Page 48 of Highlands Summer Wedding

“I thought the sausage goes with your kilt,” said Caitlin, just loud enough that we all chuckled.

“So, uh, on that note… Do we have a consensus?” I asked.

Caitlin and Angus nodded.

I smirked. “So no haggis for Angus on his wedding day?”

Angus grinned back at me. “Balmoral Chicken is stuffed with haggis and wrapped in bacon. And we’ve got the haggis bites. So I’m good.”

“Great! What’s next?” asked Caitlin.

As if on cue, Lindsay pushed through the kitchen doors with a tray of desserts.

“Wait, aren’t we getting a wedding cake?” I asked.

“We’ll have a wedding cake, but I had a friend who did a little dessert room at her wedding, so guests could have a variety of sweets. That way we don’t have to have a colossal wedding cake that might fall over. I thought we’d give it a try if Mom and Dad are okay with it?” said Caitlin, looking worried.

I nodded along as she spoke. “No, yeah. That’s a great idea.”

Lindsay carefully placed her tray on the table. “Before we talk cake, please, take a spoon and try these. I want to be sure they’re just what you want.”

After the tasting,we sat and sipped our tea while listening to the rain tap against the windows.

I hoped they’d wrapped early.

CHAPTER 19

Caitlin and Melissa wanted to do some shopping and invited me along. High Street in Inverness offered just enough boutiques and storefronts to keep them entertained without overwhelming me completely.

“I want to get Angus a good wedding gift, but it’s so hard to figure out what he’d like,” said Caitlin. “What do brides usually get their grooms, Abby?”

“You could get him a really nice watch. Some men like bracelets. Or cuff links?” I suggested.

“Maybe something to go with his kilt—a new kilt pin, or a new sporran,” added Melissa.

Caitlin bounced on her toes. “That’s a great idea. Something unique to him.”

I furrowed my brow. “Remind me what a sporran is?”

“You know,” Melissa’s face lit up with barely contained laughter. “That furry little pouch dangling right over the?—”

“It’s a traditional accessory,” Caitlin cut in, giving Melissa a light smack on the arm. “Kilts don’t have pockets, so men need somewhere for their essentials.”

Melissa pressed her lips together but couldn’t hide her grin. “Still looks like a fancy fanny pack to me.”

Caitlin rolled her eyes, the corner of her mouth twitching upward despite herself. “You do know what a fanny is over here, right?”

Melissa’s hand flew to her lips as her cheeks bloomed with color. Caitlin shook her head and smiled.

We ducked into a jewelry shop, a golfing shop—a swing and a miss!—and finally a kilt shop where we browsed through kilt pins and sporrans. Nothing really called to Caitlin. Discouraged, we continued down High Street until we spotted a used record store that looked fun.

The musty scent of aging vinyl greeted us as we entered a cramped room lined with record bins. The collection spanned decades—everybody’s gran had an amazing collection of Benny Goodman and Broadway musicals, and everyone’s uncle had a lot of 60s psychedelia. Then the GenXers had sold all their 90s grunge CDs, and occasionally, new artists still released physical copies as well.

While flipping through albums, Melissa suddenly froze over one particular sleeve. She caught my eye and waved me over.

As I stepped up beside her, she tilted the album cover toward me. “I swear I’ve seen this face before,” she whispered, her finger hovering over a young man with tousled dark hair and a goatee.

We looked at the album. The band had several hits back in the day. Quite a few, actually. There’d been some kind of tragedy. A death.