Gunns & Roses (5 page)

The group chuckled sympathetically, and Alice assured her, “We’ll make sure to tell you every detail, Gwen. Ian’s going too, and you know how observant he is.”

As one, the other women murmured “ohhhh!” and smiled knowingly. Blushing, Annie decided it was time to buy her yarn and get to work on the chicken sweaters.

5

A bit over a fortnight later, Alice opened the door of her carriage house to Ian’s knock with the full intention of surprising him with an energetic greeting. Instead, a wide yawn escaped in place of the hearty “Good morning” she had planned.

She clapped a hand over her mouth, and Ian grinned and said, “And good morning to you too, Alice. Would you mind a short stop at The Cup & Saucer for coffee before we head out of town?”

“If you insist,” she answered wryly, closing the door behind her and locking the deadbolt. “Haven’t you been up for at least two hours, like Annie?” She gestured toward the car where her best friend sat in the front passenger seat.

“Well, yes, now that you mention it,” Ian said as he opened the back car door for Alice. “But Tartan will be home alone again for the day, so I took him on a good long constitutional—a bit longer than I had anticipated, so coffee had to wait.”

“Your eyes
are
open,” Annie observed when Alice slid into the seat behind Ian. “Good for you.”

Stifling another yawn, smaller than the last, Alice replied, “Very funny, Little Miss Sunrise. We’ll see who has more energy by the end of the day.”

“The Games end at five o’clock. I think even I can stay lively until then,” Annie quipped, even though she had been in the garden as soon as the sun had sent enough light to distinguish between weed and vegetable.

Ian put the car into reverse and backed out of the carriage house driveway. “After a quick stop for coffee we’ll all have plenty of vigor to spare. Watch out, Scottish clans of the Highland Games!” he said.

A few minutes later Ian maneuvered his car into a parking space near the diner. “Three coffees to go?” he asked to confirm. Annie nodded, smiling and Alice blurted, “Absolutely! But you two might need some too.” With a laugh, Ian exited the car and strode across the sidewalk to disappear into the building.

Annie gazed out the window at the quiet street. The fish and lobster boats had been on the Gulf of Maine for hours, but the tourists had not yet filled the walkways to explore the quaint village. A lone woman in jeans and a T-shirt walking briskly toward them caught Annie’s eyes.

“Hi, Carla!” Annie rolled down the car window and called to the veterinarian and head of the animal shelter. “How are the hens doing?” She had spent the better part of the previous two weeks crocheting chicken sweaters in yellow, green, and blue yarn.

“Could be better,” Carla answered in her typical clipped manner. “Could be worse.” At the age of sixty-plus, she didn’t see the need for wasting time on what she saw as superfluous chatter.

“Have you been able to find homes for them?” Alice asked.

“A couple of farmers have stepped up, but we need one or two more,” Carla answered. She fixed her dagger eyes on Annie. “The sweaters seem to be helping.”

Annie wasn’t sure, but it seemed to her she’d just heard a positive statement from the crusty woman, sadly nicknamed “Carla Callous” by someone in Stony Point. “I’m glad to hear it,” Annie said. “Let us know if you need any more.”

Carla jerked her chin down and up in response and continued on her way.

Alice’s eyes followed the woman’s staccato pace until she disappeared around the corner. “Carla’s as different from your grandpa as a person can be, but there’s no denying she’s as strong an advocate for animals as he was.”

“It would have been interesting to watch them interact, I’m sure,” Annie said, picturing the two veterinarians in conversation. That brought a smile to her face.

Alice smiled too, but not because of Annie’s words. She had just noticed the beverage carrier in Ian’s hands as he came through The Cup & Saucer door, the one with two medium and two large coffee cups. “Now there’s a mayor who knows how to serve his constituents.”

Annie’s head swiveled around to look, and then a laugh followed. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, he does. I might consider voting for him when election day comes around. He’ll be running on the ‘More Coffee for Every Cup’ platform.”

“I’d be willing to hand out fliers for that campaign,” Alice practically cooed as Ian opened the back door.

The mayor grinned and lifted one of the medium cups out of the carrier and presented it to Alice. A raised eyebrow replaced the woman’s coo. “It’s not nice to play a joke before caffeine has been administered.”

Ian bobbed his head and set the smaller cup back into the carrier. “How could I forget? That’s one of the first rules I learned while preparing for government work.” He held out a large cup. “My apologies, Alice.”

“If that second large cup is also for me, then apology accepted.” Alice flicked the cover flap up with a thumb and breathed in the strong brew. “Aaaah! The fog is already lifting.”

Ian gifted Alice with the second large cup and took his place behind the wheel of his sedan, placing the remaining two cups in the holders between Annie and him. After tucking the carrier out of sight in the glove compartment, he started the engine, and craning his head, pulled out of the parking space. “Topsham Fairgrounds, here we come!”

Alice lowered her coffee cup after a good deep draught. “Annie, I’ve been thinking. Did you bring the sporran and the ferrules with you? I realized it might not be the safest thing to do with the crowds.”

“I thought about that too,” her friend replied. “So, I took some photos and printed them out.” She reached into her summer handbag and pulled out several pages. “These should be enough to show vendors, don’t you think?” She handed the photos back to Alice.

Alice looked through them. “These should work fine. You’ve taken them from different angles so it’s almost as good as having the sporran with you.” She dangled the pages over the seat so Annie could put them back in her bag.

“I did bring one of the ferrules,” added Annie. “But I left the others tucked away in Grey Gables with Boots as watch cat.”

“I hope you fed Boots well for her assignment,” joked Ian as he turned off Main Street to head south.

The two women snorted simultaneously. “It’s Boots we’re talking about here,” Annie reminded him. “Of course I did.”

Alice chimed in. “Daring to leave Boots without her kibble is like denying Garfield his lasagna. Dangerous.”

“I stand … uh, sit, corrected.” Ian smiled, realizing just how much he was looking forward to spending the entire day with the two vivacious friends.

The ride to Topsham flew by on the speedy wings of conversation and wit. They were all taken by surprise when the sign for the turnoff to the fairgrounds appeared.

“Where are we meeting the Carsons?” Alice asked as Ian slowly drove by the lines of parked vehicles looking for an open spot.

“Wally told me to call him when we’re at the main parade field so they can meet us there.” Ian paused as he waited for a couple to walk past in front of the empty space he intended to fill. “They usually have big tents with different-color stripes around the field. If we find one with a unique color, it’ll make it easier for them to find us.” The way cleared, he pulled into the space and parked.

Annie exited the car, digging into her bag to retrieve a periwinkle blue brimmed hat. As she adjusted the hat over her forehead so she had just enough to shade her eyes from the sun without blocking her vision, she looked around. “And what direction would the parade field be?”

Ian was gazing at Annie, admiring how the color of her hat made her eyes appear even greener. He paused in answering long enough to draw the attention of Alice, who allowed a shadow of a smile to cross her lips. Ignoring Alice’s expression, Ian gestured ahead of them and to the left. “This way, ladies. Just let me grab the chairs.” He popped open the trunk with his key and ducked behind it to retrieve the chairs.

Alice pulled a Red Sox baseball cap out of her jeans pocket and settled it on her head, drawing her high auburn ponytail through the hole in the back while laughing to herself that the mayor would be much less enamored with her style choice. But since she had never been able to feel anything but a warm friendship for Ian, she was fine with that.

At the entrance to the Highland Games, Ian obtained brochures of the event for each of them. He glanced at his watch. “We have plenty of time to find a good vantage point for the parade of bands. Let’s check out the tents.” The three wove through the groups of people milling around the smaller tents near the entrance. Once they reached the perimeter of the large level main field, they stopped to take in the scene before them. Tall trees wearing their summer green lushness bordered the field, making a fine backdrop for the festivities.

“The tents look so cheery against the green trees,” Annie said. “I see three yellow-stripe tents, two green-stripes, and one blue-stripe over there.” She pointed to the blue tent positioned near the center of the field lengthwise. “Anyone see another blue-stripe tent?”

After a minute of scanning around the whole field, Alice shook her head. “I don’t.”

“Neither do I,” agreed Ian, “and it’s near the center of the field, making it a great vantage point. Let’s meet the Carsons there.”

As they made their way toward the blue-stripe tent, the mayor called Wally to tell him where they would meet. “Wally’s just parked,” he informed Annie and Alice after returning his phone to its case attached to his belt. “They won’t be long.”

When they arrived at the blue-stripe tent, a lot of people had already set out chairs behind the colorful flagged barrier, but there was still room for the Stony Point contingent. Ever the gentleman, Ian opened the camp chairs and made sure the two women were comfortable; then he strolled back and forth over the adjacent square of grass to keep it free for the Carsons.

Annie’s eyes sparkled as she watched the activity around her and felt the cooling breeze flow across the field to caress her. “I still can’t get over the difference between Maine and Texas Augusts,” she said. “There was no way I would go to an all-day outdoor event in August back home. OK, maybe I would go, if I had to, but I wouldn’t enjoy it.” She leaned back in her chair with a happy sigh. “Here I can people-watch all I want without sweating; I like that.”

Alice looked sideways in Ian’s direction. “I think Ian wants to
person
-watch.” She leaned closer to Annie and dropped her voice. “Did you notice how he looked at you while you were putting on your hat? Rarely is our mayor so entranced by headgear.”

Annie opened her mouth to deny Alice’s observation, something she’d begun to do instinctively over the prior few months, but she saw the Carsons making their way toward them. “Oh, there they are.” She waved vigorously at the parents and daughter.

Peggy had slung a large bag stuffed with an old quilt from her shoulder, her wrist now free of any bandaging. Alice called out to them, “Come stake your claim. Ian’s been working hard to keep that patch clear of squatters.”

“Thanks, Mr. Mayor,” Peggy said as she approached Ian. “The crowds are growing fast.” She lowered the bag to the ground and pulled the quilt free to spread it next to Ian’s chair. “Even Em won’t have any trouble seeing everything from here.”

Emily jumped up and down, pointing across the field. “Mom, look! All those people are in skirts, I mean, kilts.” She ran over to her father, who was talking to Ian. “Look, Daddy! Those are the kilts I was telling you about. Would you ever wear one?”

Annie consulted her brochure. “Wally, if you and Ian can each buy a kilt before noon you could enter the Bonnie Knees contest.”

The face of the quiet handyman flushed, but he laughed at the suggestion. “Annie, you’re one of my best customers, along with Ian, but there’s no way you could get me in one of those things. No matter what fancy word you use, it’s still a skirt.”

“I guess it’s a good thing you’re not Scottish then,” Peggy said, straightening a corner of the blanket and sitting down. She looked across the field to see the bands arranged in neat lines. “Looks like it’s starting soon.” She patted the blanket beside her. “Come relax after your busy week.”

“Do I have to sit?” asked Emily. “Can’t I just stand right here?” The ride from Stony Point had been more than enough sitting for the young girl.

Understanding, Peggy looked behind them to make sure her daughter wouldn’t be blocking the view of other people. “It’s all right, as long as you don’t forget and dance in front of folks so they can’t see.”

“I won’t,” the girl promised. She reached down to hug her mother and then stood beside the blanket swaying like a young sapling in the breeze. “Here they come!” she squealed as the stewards gave the signal and the first bagpipes-and-drum band marched onto the fields playing
God Bless America
, led by three flagmen.

It had been several years since Annie had heard bagpipes being played. As the following bands joined the first, and the sound swelled, her attention was captured by the unique sound. She reached into her bag and fingered the solitary ferrule. Had any of her family members played the haunting instrument?

“They have funny shoes,” Emily commented, holding back a giggle. “Or are they funny boots?”

“They’re called spats, Emily,” answered Ian. “They are made from thick canvas, usually, and attached over boots or shoes.”

Emily’s eyes were trained on the bands, but her slim body kept moving to the rhythm of the drums. “Spats. I like that word. Snazzy spats.” She did giggle that time. A moment later she gasped and pointed to the band that had just stepped on the field. “Look at the band in red and black. See that kid? He looks about my age!”

Wally shielded his eyes with a hand as he peered at the band. “He sure does, Em.” They all watched as the pint-sized piper moved smoothly across the field in perfect step with the rest of the band.

“He’s got a good sense of timing, you can tell,” said Annie. “I wonder how heavy those bagpipes are. Do you know, Alice?”

Alice shook her head. “Not really. I’ve never held one, but I suspect they come in different weights, especially since they can be made from different types of wood and with plastic or metal parts.”

“Sounds like a good question to ask those vendors you’re planning to visit, Annie,” Ian suggested.

A gust of breeze threatened to snatch Annie’s hat off her head. She grabbed it just in time and settled it more snuggly. “If I remember, I’ll ask. Or maybe Alice and Peggy can do that while I concentrate on the sporran and ferrules.”