“The board has already been replaced,” Ian assured her. “As soon as Wally called me, I sent a crew over. We can’t have our citizens or visitors hurt while enjoying the waterfront.”
“I appreciate your diligence, Ian,” said Annie. “I wonder how Lisa is going to handle the whole room during a tourist season shift?”
Ian smiled. “Here comes the answer to your question, I think.”
Annie looked up to see Breck—the young man who usually bused tables—heading toward them with a pad clutched in his long fingers. He stopped, towering over them, his eyes shy. He asked in a voice that sounded as though he didn’t use it very much, “What can I get for you … uh, Miss Annie, Mayor Butler?”
“Just an iced coffee for me, Breck,” answered Annie. “How do you like waiting tables?”
Breck tossed his head to swing the tawny curls from his eyes and scribbled on the pad. After an extended pause he managed, “Won’t be long.”
“I’ll have a regular coffee and an egg sandwich,” Ian said. After Breck had scribbled and left, he turned his attention back to Annie. “Tartan and I went a little too far on our morning walk, and I had to skip breakfast to get to an early meeting on time.”
“You didn’t skip it,” Annie chuckled. “You just postponed it a bit.”
Ian leaned across the table and lowered his voice, his eyes mischievous. “Would that Charlotte was as good-natured about it. I think she would have rapped my knuckles with a ruler, if there’d been one handy. Perhaps her upcoming vacation will loosen her up again and bring back her smile.” Charlotte Nash was Ian’s executive assistant at City Hall. He settled back against the back of the booth. “So, tell me what you’ve been up to lately.”
Annie paused as Breck served their beverages. “I have found myself, to my utter surprise, to be nurturing thriving gardens this summer,” she bragged to Ian. “Most of my mornings are spent in my vegetables and flowers.” She paused and lifted her project bag. “And … I’m sure this will be shocking to you … my attic has provided me with another mystery.”
“Well, it’s about time!” said Ian. “It’s been a bit since the last one. If it’s fitting in your project bag, it must be smaller than the last one.”
Annie lifted the sporran out of the bag and opened the clasp to draw out the ferrules to show Ian. “This is why I came into town today, to find out more about this sporran. Mike just told me that these bands are ferrules—parts of a bagpipe. I don’t remember Gram and Grandpa ever showing these to me or having a bagpipe. Why would they be in Grey Gables’s attic?”
“May I?” After Annie’s nod, Ian picked up first a ferrule and then the sporran. “I seem to remember one of your grandparents being from Scottish roots. I know these Celtic designs can be Scottish, Irish, or Welsh, but maybe that’s the connection.”
“Yes, Gram’s family hailed from Scotland,” Annie confirmed. “But I don’t think this is connected with them, or I’m sure she would have shown it to me. Both of my grandparents loved telling me family stories, you know. But just to make sure, I’m going to check out the family names and see if I can find any connection to these symbols.” She pointed to the clasp. “Do you know what that sprig is from?”
Ian examined the clasp and then nodded. “It’s some type of juniper.” He ran his hand along the sleek fur. “I know this is sealskin. Imports of sealskin to the U.S. have been banned for decades, so it’s probably older than the ban.”
“Another thing I can’t figure out is why I found a sporran but no kilt, even after searching for hours with Alice, and ferrules but no bagpipes. How about the engraving on the ferrules; have you ever seen anything like it?” Annie took a sip of her iced coffee.
Ian pondered the bird and rose and shook his head. “No, I don’t remember seeing anything like this.” Breck sidled up to the table and slid the plate containing an egg sandwich in front of Ian. “Thanks, Breck.” The young man gave the barest hint of a nod, which more resembled a muscle spasm, before turning aside to another table.
“I’m thinking of checking at the library for Scottish clan information, in case the connection is to Gram’s family. Any ideas for other places where I might find some expert help?” Ian had often helped Annie solve the mysteries she so regularly stumbled upon—sometimes literally.
“Now let me think on it a minute,” said Ian.
Annie smiled. “Eat your sandwich. Maybe the nourishment will spark an idea.”