Gunns & Roses(42)
“Oops,” the girl gasped. “Sorry!” The teen jerked the stroller to the left to make more room and hurried away, her flip-flops smacking the ground like rapid fire.
Peggy’s eyes followed the stroller for a moment. “I sure hope that girl doesn’t harm the little one with her recklessness.” She shook her head to refocus her thoughts. “Anyway, as I was about to say, Mr. MacTavish sounded like he’d been around the Games for a long time. He must know a bunch of the families that come every year.”
“That’s right,” agreed Alice, “and he kinda paused when Annie showed him the ferrule, but he still said he didn’t know which clan it was from. He even told us to try at the clan tents.”
Annie snapped her fingers. “And yet, remember how the woman at Kilt and Caboodle told us right away that the ferrule had a custom design? Wouldn’t someone who’s been in the bagpipe business as long as Mr. MacTavish know it too?”
“Sounds suspicious to me,” said Wally. He paused in his steps as the group came to an intersection of tents, glancing at the map once more. “We need to turn to the right here.”
“Do you suppose Mr. MacTavish alerted Hep, and the singer, and Kyla’s uncle about Annie’s questions?” asked Alice.
Ian cupped his hand around Annie’s left elbow to steer her over a few steps, making way for a pushcart of Highland Games paraphernalia moving past them. “Could be, Alice,” he said. “Which gives me an idea of what Wally and I can do while you ladies learn kilt-making.” He turned back to address Wally. “Why don’t you and I go back to the athletic events and see what we can find out about Hep? Maybe we can have a longer conversation with him, if he’s around.”
Wally considered his friend’s suggestion. “That’s probably the best thing we could do. But—” he paused and looked around at the women, “I won’t be comfortable with Ian and me leaving you, unless you promise to stick together while we’re gone.” He gazed into his wife’s eyes. “Peggy, no wandering off to follow some curious person or clue.” Then he shifted his gaze back to the whole group. “And that goes for all of you.”
“OK, Dad.” Emily nodded sincerely, excited to be included in the group of women.
“What she said,” Alice said with a wink over the girl’s head.
Peggy’s eyes glinted. “What if it’s a totally safe clue?” When Wally pulled his shoulders back and opened his mouth to respond, she interrupted him. “I’m kidding! Don’t go all bodyguard on me.” She drew her arm through his and leaned into his side. “You know we won’t do anything foolish with Em along.”
Ian slowed down, peeking into the small building they had just approached. “This looks like the right building.” He put on a stern face, wagging a finger in front of Annie and Alice. “Remember, you may have suckered me into wearing a kilt, but I’m still the mayor of Stony Point, and I will be representing our town. Keep that in mind as you choose the colors,” he swallowed loudly, “and length.”
The women chuckled. “Don’t worry, Ian,” said Alice. “We’ll do you proud so you can do Stony Point proud.”
Annie nodded her agreement and added, “Ian, we won’t be making your kilt today anyway. We’ll need to take your measurements first. You’ll have a say in how the kilt is finished.”
“Thank you,” Ian responded, with as much dignity as he could muster. “If all goes well, perhaps I’ll wear the kilt at the town’s first Robbie Burns Dinner.”
“Come on, Ian, stop yakking, and let’s get a move on,” Wally growled. “Maybe I’ll still get to see some of the Sheaf Toss competition.”
The females watched the two men stride away toward the athletic fields before entering the building. Peggy took Emily’s hand and stepped through the doorway, and Annie and Alice followed.
Inside the single-room building, a woman stood behind a long white table filled with tartans and assorted sewing notions. Though her chin-length hair was a pure, soft white, the woman’s skin was smooth with only small laugh lines at the corners of her cheerful eyes. She opened her arms wide in greeting to the newcomers.
“Come in, come in! We’re just about to get started.” She indicated some empty chairs closer to the table, and the Stony Point women quickly took their seats, smiling at the six other females gathered there. Emily stared at all the different tartan swatches mounted on a bristol board.
The woman began, “In case you’ve stumbled into the wrong building, I’m Brianna Kincaid, and I’ll be demonstrating how to make your own kilt. If you were hoping to learn how to make Scottish black pudding, you’ve overshot by two doors.” She waved her right thumb toward the right and looked around the group, as though waiting for someone to rise, but there were only snickers. “No pudding takers? Great! Let’s get started.”