Page 3 of Highlands Summer Wedding

“Not wear—plan! Angus proposed last night. We want a summer wedding, right there where it all started.”

My sister. Getting married. In Scotland. “Wait—you’re serious? You’re engaged?”

“Yes! So will you come? Be my wedding planner?”

I forced enthusiasm into my voice. “Of course I’ll come! That’s incredible news! How did he propose? I want every detail.”

“We were on a hike in this misty drizzle when two deer appeared out of nowhere—a stag and doe, just watching us. Angus started talking about timing and love and suddenly he was kneeling there. The deer stayed the whole time like fairy tale witnesses. I said yes, of course!”

“When’s the big day?” I gripped the phone tighter as the ferry pitched.

“Late June—my birthday weekend. June 18th.”

Ouch. That date.

Never mind. Caitlin was getting married in six weeks because my sister had never met a decision she didn’t want to make at full speed.

“I know, I know,” Caitlin said with a laugh. “It’s fast. But we’re keeping it tiny. Mostly Angus’s family and the people already in Scotland. We’ll have a big celebration in Boston later.”

I tried to focus as she continued. “We want to get married at the MacAlister Inn, where we first met during that blizzard. The place is perfect—they handle catering, have the liquor license, dance floor, even accommodations for everyone.”

“Count me in,” I said. “Anything for my only sister.”

The ferry horn blasted as we approached the dock.

“Where are you?” she asked.

“Heading back from the Vineyard. The Winthrop wedding was canceled.”

“Oh no—your big break planning weddings for the island crowd. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah.” I sighed. “And Eric and I finally clarified things. We’re just friends. Maybe not even that anymore.”

“I’m so sorry. What terrible timing.” I heard a cringe in her voice.

“Story of my life,” I said, feeling defeated.

Caitlin’s voice softened. “I’ll email you all the details. Get some rest.”

“I’ll try. Love you. Congrats again!”

I hung up and tugged my raincoat over my head. It was a good coat, but the sheets of rain were endless, and I had a long walk from the ferry dock to the parking lot where I had to catch a bus to retrieve my car.

As I dashed down the sidewalk, dodging umbrella spokes and ankle-deep puddles, I wondered why more people didn’t get married on sunny islands in the Caribbean. Warm sands, swaying palms, and turquoise waters. I mean, you hear about it all the time. Why couldn’t anyone hire me for something like that?

Instead, I was Scotland-bound.

Scotland. Bagpipes. Rain.

Deer with better timing than I had.

At least I’d already mastered the weather.

CHAPTER 2

The taxi from Edinburgh Airport wound through narrow streets until we emerged into the Old Town, where my breath caught in my throat. The buildings looked like something out of a fairy tale. Or a movie. The Royal Mile stretched before me, climbing steadily upward toward Edinburgh Castle, which commanded the skyline from its perch atop an extinct volcano. I fumbled for my phone, adding “castle tour” to my notes app before the driver had even stopped the meter.

As I wandereddown the Royal Mile toward my rental, aflashof velvet and lace caught my eye—several people in period costumes disappearingdown a narrow alleyway marked Mary King’s Close. I inched closer untila bearded man witha headset snapped“CUT!”and fixedme with a glarethatcouldwiltflowers.