Alice’s gaze moved over to Ian and back to Fin. “Did McKenna happen to mention flirting as one of her tactics to get our attention?”
While a light flush crept across the mayor’s face, Fin casually shrugged. “Noooo, she didn’t, but it sounds like her. She’s not above playing a part or using her charms, if she thinks it will enhance the value of her performance. Or in this case, grab the attention of people she wants to make sure are listening.”
Alice guffawed. “Well, I must admit that it was effective for that. But why didn’t she let us talk to her, after working so hard to get our attention? Did she tell you how she ran out on us?”
Fin nodded. “She did. She felt the story wasn’t hers to tell, so she was just trying to keep your curiosity peaked so you would keep looking and asking.”
“Too bad McKenna didn’t know Annie,” Ian said, recovering enough to laugh. “It would have saved her all the dramatic efforts. Annie never stops looking until her mysteries are solved.”
Annie raised her right hand. “What can I say? Blame it on all those Trixie Belden and Nancy Drew books I read as a kid. I hope McKenna will be pleased to hear the truth has, indeed, come out, and that the sporran has been returned to its rightful place.”
Ansley opened the cantle of the sporran, reaching inside to remove the ferrules. She stretched her hand, ferrules nestled in the palm, across the table toward Fin. “These belong to your family, Fin.” Pausing for a moment, a mental battle plain on her face, she then added the ferrule she had kept with her all those years. “All of them. Maybe someday you’ll be able to put them back on Tor’s pipes and pass them on to the younger generation of Clan Rose.”
Fin’s dark eyes stared into hers, decades of sorrow and guilt etched in their depths, yet leaving room for something else now: hope. He picked up one of the ferrules in his long fingers and placed it back in Ansley’s hand. “Mother is still in our home, and I don’t know that she’ll ever be ready to hear Tor’s pipes play.”
The slow dawning of an idea cast light onto the contours of Fin’s thin face. He added the rest of the ferrules to the single one in Ansley’s hand. “Dad entrusted the pipes to your father-in-law. Perhaps it’s time to return the ferrules to their original place, to be ready for the day when the pipes will be freely played again. Will you make sure they are restored?”
“I will,” Ansley answered, her voice quiet, yet strong. As she closed her fingers over the bands, Annie and Alice both dipped their heads to swipe at the moisture threatening to spill over from their eyes.
The jumble of miscellany Annie had inherited from her grandparents had brought much adventure of kinds she could never have imagined when she first arrived from Texas. She had to admit sometimes the finds brought danger. But other times, like this day, they brought healing or at least began the healing process. The three from Stony Point deeply felt the privilege of sharing the moment.
“I don’t know about the rest of you,” Ian said, after an appropriate amount of time, “but I think this occasion calls for fresh raspberry pie, straight from Marie’s oven.”
“Excellent idea,” Fin agreed. Ansley smiled her concurrence. Alice joined Ian at the end of the table to help serve the pie Peggy had brought from The Cup & Saucer.
When a slice sat before each person, Ian nipped a piece onto his fork and raised it like a glass of champagne. “Here’s to sweeter times ahead!”
“Here, here!” the others chimed before slipping the treat into their mouths. For a time, silence again overtook the group as they enjoyed the treat. Then Annie broached a subject she had been considering since hearing the whole story of the Gunns and Roses. “I have one more question for you, Ansley and Fin.”
Alice quipped, “Only one? Are you sure?”
“Only one.” Annie nodded decisively.
Fin was gathering the last delicious crumbs of his pie with his plastic fork. “Lay it on us, Annie.”
“I’ve been thinking … ,” Annie began. Her eyes dared her friends to add commentary. “It’s obvious to me from the way your families acted when I came around with my photos and the ferrule at the Games that you are all still very much connected and close.” She paused. “Ansley, your father canceled the seven-year tradition in order to help Fin’s mother in her grieving process, right?”
Ansley nodded. “But I’m sure Dad had no idea how long Mrs. Rose’s process was going to last.”
“It has stunned all of us,” added Fin.