“I’m sure there’s still plenty of haggis left,” Wally said as he placed a stack of boxed meat pies and bridies next to the drinks.
“We need to toast Wally’s hurling abilities,” said Ian. “The vendor wouldn’t hear of taking any extra money after seeing the certificate. It covered our entire lunch.” He handed a box of scones to Annie to pass around the group.
Peggy cocked an eyebrow as she pulled two cups of soda out of the carrier, setting one in front of Emily. “These folks sure take their haggis hurling seriously!”
“And that is a good thing,” Annie added as she reached over for a drink. “This is a fine feast. The food smells delicious.” Her eyes roamed over the different boxes of food. “I can’t decide what to try first.”
Alice grinned, standing to bend over the boxes and transfer a bridie and a meat pie to her paper plate with a fork. “Then let your bossy friend decide for you.” She briskly cut each pastry in two and transferred a half to Annie’s plate. “That’ll get you started.”
“If you have any appetite left when you’ve eaten those, try the beef sausage rolls,” Ian suggested after politely wiping his having just taken a bite of one of the juicy sausage rolls. “This is really good.”
Annie stared down at her suddenly laden plate. “LeeAnn will be most appreciative of my friends’ efforts to make sure I don’t waste away from starvation. Now you will have to help me work off all these calories!” She selected the half-moon–shaped meat pie and took a bite. “Mmmmm.”
The volume of chatter inside the tent lowered as the female singer introduced the first song. “We can think of no better way to begin our music than with Ca’ the Yowes, a song written by Scotland’s own Robert Burns.” Behind her, a member of the band raised a flute and began a soft melody. “For those who are not familiar with the song, ‘yowes’ are ewes, female sheep.”
A fiddle and keyboard were added, and the audience seemed to pause from eating and talking, anticipating the entrance of the singer’s voice. It came, pure and delicate yet also strong. The song called to mind hills blanketed with heather and abiding love.
Wally swallowed a bite of meat pie. “Not exactly my kind of music,” he observed, “but the singer has a good set of pipes on her.”
“I think she’s beautiful,” Emily sighed. “I wonder if she likes to dance too.” The girl found it hard to comprehend anyone not loving to dance as much as she. Not able to pull her eyes away from the golden-haired woman, Emily nibbled on a scone.
The band began the second song, Wild Mountain Thyme, the singer’s eyes slowly roaming over the audience from the back to the closer tables.
Annie rested her cheek in her right hand, caught up in the gentle lilting strains of the music and voice. “I wonder what it’s like to be given a voice like hers. How many hours has she practiced over the years to develop her gift?”
“Looks like singing isn’t the only thing she’s been practicing,” Alice muttered under her breath, when the woman began the next song.
Annie turned to look at her friend sitting beside her. “What do you mean?”
“Can’t you tell who she’s singing to? You know, flirting?” Alice jerked her gaze toward Ian.
Annie shook herself out of the near trance the music had put her in and looked between the singer and the man at her left side. Sure enough, Alice’s observation was sound. While the woman’s gaze had previously been roving from person to person, she was now singing directly to Stony Point’s mayor:
“I will build my love a bower,
By yon clear crystal fountain,
And on it I will pile,
All the flowers of the mountain.
Will you go, lassie, go?”
The song went on, but the eyes of the singer did not. Alice and Annie stole glances at Ian, expecting to see some reaction from him. But the man was deep in conversation with Wally and was not looking toward the platform.
Annie leaned to whisper in Alice’s ear, “Surely she’ll realize he’s not noticing and find some other man to serenade.”
“Was that just a hint of jealousy speaking?” Alice whispered back.
Annie didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. Alice gave her a look of understanding and handed her a pack of Scottish shortbread. Giving her friend a wan smile, Annie broke open the shortbread and took a nibble of the buttery sweet.
Toward the end of the song, Ian and Wally concluded their discussion, and Ian returned his attention to the performers. The singer’s smile widened, and her blue eyes wooed the unsuspecting man as she sang: