I was still sore from my crawl to the surface from the cellar of the shed and I was struggling to find something to wear for the wedding. I’d started by borrowing a dress from Louisa. A green chiffon that fell from the shoulders without clinging to my waist or sides. I tried it on and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked as if I was wearing a maternity dress.
I ripped the gown off over my head and threw it to the floor. The bandages that covered my stomach and left side didn’t hide the faint shrapnel scar that ran down my right hip. A souvenir from darker days in the Middle East. The outward wound had healed remarkably well, but the internal damage remained. There would be no maternity clothing for me. It was a door that was slammed shut by the shards of metal that embedded themselves in my pelvis so many years ago.
In the years since then, I’d convinced myself that it didn’t matter. I’d never had much of a rapport with kids, being an only child myself, and besides, my job didn’t lend itself to finding nice stable men and settling down. It was just fine. Kids were entirely optional and it just wasn’t for me, so why was I crying?
Because I was standing on the brink of a relationship that, for the first time in my life, I could envision being long-term. A relationship with a good man who loved children and, by getting involved with me, would be denied that pleasure. Would he eventually grow to resent me or at least our circumstances? I was bringing so much baggage into this affair. We’d have to talk about it, but I couldn’t face it just yet. It was too soon.
In the end, I’d settled on a navy blue dress of stretchy fabric that at least moved with me. Louisa loaned me a hat in bright pink with a small veil. I felt ridiculous, but at least I didn’t look as bad as Katherine and her fellow bridesmaids. The lavish fluffs of pale pink tulle gave them each the appearance of balls of candyfloss.
The day of the wedding dawned clear and bright. Brenna was gone, but her floral legacy was spectacular. Banks of white roses and lily of the valley spilled out all over the church and everyone in the village was there, dressed in their best. Liam looked quite smart wearing booties because of the burns that were healing on his paws. He was there to give moral support to his friend Sampson, and he settled down in the aisle next to Grant and Nora. Sampson wore a black bow tie around his neck with the wedding rings tucked into a small pouch in the rear. He walked into the church with dignity, looking neither right nor left. Reverend Craig handed me his leash and the two of us sat in the front row waiting for our turn to participate.
Fiona, on the arm of her father, arrived at the door of the church positively incandescent with joy. And the look on Reverend Craig’s face as she made her way down the aisle was enough to bring a tear even to my jaded eye. It was a touching ceremony. Long, but touching. As the sound of the bagpipes faded away, the crowd made a break for the reception and a much-needed drink.
I came to sit with Amanda and Sheila at a table under the tent in the garden. Nora joined us, bringing over a plate of mini meat pies and sausage rolls to tempt us. She sat down next to her mother and rested her head on her shoulder. It made me so happy to see the two of them together and at peace.
“Did you tell them our news yet?” Nora prompted her mum.
The two of us turned expectantly to Sheila, who looked a bit flustered. “Well, I was hoping to talk to Amanda about this, not just tell her,” Sheila scolded gently.
“Go on,” Amanda said. “Is it something good?”
The smile on Nora’s face said it was.
“Shiobhan, the woman who runs the pub, is looking for a cook and someone to help out in the new inn. She’s offered me the job and—”
“That’s wonderful,” Amanda said without hesitation. “Don’t you go fretting about me. I’ll miss you, of course, but this is the perfect place for the two of you to start fresh.”
“Have you found a place to stay yet?” I asked.
“Mr. MacEwen says there’s a cottage on the estate coming available in the next few weeks. He’s told us we can have it for as long as we need.” Sheila teared up. “I just can’t believe how kind everyone has been. We’re strangers here.”
“Not anymore,” I said. “You’re now a part of the Balfour family. Welcome aboard.”
I looked across the room and caught sight of Patrick looking a bit like a pirate with his arm in a sling and a black bandage set at a jaunty angle above his eye. He was standing by the bar with his chef, Gordon, discussing the relative merits of two different Abbey Glen expressions. Although the police found that several local restaurants were helping to distribute Colin’s wares, La Mer was not one of them. Patrick was relieved and, in the wake of his recent brush with mortality, he’d taken the plunge and invited Gordon to be his plus one for the wedding.
I joined the two at the bar and received a warm embrace from them both.
“Patrick’s promised me a seat at the next sold-out Masterclass,” Gordon said, beaming. “I think we’re going to have to expand our Abbey Glen offerings at La Mer. Maybe even do a whisky pairing event.”
“That would be wonderful. How are things at the restaurant? I hope the police presence hasn’t been bad for business.”
“We were all shocked about Colin, but in the end we’ve done nothing wrong and we’ve had some exposure on the nightly news. It may have bothered some people, but we still had a fifteen percent increase in requests for tables this weekend.”
“How did you manage to get away?”
“I’ve hired a new sous-chef. She’s great, and I really need to get a bit of time to myself now and again.” Gordon smiled at Patrick.
I left the two of them and continued to circulate around the room before retreating to the corner where Liam lay sprawled on the floor in a food coma. I stood looking out over the crowd of familiar faces. Hunter making his way through the food, sampling everything, his wife, Mary, giving him a playful swat. Trish, in a lime green floral, waved from the other side of the room where she was chatting up one of the local lads. Fiona and Craig seated at the head table like royalty, reveling in the magic of their day.
Grant entered the tent carrying another case of wine for the bartender. He delivered his load and joined me, dropping a light kiss on my lips.
I looked around nervously. “Are you ready to go public with this?” I asked.
He gave me a slow, lazy smile that turned my knees to water. “Aye, lass. Won’t be a soul that doesn’t know by tomorrow, and that suits me. Less explaining to do.”
Grant was right—there were no secrets in a village this size and this was a very public place to unveil our new status.
The music shifted to a slower beat and Grant led me out onto the floor.
“This isn’t going to be easy,” I said.
A faint smile danced around the corners of Grant’s mouth. “I never thought it would be.”
“I’ve been alone for so long, I’m really no good at being considerate and thoughtful,” I pointed out.
Grant raised an eyebrow as he looked down at me, his eyes like flashing emeralds. “You trying to talk me out of this?”
I smiled. “No, I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting into.”
“I have a very good idea, and I think I can take it.”
I placed my hand on the back of his neck, drawing his lips down to mine. “Then here we go,” I murmured.