Gunns & Roses(65)
Annie continued. “Would you and your families consider restoring the annual sporran competition in the spirit of healing, remembrance, and friendship? I realize that for some people, like Mrs. Rose, remembrance is torture, but it can also bring joy from sorrow as we celebrate the unique gift of every life, whether a long or short one.”
Annie told them about the days she had spent rocking on her porch in Texas after her husband, Wayne, died. Doubts and despondency had nagged at her, and it had not been until she allowed herself the freedom to embrace life again—taking an unexpected path to a little seaside village in Maine—that she had been able to truly honor her husband’s memory rather than wearing it like a suicide vest around her heart. Ansley and Fin listened intently, nodding in recognition.
When Annie concluded her story, Ansley and Fin sat quiet for a while as the three friends relaxed against the backs of their comfortable chairs, marveling at how everything at the Highland Games had come together to bring them all to this moment in the Stony Point Town Hall. No matter what the Gunn, Rose, and Bell families decided, the friends were thankful.
Fin was the first to speak. “Your idea of restoring the competition has never entered my mind, to be honest.” He glanced over at his longtime friend. “Ans, I think we should seriously consider it, and then discuss it with the rest of the families.” He returned his gaze to Annie. “What you told us about your grief for your husband hits home, Annie. Sadly, I don’t know if anyone has ever approached my mother in that way about Tor’s death. It might not help, but maybe it would. Thank you for sharing it.”
“Yes—thank you, Annie,” said Ansley. “You’ve given us lots to think about today. I appreciate it more than I can express.” She cradled the ferrules in her hand. “I’ll start by taking these and the pipes to Mr. MacTavish to have them refitted.”
Alice smiled. “Very fitting—no pun intended.”
Fin glanced at his watch. “Ans, we should get going. Afternoon chores are waiting. Thank you for lunch, Ian, and opening up your office to us on the spur of the moment. If there’s anything I can ever do for you, please let me know.”
“That goes for me too,” Ansley added.
“Now that you mention it,” Ian began with a grin, “just last night the town board voted to plan a Robert Burns Dinner for next January. We could use some fine Highland dancing for the event.” Annie and Alice perked up their heads.
“Wonderful! I’m so glad it went through,” exclaimed Annie.
“It’s going to be so much fun!” Alice added on the heels of Annie’s reaction.
Ansley turned her smile to each of her new friends. “I know Kyla will be overjoyed to perform for the dinner. Let me check to make sure her dance teacher hasn’t already scheduled her troupe before confirming with you.”
“Excellent,” said Ian. He reached over to shake Fin’s hand. “I hope we’ll see you again soon in our fair town.”
“Maybe even with Athena,” Alice added, with a mischievous wink, “as long as you don’t set her off on anyone.”
“Deal.” Fin laughed and stood up.
The trio escorted Ansley and Fin to the front door of the Town Hall, relieved to see the fog had thinned out some in the early afternoon. As the two visitors disappeared down the front steps, Ian turned to Annie and Alice. “Now, that’s what I call a good day at work.”
“Amen!” exclaimed Annie. “You know, Ian, since the town board approved the Robert Burns Dinner, I’m going to need your measurements soon. Brianna Kincaid is coming to A Stitch in Time in a few weeks, and now we can ask her to help us make the kilts for January.”
Alice informed Ian, “Brianna told us the measurements need to be taken by someone other than the person being measured. So you’d better let Annie take them.”
Annie suddenly needed to examine the contents of her bag, keeping her eyes away from both her impish best friend and Ian.
“Since I have no wish to show up at the dinner wearing a lopsided kilt, I will bow to Brianna’s expert advice,” Ian responded casually. He addressed Annie. “Why don’t you stop by the morning of the meeting? I’m always at work before nine.”
Annie drew her gaze out from her bag and let it brush by Ian’s ruggedly handsome face. “Sure. I’ll text you when I’m on my way as a reminder.” She dug into her bag again, this time in earnest, pulling out her car keys. “Thank you for being our contact for Fin and Ansley—and for lunch.”
“It was my pleasure,” Ian said. “You two drive safely.” He opened the outer door for them.