Page 74 of Highlands Summer Wedding

“I’m sure your father is paying him.”

“I’m sure he’ll try, but if I know Sandy MacGregor, he won’t let Dad pay him a dime,” said Caitlin.

“We should’ve organized a girl’s day…,” Mom said, looking at Caitlin. “I didn’t even think of it.”

I raised my hand. “That’s my job. I already have something organized. I told Caitlin but forgot to tell you. You two are getting massages.”

“Where do we have to go?” asked Mom, still fretting over what to wear.

“Just upstairs.”

Mom and Caitlinfollowed me to a huge room with large windows on the top floor.

“This is where Melissa and I stayed!” said Caitlin. “But this was a special suite…” she stopped herself.

During the snowstorm, she and Melissa had thought they’d stolen the best room in the inn from Drew and Angus, while the men were supposedly staying in a storage room. They’d later learned that Drew was actually the owner of the hotel—and more recently, Caitlin had discovered that Angus was the financier.

“Itisa special suite. And with your fiancé as the financier of Drew’s hotels, that makes this room available to you.”

Caitlin shot a look at the ceiling. “Too bad we didn’t know that when it was full up with the film crew.”

“Well, a reservation is a reservation. But look at this gorgeous view. All yours. For today, or forever.”

“We talked about all that a bit. The whole idea is overwhelming to me, and even to Angus. He likes to pretend he doesn’t have money and just live like a regular person. We’re going to continue that way.”

“What about playing music together?”

“I think we can still do that. It was years ago he was so famous. And it’s not like he was a solo artist—he performed under the band name. So only the most rabid fans might catch on. We think it’s safe.”

She folded her arms and turned to look at the view. “He has quite a few charitable contributions—music programs in Boston and Scotland, scholarships, stipends—and I’m thinking of starting something for Scottish wildcats.”

The massage therapists came in, and I left them to it.

As I headed down the stairs, I caught Max’s eye while he lingered over his breakfast.

I sat down in the chair across from him. “What are you going to do today?” I asked, realizing that in all my wedding planning I hadn’t given him anything to do on what would be my busiest day.

“Angus asked me to join the guys in the wedding party for darts and trivia in the pub.”

“Don’t let them drink too much!”

“Got it. I’m the designated party pooper,” he said, nudging my foot under the table.

I left him and went outside to check on the setup. The white chairs were arranged perfectly on the back lawn by the gazebo, which was decorated with white and purple flowers and ribbons. Purple plaid sashes adorned each of the chairs, and a podium stood at the front for the officiant.

I checked my watch. 11 am. Time for hair and makeup. The wedding would start at 1:30. Two and a half hours to go.

At 12:30I stood in the corner of the MacAlister’s top floor guest room looking at my stunning sister. Her curly blonde hair was styled the same as always, but she wore a little wreath of flowers in it that made her look like a Druid or a fairy princess that had just emerged from the Callanish stones and set her sights on the first flannel-clad, guitar-playing lumberjack she’d laid eyes on. Her dress reflected that. Yes, it was a gorgeous white wedding dress—but with a decidedly punk-grunge feel to it. Ruching gave soft texture to the structured bodice, while two kilt-like straps cinched the waist. Underneath it all, she wore her white high-heeled Doc Martens.

Mom wore a solid navy dress with a Montgomery plaid tartan sash she’d bought in town to match Dad’s kilt. I wore a solid lavender bridesmaid’s dress with a Scotland Forever plaid sash.

“You look just perfect, Caitlin. I’m so happy for you!” I tried to keep my voice light, but it wavered as I looked at her.

She gave me a hug, careful not to disturb her makeup or dress. “I’m so glad you were able to make everything work. We’re in the exact place we most wanted to be. Right where we met.”

“Technically, you met in the loch…”

“I’m not getting marriedinLoch Ness, thank you very much.”