“Thank you, Mr. … ” Annie started.
“MacTavish—like the sign says,” the pipemaker said. “I hope you will come back and see me, if you ever decide to learn piping.” He chuffed Emily gently under the chin. “Especially you, lassie. And come back next year to see young Colby play again. He’ll be a whole year better.”
Emily bobbed her head. “I will, if Mom and Daddy bring me. Bye, Mr. MacTavish!”
As Emily and the women left, Mr. MacTavish stood staring after them, deep in thought.
The women wove between the tents, seeking out more bagpipe or music vendors. Annie showed the ferrule to three more pipe experts, all of whom showed interest in the quality of the piece and design. None of them, however, could tell her anything about the hawk-and-rose design.
After they thanked the last vendor, Peggy stopped her friends outside the tent. “You know I’m all for clue hunting,” she said, “but if we don’t do the next part of the search more quickly, we won’t make it through all the vendors before we’re supposed to meet Wally and Ian. I suggest we split up.”
Alice looked at her watch. “Hmmm, I see what you mean. We’ve passed several tartan and clan tents, so I agree with your suggestion, Peggy.”
“I do, also,” said Annie. “Em, will you help your mom look for two things, the hawk-and-rose symbol and—” she pulled the photos of the sporran out of her bag and showed them to the young girl, “see the design on the clasp? The sprig is juniper. If we can find out what clan is associated with juniper, it might help us solve the mystery.” Then she handed two of the photos to Peggy. “Take these with you.”
“And call or text us if you find anything,” Alice told her. “Immediately!”
Peggy snorted to beat any Highland cow. “As if you had to tell me that!” She pointed to the row of tents opposite from where they were standing. “Em and I will take that side, and you two take this one.”
“Sounds good,” agreed Annie. “If we don’t find anything before 10:25, then let’s meet at MacTavish’s and go meet the guys.”
Peggy saluted, and with a “Happy hunting!” she and Em went on their way. The first tent they came to, Dress to Kilt, radiated with color. Clan tartans draped racks along the canvas walls, looking like mini waterfalls. Spinning displays of kilt pins and accessories flanked the entrance.
“Em, you look at those pins,” Peggy said, pointing her daughter to the display just across the entrance from where they were standing. “I’ll check the ones over here.” Excited to be a part of the sleuthing, Emily danced over to fulfill her assignment.
As mother and daughter concentrated on the pin designs, they didn’t notice the slim teenager in a dark kilt and black shirt come through the entrance until he started fiddling. Then they peered around the two displays to watch the young musician serenade the girl behind a table, who blushed delicately under the freckles that sprinkled her pale but lovely face.
He ended with a flourish and held out his fiddle and bow in supplication, layers of dark hair almost covering his eyes. “Will fiddle for kilt pin,” he said.
Emily clapped her hand over her mouth, and Peggy ducked slightly behind the display to hide her smile.
“My parents would never let me come back next year if I started bartering away inventory on entertainment, Eli.” The girl’s voice started out prim, like she was channeling a schoolmarm from the Victorian era. Then the corners of her mouth turned up, and her eyes softened. “Even if the fiddler is cute when he plays.”
The fiddler shifted one foot forward and gestured at his kilt with his bow. “Aw, Linley, I lost my kilt pin, and now I’ll have to keep flashing my thighs at everyone.”
“You may not thank me for it, but they will.” Linley’s smile widened into cheekiness. “But, maybe … .” The girl turned and poked her head through a gap in the back wall of the tent, looking left and then right to make sure her parents weren’t nearby. “I could loan you a pin until the end of the day. You’ll have to bring it back, or I’m in deep trouble when they do inventory. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”
Eli stepped as close to the girl as he could get with the table between them and leaned over the obstacle, speaking in a low voice. “I’d never want trouble for you. But won’t your parents be here at the end of the day, loading up stuff?”
“Yeah, probably.” Linley gave the young man a look that had Peggy suddenly feeling like an intruder. She suddenly was reminded of when she first fell for Wally. “I guess we’ll just have to meet somewhere away from the tent.”