grin. "A pleasure, indeed."
Full of exuberance, Abigail hugged McKenna, kissed her cheek, looped her arm through hers, and practically pulled her through the front door. "My dear, we heard you were in town and I demanded Claymore bring me straight away to welcome you. Oh my, but it is a magnificent display of marble. We've not yet seen it completed and I do not mind saying I watched with envy as the wagons passed our home. Are all the rooms finished now? I want very much…"
"My dear, Mrs. Whitfield," her husband interrupted, "let the woman speak."
"And such divine window seats with a full view of town?" Abigail said, ignoring her husband. "If we had such a thing, which we do not I regret to say, I would have tea in this foyer each and every morning."
McKenna noticed the pride in her brother's expression and smiled. "Aye, but you have not yet seen the upstairs sitting room. The view from there is breathtaking." McKenna led the way into the parlor and then up the stairs. "Come, I shall show you."
Both Mr. Whitfields handed their hats to Keith, the first to be placed on the empty shelf in the coatroom.