In response, Ian took a hearty bite, chewing thoroughly as he considered possibilities. His eyes brightened, and then he swallowed. “Hey, have you heard of the Maine Highland Games?” he asked. “It’s held every August at the Topsham Fairgrounds. All kinds of vendors and demonstrators fill the lanes. You’ll find a good deal of Scottish knowledge in one place.”
“August? Do you know when in August?” asked Annie. “I might just cry if it was this past weekend.”
Ian finished wiping his mouth with his napkin. “No tears needed. It’s always on the third Saturday of August. Are you free that weekend?”
“I’m pretty sure I am,” Annie answered, hoping she hadn’t forgotten anything on her calendar at home. “How far is Topsham from here?”
“Right next door in Sagadahoc County,” Ian said, setting his coffee cup down. “I’d be glad to take you. They have the best sheepdog trials around these parts, and I haven’t had the chance to go the last few years.”
“Are you thinking of breaking Tartan into another career?” Annie grinned.
“Now, that would be sure to give everyone some entertainment!” Ian laughed. “So, how about it?”
“I’d love to, just let me check my calendar to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything. May I call you later to confirm?” Annie sipped the last few drops of her iced coffee, refreshed by both the beverage and the conversation.
“Of course you can,” said Ian. His voice slipped into his “official” voice. “As mayor, I’m always pleased to hear from my constituents, especially when said constituent is a pretty Texas transplant with a penchant for mysteries and a talent for cooking.”
A few minutes later the couple said goodbye and departed to go their separate ways, one to City Hall and the other back to Grey Gables.
4
“I can’t believe you refused to get up early enough for us to walk downtown.” Annie glanced sideways at Alice from the driver’s seat of her car on Tuesday morning. “It won’t be long before this perfect weather is just a memory.”
“I told you August is my semi-vacation month,” Alice argued, with a chuckle hiding behind her words. “Early rising would totally ruin the whole concept. I promise to take a good long jaunt after the meeting, if it will make you happy.”
Annie turned left from Oak Lane to Main Street, slowing to look for a parking space near A Stitch in Time, Stony Point’s needlecraft shop and meeting place for the Hook and Needle Club. “Early rising? The meeting’s at eleven o’clock! Are you sure you want to go with Ian and me to the Highland Games? We’re leaving at eight o’clock in the morning, sharp. It might ruin your semi-vacation month.”
As usual, Stella Brickson had already arrived, her white Lincoln parked right in front of the shop door with her driver, Jason, standing beside it. He waved as Annie pulled into the parking space behind him.
As she opened her door, Alice answered her friend. “I think an event that I’ve never attended and that happens only once a year is sufficient motivation for getting up so horribly early.”
“Well, thank the Lord for that,” Annie said. She grinned at Alice and exited the car. “Good morning, Jason.”
“Hello, Annie. Alice.” Seven years of life in Maine had done nothing to alter the man’s strong New York accent. Annie supposed after seven years, she would still have plenty of the Lone Star state in her voice. “Great baseball weather we’re having.”
“Shall we tell Stella you’ll be at the Yankees game, should she need you?” Alice asked, batting her eyelashes outrageously at him.
Jason pointed a curled-up sports section of the New York Times at her. “Don’t tempt me, Alice. Don’t tempt me.”
At that, Alice opened the door of the shop and Annie followed her inside so they wouldn’t miss the start of the meeting.
A Stitch in Time had grown a reputation in the nearby counties for being a place filled with inspiration and the supplies to make those inspirations real. More and more customers had found their way there, and it was particularly busy during tourist season when folks were looking for something to occupy themselves during long rides, whether in a car, plane, or train. But Annie still found herself a little surprised to see several people she’d never seen on a Tuesday morning.
The owner, Mary Beth Brock, stood behind the cash register ringing up a pile of yarns and pattern books. Excusing herself to the customer, she called out. “Hi, Annie and Alice! I’ll be there in just a few minutes. Please let the others know.”