Page 50 of The Highland Game
Good. He deserves it after leaving me stranded in that rainstorm. I’m not easing up until his ridiculous beer garden idea is dead and buried. Once life is back to normal, then—and only then—I’ll come clean to Jamie about the small matter of me being SassieLassie.
My gaze lands on one of the mugs cluttering my desk, the one with the faded Highland Legacy logo. How I’ll tell him, I’ve no clue. Maybe I’ll just rip the plaster off: Hey, Jamie, remember when I took the piss out of you saying you were probably talking to some pervy guy from Glasgow? Well, surprise! I’m Big Davie!
Not exactly a conversation guaranteed to end with a high five—but let’s face it, we’re more duellists at dawn than best mates anyway.
Pushing aside the tiny flicker of guilt twisting in my stomach, I grab the mug and absently swipe at a stubborn tea stain with my hoodie sleeve.
I haven’t actually played Highland Legacy since I took Lochie beyond the waterfall. Word around town is that Jamie’s traded his laptop for kettlebells anyway, so I doubt he’s had much time for gaming either.
The creaking of my bedroom door pulls me from my thoughts. Da.
“You still working away on that?” He comes closer and squints at the screen.
“Aye,” I say. “Hosting something community-focused will hopefully stir up a bit of loyalty, you know?”
“Hmm . . .”
“What is it?” I prod.
He tilts his head, meeting my gaze with a softened expression. “Look, Maisie, your passion is impressive—really—but even if this beer garden goes ahead, we’ll be okay. A beer garden is seasonal, remember. Something for the summer only.”
“Yes,” I say, trying to keep my frustration in check. “But the summer is when the tourists come and when we make most of our money. Even if it only affects us then, that’s still a big deal.”
“I doubt we’ll take much of a hit,” Da says with a casual shrug. As he heads for the door, he throws back over his shoulder, “Folk will still come here for what they always have—the food and the company.”
The moment the door clicks shut behind me, I let out a long breath. Da just doesn’t seem to appreciate the impact this could have on us.
I fiddle with the HDMI cable, muttering a quiet prayer to the tech gods as I jab it into place. The Pheasant is buzzing. It’s not quite at fire-code-breaking capacity yet, but it’s close—exactly as I’d hoped. If this turnout doesn’t remind everyone what this pub means to Bannock, then nothing will.
At last my laptop screen flickers onto the flatscreen TV above the Pheasant’s bar—a promising start—and a few patrons glance over before turning back to their pints or conversations. The quiz isn’t due to start for another ten minutes or so. I’m just getting myself organised.
“Maisie, dear!” A familiar voice carries across the room.
I crane my neck and spot Elspeth weaving her way through the crowd, her broad smile lighting up the room, her daughter, Iona, close behind her.
“Ladies!” I greet them warmly and pull each into a quick hug.
“What a wonderful theme for tonight’s quiz,” Elspeth says, her eyes sweeping across the room with approval. “Bannock’s history! Utterly brilliant. I’m excited about this one.” She gives my arm an affectionate squeeze. “Anyway, I’ll leave you two girls to have a quick chat. Iona, I’ll go get us a couple of wines and have a quick blether with Maisie’s father while I’m at it. See you in a few minutes!”
After she leaves, Iona takes in my outfit—a red tartan mini dress that I’m wearing over a white T-shirt—and says, “Maisie, you look amazing.”
“You don’t think the fishnets are a bit much?” I ask. When I checked in the mirror earlier, I thought they looked good with the chunky black boots I’m wearing, but it’s always good to get a second opinion.
“They’re great,” Iona assures me.
Clearing my throat, I tuck an errant strand of hair behind my ear. “By the way, I’m sorry I’ve been so scarce lately. Life has just been a bit . . . hectic.”
Iona gives a small smile and nods, but then a silence falls between us, which isn’t like us at all. Eventually Iona says, “Are we . . . okay, Maisie?”
I blink. “Aye, of course.”
Her shoulders relax slightly, but she still looks uncertain. “It’s just . . . I really don’t want this whole beer garden thing to get in the way of our friendship.”
I get what she’s trying to say. Her life is tied to the Bannock Hotel and the McIntyre family, which does put her in a somewhat awkward position.
“And it won’t,” I say firmly, giving her shoulder a quick squeeze. “Scottish Sirens stick together.”
Iona grins. “Well, this particular siren is parched. I’d better leave you to finish setting up, and I’ll go see Maw about that wine. Good luck, quizmaster!” She winks playfully then leaves me to it.
