Not Scotland. Brandishing lavender, or heather, or what have you, Dr. Bev returns to her grandmother's grave. Groundskeeper Willie is there, keeping the grounds, and he gripes that he'll get out of her way. Dr. Bev begs him to stay and apologizes for her earlier rudeness. She now knows from Nana's diaries that Groundskeeper Willie was a true friend. Between the sheets, because he's not just a Scotsman by birth, he's a Scotsman ALL over. I have no idea what I mean by that. Dr. Bev is dramatically draped in a woolen cape thing, and also seems to be wearing a long tweed walking skirt and heeled boots. Because that's what they wear on a fake Scottish colony. She invites Groundskeeper Willie to stay at Nana's house and look after it in her absence. "Wheeel, that's very kind a'you, lass, but I'll ne'er set foot in that house again. And I recommend that you dinna either," Groundskeeper Willie forbodes without actually giving her any real information. Groundskeeper Willie says it's like he told her grandmother: the house is haunted. Haunted with sex. The wind picks up, and Dr. Bev clutches her highland cape around her and wonders what ever could he mean. "Jes' dunna light that candle!" Groundskeeper Willie warns. He rants on that the candle will bring the ghost who lives in it: "Oh, he's out now -- wandering across the land. Angry, angry at being driven oot -- that's why he's bringing tha' storms." Dr. Bev thinks Groundskeeper Willie is imagining things. "Think what you want, see what you want -- jes' do what I say: dinna light that candle and dinna go in that hoose or before ye know it, I'll be burying another Howard in this cemetery!" Groundskeeper Willie leaves. Dr. Bev clutches at herself as green lightning flashes. Sex lightning. She looks down at Nana's grave and sees that is it suddenly totally grown over with a white camellia bush. Camellia bush of sex. If you want me to stop now, you better close the browser window and never look back. Dr. Bev whirls around and dashes out of the cemetery, but not before whirling around a few more times, spreading her cape out and clutching it back again, to look at the grave. Yes, Beverly, we all know that you direct plays on the ship -- just drop the drama already.