The Trouble with Scotland Page 8

  “Clever.”

  “Will you help?” Kirsty asked with a warm tone.

  Oliver stared at the schoolteacher as if he were wishing upon a star. Sadie had never seen him like this. Oliver had a crush. A big one.

  When Kirsty turned away, apparently to scope out the work area, Sadie took the opportunity to wave a hand in front of her brother’s face.

  The trick worked, breaking the spell. Oliver glowered at Sadie with the disgust of the proverbial older brother. He must have it bad for the teacher, though, because before Kirsty wheeled back around, a smile had returned to his face.

  Kirsty pulled a pattern out and spread it on the table. She explained how, if they worked together, it wouldn’t take long to get the chair pockets done.

  “So?” Kirsty finished. “Will ye help?”

  “Of course, she will,” Oliver answered for her.

  Just then, Maggie’s bedroom door opened, and she came in with baby Irene, whose dark red curls were going this way and that. She sucked her thumb, taking them all in with her deep blue eyes.

  “We’ve more company,” mother said to the baby.

  “Maggie, this is my brother, Oliver.” The bully.

  Now Sadie caught the longing glance Kirsty cast at Oliver. But at least the schoolteacher was more discreet than Oliver’s tripping-over-himself infatuation. Good Lord. When had they had time to fall head-over-heels-in-crush?

  For a brief second, Sadie wondered if she’d be able to get her brother out of this town and back home. But it would be fine. Oliver was more career-focused than anyone she’d ever met. He would never leave his clients in the US for a woman, even if she was as sweet as Kirsty seemed to be. Oliver was more levelheaded than that.

  The cottage door opened and two women she hadn’t met came in with baskets. Moira and little Glenna trailed behind.

  “We’ve brought sandwiches,” the taller one said.

  The younger of the two newcomers made a silly face at Irene, and the baby smiled around her thumb.

  Maggie handed the little one off to the woman, who had to be close to Sadie in age. “These are my sisters—Rowena and Sinnie.”

  The women said hello, but Sadie could tell the younger one, Sinnie, wasn’t nearly as outgoing as Rowena.

  Rowena lifted her head in acknowledgment.

  Within a minute, Deydie and Bethia turned up, too. The room was beginning to feel tighter than the Spanx Gigi had bought last Christmas. Sadie looked to Maggie to see if she minded the growing number of people overrunning her house. Maggie didn’t. Neither did baby Irene. The cherub was chortling loudly at the faces her aunt Sinnie made at her.

  Deydie and Bethia took up spots at the table, opening up their notebooks. As Deydie pulled a pencil from behind her ear, Amy along with the matronly twins arrived. Now, every open space was filled.

  This is all too much. Sadie started to rise, hoping to slip out.

  But Deydie caught her arm. “Stay. Ye’ve work to do,” she said glancing around. “Moira? Get over here. We need to go over this list.”

  But Sadie had a question. “Who’s at Quilting Central supervising the retreat?”

  “Claire and Dominic are feeding our guests their lunch,” Bethia said. “We only have a short while.”

  Maggie and Rowena were handing out drinks and sandwiches, while Moira took Amy’s spot, looking self-conscious.

  Deydie examined her page. “Did ye double-check yere wedding date against the waxing and waning of the moon?”

  “Nay.” Moira bit her lip, looking dismayed.

  Bethia flipped to a page in her notebook. “No worries. I took care of it. The date’s fine. It’s during the waxing.”

  “Good. ’Tis bad luck to wed during the waning.” Deydie made a check mark on her list. “Now, Moira, we need to talk about the wedding cake. This is where ye and Andrew are to splurge.”

  Maggie spoke up as she handed off another glass. “She’s asked me to make the brandy-flavored fruitcake. I’ve been gathering the supplies. Rowena and Sinnie will help.”

  Deydie grabbed a sandwich, frowning. “Fruitcake is traditional, I’ll grant ye, but I—I mean, most of us like chocolate. What do ye say if we change it to the town’s favorite?”

  Maggie set a glass down in front of Deydie. “If Moira wants it, I can make one layer chocolate and one fruitcake.”

  Moira nodded. “That would be fine.”

  Deydie ran a finger down her page, but kept talking. “Because we’re doing our version of the Penny Wedding, the rest of us will bring the food and drink.”

  The one named Ailsa spoke up. Sadie had dubbed her half of the plaid twins, as she and her sister had on matching plaid dresses again. Ailsa’s was green. “We’re all happy to pitch in. It’s the least we can do for the good Father watching after his sheep.”

  Aileen laughed, the twin who was red-plaided. “And finally getting around to making Moira his bride.”

  A cheer went up around the room.

  “Quiet down.” Deydie went back to her list. “Moira, how is the ‘wedding sark’ coming? Will ye have Andrew’s shirt done in time?”

  Moira shifted in her chair. “I’ve only the buttons left to do.”

  “And Glenna’s dress?”

  Moira smiled over at her young cousin who was eating her sandwich. “’Tis done.”

  Bethia leaned over and touched the brooch that Moira wore every day. “It’s a lovely luckenbooth that Andrew gave ye.”

  “It was his mother’s,” she said quietly.

  Bethia sat back, giving the bride a compassionate nod as if she was Moira’s grandmother. “When ye and Andrew have yere first bairn, ye’ll have to pin this to the babe’s first quilt for good luck.”

  Deydie cleared her throat. “I think we best get through the wedding before we discuss the bairns.”

  Moira’s face turned a darker shade of red than her plum outfit.

  Deydie tapped her pencil. “The last thing we need to discuss is the wedding dress. Ailsa? Aileen? How’s it coming?” Before they could answer, Deydie turned to Sadie and explained, “Moira wants to wear her mama’s wedding dress. Of course, it’s Andrew’s responsibility to pay for his bride’s dress, so he’s paying for the alterations.”

  Amy leaned over and spoke to Sadie. “Pixie died a while back.”

  “Sister and I have it nearly done. Moira, we’ll be ready for ye to try it on come next week.”

  “Good. Good.” Deydie wrapped her sandwich in a napkin and stood, as if calling the meeting to an end. The crowd began moving toward the door. “Wait a minute. About the rest of ye and what ye’re going to wear to the wedding.”

  Sadie thought this was a strange statement.

  “Wear yere best dress, any color ye want, except green or black.”

  Black seemed obvious because of its link to funerals.

  “Why not green?” Sadie braved.

  Deydie nodded as if she approved of her speaking up and asking questions. “Because green is the color of the fairies. Bad luck to wear green to a wedding.”

  The ladies nodded as if this was common knowledge. Sadie would’ve liked to have seen this wedding, but she wasn’t going to be here that long.

  “We better get back to our quilters,” Bethia said, rushing for the door.

  Deydie had one more thing to impart before leaving. “I need a few of ye to stay behind and help Sadie here with the chair pockets.”

  “We’ll stay,” Rowena said. “Sinnie and I want to help cut them out.”

  Sinnie nodded as well.

  Oliver tapped Sadie’s arm as he headed for the door. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  Sadie figured it would be a while, as he mostly had his eyes set on Kirsty.

  Maggie wove through the few remaining people as they went for the door. “I’ll get the extra scissors.�
�� When she reached the treadle machine, she pulled open the top drawer and produced two pairs of Wiss scissors. “Here they are.”

  Scissors like Gigi’s.

  The sight of those slightly tarnished steel scissors made something in Sadie’s chest constrict painfully. Tears filled her eyes. She willed them away, blinking furiously at the oar propped against the far wall.

  Maggie eased beside her, speaking quietly. “Can ye grab Irene a quilt from the nursery in the first bedroom?” She pointed to the hallway. “It’s that way. Take yere time.”

  Sadie left her uneaten sandwich and hurried away, hoping the few who remained hadn’t seen. She slipped into the bedroom with a crib set up in the corner. She grabbed a tissue from the dresser top and quietly shut the door, taking a minute to pull her erratic emotions together. She wiped the first tear away and blew her nose.

  She missed Gigi so much. Would these gut-wrenching moments ever end?

  But the truth of it settled into her—the guilt—the fact that Sadie couldn’t go back and undo what she’d done. Her heart, her brain, her whole being screamed with if onlys. If only she hadn’t longed for more than plaque-filled mouths to fill her time. If only the graduate school application hadn’t been due that day. But the biggest if only would have been the easiest to change . . . if only she had picked up the fabric at the quilt shop like Gigi had asked, then her beloved grandmother wouldn’t be dead.

  * * *

  Out at sea, Ross stood at the bow as he and John made their way back to Gandiegow. Ross’s best ideas came to him while he was on the water with nothing between him, the wind, and his Maker. He glanced at the wooden cross hanging on the mast, knowing the Almighty had a hand in everything when it came to fishing. The weather belonged to Him, the catch, and whatever good ideas a fisherman had on the ocean. Today was no different.

  A helluva plan was forming as the town came into sight and Ross glanced heavenward with a nod of thanks. It would work. When they reached the dock, he stepped off and moored the Indwaller, the family fishing boat.

  The moment the boat was secure, he waved to John. “I’m off.”

  John nodded and went back to his logbooks inside the wheelhouse.

  Ross had been around the quilters of Gandiegow for his whole life, and knew that when they were stitching they were either gabbing about the townsfolk, or were comparing notes about the books that they were reading. A quilting book club as it were. Cait and Graham kept a pretty extensive library at the mansion up on the hill, and Deydie and the rest of the women had read most of the novels there. Maybe it was time to bring the books a little closer to the center of town, to provide better access for the villagers and retreat goers alike without the hike up the bluff.

  A library at Quilting Central.

  And the perfect person to take on the project was back at his cottage, fixing a tear in his shirt . . . well, John’s shirt. But before Ross could do anything, he’d have to run it past Deydie, not a prospect he was looking forward to.

  First he headed home to check on Sadie. It had been hours since he’d left her alone with his sister-in-law. At the cottage door, he heard female voices within. When he stepped inside, he found the house scattered with women. But none of them were Sadie. Maggie stood in the kitchen pouring tea into mugs and Emma and Claire were passing around boxes of scones.

  “What’s going on here?” He took the cup Maggie offered. “Where’s Sadie?”

  Emma handed him a plate with two blueberry scones. “She had to go to the surgery.”

  Panic washed through him. “Is she all right?” He didn’t mean to raise his voice.

  Emma lifted an eyebrow as if to question what he was about, but she answered him calmly. “Gabriel is giving her a hypodermic.”

  All eyes were on him, the packed room quiet.

  He revised his question, directing it at Maggie. “What I meant was, after I left, was everything okay here at the cottage?”

  Maggie’s eyebrows pinched together. “Yes and no.”

  She explained what had happened with Sadie and the scissors. “It was thoughtless of me,” she said, finishing. “I should’ve anticipated it. Every gran in the world has owned a pair of Wiss scissors.”

  “Nay.” Ross took a quick sip of his tea. “I think it’s good for her.” If only her kidneys could be fixed with the shedding of a few tears.

  Emma wrapped her arm around Maggie’s shoulders. “Ross is correct. Sadie has to travel through her grief. There are no shortcuts to the other side. Things that remind her of her grandmother will make her weep now, but someday, those same things will make her smile. You’ll see.”

  Maggie nodded as if remembering how it had been for her.

  The women went back to chatting among themselves. Ross gulped down the rest of his tea and took his scones to his room. He changed quickly and within a few minutes was headed to Quilting Central, wondering if he would see Sadie on his way. He didn’t.

  Inside the building, Bethia was showing the transfixed retreat goers how to construct a particular block. Ross glanced around the room, found the perfect corner for the library, and headed for it.

  Mentally, he sized up the area. Shelves could angle into the corner, making a V. He imagined a small desk and a chair with Sadie manning the catalog. But there probably wouldn’t be enough books to make that necessary.

  “What are ye doing?” Deydie said, making him jump.

  “You can be stealthy when ye want to be,” he said.

  She eyed him closely. “What’s on yere mind?”

  “Have you ever thought of putting a library in this corner?” he said quietly so as not to interfere with the instruction going on.

  Deydie pointed to the far wall where quilting books lined several shelves. “We have a library.”

  “I mean novels. It could be another feature for the Kilts and Quilts retreat. The quilters could grab a novel to cozy up with at night.”

  Deydie’s face squished up as if she was mulling over the idea. After a moment, she stepped closer. “And what’s yere interest in this supposed library?”

  He could’ve given her a line about how every Gandiegowan was affected by the Kilts and Quilts retreat, but he told the truth instead. “I thought we might entice Sadie back to Quilting Central by asking her to set up a library here.”

  Deydie harrumphed. “We nothing. I’ll talk to the lass.” She eyed him suspiciously “Ye say that ye don’t, yet ye sure act like ye have some feelings for the lass.”

  “I’m only being a good Samaritan.” But the words rang hollow so he tried teasing—one of his younger brother Ramsay’s tactics—to get the old woman off his scent. “I want to go to heaven one day. Best to begin doing some good deeds now, don’t ye think?”

  The old witch just stared at him as if she could read his true motives. Whatever they were.

  Ross threw his hands up in frustration. “The library is just an idea.” Not a marriage proposal.

  Deydie nodded. “Aye. It’s a good idea. I’m just surprised it came from ye, is all.” She waddled away, but stopped after a few feet, cranking her head over her shoulder. “I’ll take care of it from here. Do ye ken?”

  “Aye.” He’d stay out of it.

  He took a deep breath. If only he could.

  * * *

  When Sadie returned to Ross’s house, this time with little Angus in her arms, she saw that thankfully the quilters were nearly cleared from the premises.

  Emma put down her English paper piecing and stretched out her arms for her child. “So someone decided to wake up?” The boy squealed as she took him. She held him on her lap while undoing the clasp of her nursing bra. She settled him to her breast, modestly adjusting the folds of her blouse. “Thank you for bringing him over, Sadie. Maggie and I had so much planning to do for the céilidh after Moira’s wedding.”

  “What’s a kay-lee?” Sadie ask
ed, feeling a bit stupid.

  “A céilidh is a dance and celebration. We were meant to have one at the summer solstice, but the weather prevented it.” Emma winked at her. “Scots drinking during bad weather is not a wise idea.”

  “The waves were splashing over the walkway at the solstice,” Maggie added from the kitchen where she was fussing with the roaster. “Everyone had to stay indoors and batten down the shutters.”

  The heavy-duty shutters with locks on the outside of the windows were hard to miss.

  Just as Sadie sat down at her machine and picked up the next chair pocket to work on, there was a brief rap at the door, and Deydie and Bethia came bustling in.

  “We’re just taking a break from Quilting Central,” Deydie announced.

  But Sadie didn’t believe her. And no more than five seconds later, Deydie spun on her directly. “I’m needing yere help, lass. I hear ye know books, like novels and such.”

  “Did Oliver tell you that?” Of course Oliver told her. What hasn’t he blabbed?

  “Quilting Central needs a library. I’ve decided that ye’re going to make us one.” As an afterthought, Deydie added, “Quilters are avid readers. Did ye know that?”

  Sadie was living proof. Besides reading, she loved to listen to audiobooks while she was behind her machine. She chose more fabric and stitched the next seam, mulling over what Deydie had said.

  “I thought if ye weren’t up to quilting with us that the least ye could do was to help me with the library.”

  Why couldn’t this woman leave Sadie alone? What about all the chair pockets she’d been assigned?

  Bethia moved closer, examining Sadie’s stitches, and said in a much gentler voice, “It wouldn’t take much of yere time. Do ye mind very much?”

  Sadie finished the seam, lifted the presser foot, and shut off her machine. “What are we talking about specifically? Do you want me to make a list of books I think your quilters would like?”

  Irene started fussing, and to Sadie’s surprise, Deydie reached for her and took her in her arms. As the baby cuddled against her massive bosom, the expression on the old woman’s face turned soft, maternal. She maneuvered the baby to her shoulder like an expert, patting her back gently.