Page 2 of Highlands Homecoming

“Feeling better?” asked Caitlin.

“I feel like it’s morning … again.”

Caitlin laughed. “Are we forwards or backwards?”

“I don’t even know anymore. What time is it here?”

“Time for something to eat. Let’s go see what’s on special at the Iron Brew,” answered Caitlin.

“Angus picked a great name for a Scottish pub.”

“Definitely. No trademark issues, and the Americans can pronounce it.”

The Iron Brewwas a cozy corner pub on a bustling street in a funky up-and-coming Boston neighborhood. The outside was clearly a Scottish pub—a blue and white Saltar flag waved in the breeze, and the windows sparkled with thistle decorations painted in a lovely ornate gold.

Stepping inside, Melissa felt transported back to Scotland. The whole place was a whirl of exposed brick and old wooden beams, with tartan pillows, a framed photo of Robert Burns, and a large wooden bar made from what appeared to be antique, up-cycled wood. They even had a little wooden sheep sitting on the bar.

And the music—a rich rumble of guitar with soft crooning felt like the Scottish indie rock that Melissa hadn’t quite grown up with, but had always loved. In short, the place felt as much like home as Greenhill House did the moment she first stepped inside.

“This is incredible!” gushed Melissa.

“I know, right?” said Caitlin.

“Do you want a table, or do you want to sit at the bar? Or they have tables in the bar.” Caitlin gestured to a table next to a window in the bar room.

Melissa nodded. “Definitely let’s take that one. We can watch the snow and enjoy the atmosphere at the same time.”

They settled in, and soon a young man in a plaid flannel and jeans came over to them. “Welcome to the Iron Brew. We’re known for our hearty Scottish pub grub, our extensive list of Scotch, and our good banter.”

“We’re glad to be here,” said Melissa.

He handed them menus.

“So many Scottish beers,” noted Melissa.

“They also have a lot of mocktails, teas, and coffees for daytime. And they run the brunch menu well into the afternoon, so if you want porridge or their sticky toffee French toast you’re in luck,” said Caitlin.

“Sticky toffee French toast? You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Melissa hadn’t realized how long it had been since she’d eaten an actual meal.

“Dead serious,” said Caitlin.

“Bring it!” said Melissa. They sat back and listened to the music pour from the speakers overhead. Melissa hadn’t felt this relaxed in ages, and it was doing her a world of good.

The waiter came back.

“I’d like a cappuccino and the sticky toffee French toast,” said Melissa.

“And I’ll have the full Scottish breakfast,” said Caitlin.

“Anything to drink?”

“Just tea. Earl Gray,” said Caitlin.

“You’ve gone full-on Scottish,” commented Melissa.

“It was a life-changing trip, and I have you to thank for it,” said Caitlin.

“And I also like to take some credit,” said a tall man in a blue flannel shirt and jeans. A cascade of long, wavy dark hair fell over his face as he greeted them. “Welcome, Melissa! Thanks for coming!”