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For Betty MacLeod’s ninety-fifth birthday, she decided she didn’t want a party. She wanted a wake. It had always seemed crazy to Betty that the biggest party of her life would happen after she died, so she decided to have it before then so she could attend and hear what people had to say about her.
“I don’t know why we’re indulging her,” Kirsty told her husband. “This is one of the crazier ideas she’s had over the years.”
Lake Benson pulled up the formal white socks that went with traditional Scottish dress and smiled at his wife. Almost nine years he’d had her in his life and every single minute of those years had been perfect because she was in it.
“She’s ninety-five. It’s a party. I don’t see the problem.”
“You wouldn’t. You’ve done nothing but indulge her since the day you met her.” She pointed at him. “Look at you. You’re wearing a MacLeod tartan kilt when you’re an Englishman. You pander to her. And who has a big bash for their ninety-fifth birthday, anyway? Why didn’t she do something for her ninetieth like a normal person? Or better yet, wait until she turns one hundred?”
Lake didn’t think it was the time to point out that there was nothing normal about his pet Hobbit. “She wants a party before she dies.”
Kirsty scoffed at that. “She isn’t going to die. Demons don’t die, they just get more shrivelled and evil.”
“I’ll make sure to put that in my eulogy.”
“You do that.”
After almost a decade, Lake had given up on Kirsty and Betty getting on with each other. At best they had an uneasy truce.
“I do like you in a kilt, Lake Benson,” Kirsty said.
“Even if it isn’t Campbell tartan?” he teased.
“I’ll overlook it this once.”
He fought a smile as he watched his wife’s eyes heat at the sight of him in the offensive kilt. Lake had to fight the urge to forgo the party and get his wife into bed. Kirsty blinked out of her daze and smoothed down the formfitting silk sheath she wore, which just happened to be the exact same blue as the kilt he had on. Yeah, his wife might talk a good game, but she was completely soft-hearted. It was just one of the things he adored about her.
He watched as she fitted the drop diamond earrings he’d gotten her last Christmas to her lobes. The global success of Benson Security meant he could spoil her whenever the feeling took him. And it took him quite often.
“How do I look?” Kirsty turned to him and waited for his assessment.
Her long red hair sat about her shoulders in soft waves. Lake loved her hair. It was the colour of fire and warmth. It symbolised everything she meant to him—passion and home. He also loved the scars on her shoulder and neck that she didn’t try to hide anymore. They’d silvered over the years, but were still a visible reminder of the car crash that almost took her life and ended her modelling career. It was also a reminder that his Kirsty was a fighter, a survivor. Every time he noticed the scars, he felt a surge of pride at how she’d fought past the accident that changed her life. She’d taken her experience as a lingerie model and transferred it to design, becoming one of the most popular lingerie brands in the UK.
“He’s doing it again,” came the stage whisper from the door. “That yucky, dopey look.”
Lake looked over at his eldest daughter and grinned.
“Uh-huh.” His youngest nodded her agreement.
Lake pretended to frown at them and they giggled. They were gorgeous in their matching blue tartan dresses with big blue bows in their jet-black hair.
“Oh, Grace.” Kirsty knelt before their youngest. “You have chocolate all over your face.” She produced a wet wipe from thin air and proceeded to clean the smiling face.
“The cake fell into my mouth, Mummy,” the five-year-old terror said. “It wasn’t my fault.”
Her six-year-old sister was wide-eyed with matching innocence and Lake suspected that the cake had fallen into her mouth too. She was just better at hiding the evidence. Lexie came over and lifted her arms to Lake, who promptly picked her up. She put her arms around his neck and smiled at him. Lexie was definitely a daddy’s girl. She’d been that way ever since they’d picked her up from the orphanage in China five years earlier. A year later they’d made the trip again, this time coming home with Grace. As far as Lake was concerned, he’d picked the two most perfect kids in the world.
“I want hair like Mummy,” Lexie told him.
“When you’re older you can dye it any colour you like,” he said.
“Lake!” Kirsty stood and took Grace’s hand. “Lexie’s hair is perfect as it is.”
He looked at his eldest with her long, straight black hair. It was perfect. It was also just hair.
“What’s the big deal? It’s hair. It grows. Nothing she does will be permanent.”
“She’s six,” Kirsty said, like it was a reprimand.
Lake looked at his daughter. “Oh no, I thought you were sixty-five.”
She started giggling and held him tighter. Kirsty shook her head at them.
Grace tugged on her mum’s hand and Kirsty looked down at their baby. “Will there be cake at the party?”
“I think you’ve had enough cake, don’t you?” Kirsty said.
Grace shook her head vehemently.
“There will definitely be pies,” Lake said.
Lexie nodded. “Satan likes pies.”
“Lexie!” Kirsty glared at their daughter as Lake tried not to laugh. “What did we talk about? We don’t call Betty Satan.”
Lexie pouted, but Lake knew it was fake. The tiny devil liked getting a rise out of her mother. “Everybody calls her Satan.”
“I don’t care what everybody does. You don’t call her that. Are we clear?”
“Yes, Mummy.” Lexie looked appropriately contrite and would have pulled it off too if she hadn’t cut it short by winking at Lake.
“Monsters,” Kirsty said in exasperation, but there was love and humour in her voice. She looked over at Lake. “We all ready, then?”
He nodded, and Kirsty grabbed her bag from the dresser. “Then let’s get this over with.”
She took Grace’s hand and they headed down the stairs of their waterside home to the front door.
“This is going to be awful,” Kirsty said.
“No, it won’t.” Lake rounded their SUV and put Lexie in her booster seat. “Caroline’s organising it. It will be fine.”
“Poor Caroline.” Kirsty secured Grace into her car seat. “We’ve been best friends most of our lives and I still don’t know how she manages to do everything she does.”
“Yep.” Lake climbed into the driver’s seat. “She’s formidable, all right. Good job she has Josh to loosen her up.”
Kirsty started giggling. “As I said, poor Caroline.”
*****
Caroline McInnes was about ten seconds away from strangling her husband and burying his body on castle grounds. Honestly, no one would blame her.
“I want to wear a suit,” the infuriating man whined. “I’m known for my suits. Or my tees. I don’t want to wear a skirt.”
“Josh McInnes, sometimes it is very hard to believe that you are in your forties. You behave like a child.”
“I’m barely in my forties,” Josh said. “I’ve only just scraped in.”
“Hey,” Jessica called from her spot at the kitchen table where she was waiting impatiently. “I don’t behave like him.” The eight-year-old pointed at her dad.
“Good point,” Caroline told her eldest before turning back to Josh. “You’re worse than a child. It isn’t a skirt. It’s a kilt. Men in Scotland have been wearing them for hundreds of years. You can wear one for one day.”
“Can’t I at least wear the skirt with my vintage Mickey Mouse t-shirt? I need something American.”
Caroline stared at him. She knew he argued like this deliberately. It entertained him, and normally she’d indulge his sick sense of humour, but not right now. Not when there were last-minute details to oversee to ensure Betty’s wake ran smoothly.
Caroline pushed her shoulders back and stared at Josh. “You will wear Scottish dress. You will sing at the wake and you will stop annoying me. I don’t have time to deal with you. I have things to do.”
At once his face softened and that mischievous glint in his eye disappeared. He stepped into her and wrapped his arms around her until she was tight against him, her head on his chest.
“Sorry, baby. I’ll stop being funny.” He caressed her back, and she felt herself melt.
“That would be appreciated.”
“You know,” Josh said, “you didn’t have to take on organising this party. You have more than enough to do with joint-managing my career with Mitch, running the Christmas festival and being on the town’s council. Plus, there are the kids. The kids are a lot of work.”
Jessica barked out a laugh. “Not as much as you are, Dad.”
“Not helping, princess,” Josh said. “I’m trying to reassure your mom.” He looked down at Caroline. “How am I doing?”
“Great.” She patted his chest and went on tiptoes for a kiss. “I just want this day to be perfect for Betty.”
His lips were soft and just the touch of them made Caroline melt. He was her addiction. One she never wanted to recover from.
“I don’t see why,” Josh said when he pulled back from her. “She’s evil. She doesn’t deserve a party.”
“She’s Betty.” Caroline sighed and stepped back from her husband. “She’s a town institution.”
“She should be in an institution,” Josh muttered.
She was about to tell him off when their son, Jack, ran through the kitchen wearing his tiny kilt and waving a toy lightsaber. He was chased by their Labrador, who was dressed in Josh’s Mickey Mouse t-shirt.
“I am going to kill that kid,” Josh said and ran after the dog.
Jack started giggling hysterically as he made it into the conservatory. A game of chase began as Josh, Jack and the dog circled the furniture—both the dog and Josh had big, sloppy grins on their faces.
Caroline turned to her eldest. “You were the one who dressed the dog, weren’t you?”
Jessica shrugged. “You didn’t want him to wear that t-shirt. Problem solved.”
Sometimes Caroline wondered if Jessica was eight going on thirty. Still, she wrapped an arm around her and kissed her head.
“Love you, darling,” she told her girl.
“I know.” Jessica smiled smugly and Caroline noticed that she was working on an organisational chart for her Barbies. Jessica was definitely her mother’s daughter.
“Right, we need to go,” Caroline announced as she picked up their toddler from the playpen in the corner of the room. Two-year-old Jonathan was her perfect child. He always had a smile, he slept beautifully and he never cried.
As Caroline smiled down at him, she wondered if baby number four was going to be a girl. She glanced at her husband, who’d announced he was done having kids after baby number three, and wondered when would be the best time to tell him he was going to be a father again.
Josh sauntered into the kitchen with his son under his arm like a rugby ball. Five-year-old Jack was swinging his lightsaber at the dog.
“We need to go,” Caroline said again.
“I thought we were waiting for Mitch,” Josh said.
“They sent a text. They’re running late and they still have to pick Betty up.”
“Late! They’re playing hide the salami while I have to wear a dress. At least he’ll pay for his fun by spending extra time with Satan.”
Caroline smacked him on his hard abs. “Josh!”
“What’s hide the salami?” Jack asked from under Josh’s arm.
Caroline folded her arms and tapped her toe as she mentally challenged her husband to get out of this one. Josh, as usual, was totally unfazed.
“I said hide for the tsunami,” he said. “It’s when you practice safety drills in case the town gets hit by a big wave.”
Jack nodded. “I knew that.”
“Uncle Mitch is very safety conscious,” Josh added.
“Aunt Jodie is going to teach me to beat up boys,” Jessica announced as they headed out of the castle.
“Fantastic,” Josh said as Caroline groaned.
Just what she needed—more violence in her house.
“I need the experience,” Jessica said, “for when my brothers get older. Aunt Jodie said every time her brother annoyed her, she’d just hit him. I’m going to do that too.”
“No you’re not.” Caroline looked at Josh for support, but he seemed impressed with Jessica’s plans, so no help there. “You can’t beat up your brothers whenever you like.”
“How about sometimes?” Jessica asked. “Like when they’re really annoying.”
“No.”
Josh leaned into his daughter and whispered loud enough for Caroline to hear, “I’ll work on your mom if you promise never to use what you learn on me.”
“I can’t promise that.” Jessica rolled her eyes dramatically. “You heard Mom. You’re more trouble than all of us.”
Josh was laughing as he fitted their children into the car. As Caroline took her seat, she pulled out her phone and texted Deke to make sure everything was okay with the food. There had almost been a war over who would cater the party, but Caroline had solved it by letting the spa restaurant do the food and letting Dougal at the pub play host. Although Dougal was still a bit put out that there would be someone else’s food served in his pub. She made a note to soothe him when they arrived at the wake.
“Mitch is right,” Josh said as he climbed into the driver’s seat. “Give you a smartphone and you can rule the world.”
“Girl power!” Jessica shouted and Jack hit her on the head with his lightsaber.
As Josh refereed the kids, Caroline felt warmth overtake her at the sight. This had been her dream. A family of her own to love and care for and boss around. She never thought she’d have it. At one time she’d been the cold spinster of Invertary. Too scary for men to date and too plain to attract much romantic attention. Then Josh, with his crazy idea of arranging a non-romantic marriage, arrived in town and picked her. He’d told her that he hadn’t meant to fall for her, but he couldn’t resist. And then he’d spent every day since he proposed showing her just how much he did love her.
If Caroline sometimes smiled smugly at the men in town who hadn’t wanted her, she could be forgiven. Because Josh McInnes, world-famous singer, had seen past the grey suits and need for control, to the woman inside who desperately wanted to feel loved.
“You’re thinking about marrying me again, aren’t you?” Josh said as turned the engine on.
“How did you know?”
“You get that dreamy look on your face and then about half an hour later, I get lucky.” He grinned at her. “Keep thinking about the time I swept you off your feet. I like it.”
“Idiot.” Caroline reached for his hand and held it tight.
“Your idiot, baby. All yours.”
And she wouldn’t have it any other way.
*****
“Really?” Dougal said from behind Deke’s shoulder. “You’re serving salmon appetisers for a buffet? Don’t you think that’s a little over the top? I mean, the woman has asked for an assortment of beef pies and custard slices for the buffet table.”
Deke gritted his teeth and counted to ten. Again. It wasn’t helping. His wife gave him a sympathetic look before taking Dougal’s arm.
“Dougal, have a told you yet how much I love that waistcoat you’re wearing?” Brenda said as she walked the man out of the kitchen. “Wherever do you get your clothes? I’d love to get something like that for Deke. Although he wouldn’t look as stunning in it as you do. You have a certain flair for fashion that’s sorely lacking in Invertary...”
Deke grinned after her. She was a complete force of nature. Dougal didn’t stand a chance against her.
“There’s nothing wrong with that salmon,” Alastair Stewart said. “I caught it myself.”
Once his father had retired, the award-winning fisherman had come back to town to run the fishing tackle shop they’d co-owned. In the three years they’d been back, Rainne had qualified as an accountant and set up on her own. It amazed Deke how little she looked like an accountant. She wore ankle-length tie-dye dresses most of the time and her hair had rainbow-coloured streaks through it.
“I don’t think it’s the fish he has issue with; it’s the fact Deke is in his kitchen.” Rainne appeased her husband by rubbing his back.
“Damn straight it isn’t the fish.” Alastair nodded.
Brenda came back into the room and stood up on tiptoes to kiss Deke. “Margaret has taken over Dougal watch.”
“Good.” Let Dougal’s wife deal with him.
“Is anyone else here still suffering from shock at Margaret Campbell marrying Dougal?” Alastair said.
The couple had only been married a few months and the town was still reeling.
“I thought he was gay,” Rainne said. “The clothes, you know? I don’t think even Elton John has that much glitter and gold lamé in his wardrobe.”
Brenda climbed up on a barstool that Deke had dragged into the kitchen for her and leaned on the stainless steel counter. He would have been so much happier if his very pregnant wife had stayed home instead of partying it up at the Scottie Dog. She was overdue by about a week, but everyone kept telling him that was normal for first babies. Deke didn’t think anything about this was normal. She was making a child. His child. She should have been in bed. He should have chained her to the damn thing until the baby came.
“Take a deep breath, honey,” Brenda said. “Everything is going to be fine.”
Deke pointed a knife at her. “If you have that baby in this pub, I’m going to paddle your backside.”
“Promises, promises.” The siren winked at him before turning back to Rainne. “I heard that Dougal has slept with most of the women in Knit or Die.”
“No.” Rainne’s jaw dropped. “That is deeply disturbing.”
“I know,” Brenda said with a grin.
The swinging door pushed open and Deke’s shoulders tensed at the thought of dealing with more of Dougal’s rubbish. He was relieved to see it was only Alastair and Rainne’s son George.
“What is it, sweetie?” Rainne knelt down and brushed the boy’s long brown hair behind his ear.
“Somebody woke Susan.” His eyes were wide with false innocence, making it clear that the someone who’d woken his baby sister was definitely him.
“Okay.” Rainne sighed and stood, holding out a hand for her toddler son. “Let’s go get the baby, then.” She grinned back at her husband. “It was too good to last anyway.”
“That kid only sleeps for fifteen minutes at a time,” Alastair told them. “It’s driving me insane.”
“I can’t wait.” Brenda beamed at them as she rubbed her massive belly.
In that moment, Deke wished it was only the two of them, snuggling on the couch. He’d wrap his arm around her and kiss her hair before he pulled a blanket over her legs and put on her favourite TV show for her. Yeah, he wished he was home alone with his wife and not catering a meal for the wicked witch of the Highlands.
“You are going to love it,” Alastair said. “There’s nothing like having kids. It’s equal parts heaven and hell. Sometimes both at the same time. And”—he grinned—“it could be worse. You could be having twins. Every time I start feeling sorry for myself at my exhausted state, I think of the Donaldson/Boyle clan and life is suddenly much better.”
The three of them shared a look before bursting out laughing.
*****
“Why did we have kids?” Abby Boyle asked her husband, Flynn, for what seemed like the millionth time, as she looked out their bedroom window onto the large paddock that made up most of their backyard.
“Because you can’t keep off of me and my swimmers are too strong for standard contraception,” Flynn said.
“Well, one of your swimmers just cracked an ostrich egg on the goat’s horns.”
“What?” Flynn jumped to his feet from where he’d been sitting on the bed, pulling on his shoes. “Bloody Fergus. He’s supposed to be the smart one.”
“You need to go get him cleaned up while I finish getting ready,” Abby said as she watched the goat run around the garden, spreading egg everywhere. “Thank goodness I haven’t put him in his party clothes yet.”
“I told the kids not to touch the eggs.” Flynn pulled on his other shoe.
“And I told you not to bring home any more unwanted animals, but you still keep turning up with something in tow.” She pointed to the rabbit hutch compound in the corner of the yard. Flynn’s latest addition to their menagerie.
“To be fair,” Flynn said, “technically we already had rabbits. Wild ones. I just added a few more.”
“Well, seeing as at least three of them are pregnant, that few is going to turn into hundreds.”
“I’ll find homes for them,” Flynn promised.
“You said that about the goat.” She pointed out the window to the rabid animal that was currently being chased by their son. At least in Fergus, the goat had met his match. “And the alpacas, and the donkeys, and the ostriches, and the sheep, and the blind dog, and the two feral cats, and the hedgehogs, and...”
Flynn stood in front of her and wrapped his arms tight around her waist. “Have I told you how gorgeous you look in this dress?”
It was a blue silk Chanel shift dress that her mother had brought her back from Paris. Her mother had great taste in clothes and a deep need to make up for years of estrangement from Abby by shopping for her every chance she got. It was something Abby had brought up with Victoria on several occasions, until Victoria’s husband Lawrence had taken Abby aside and explained that shopping made her mother happy, and it would be best if Abby just accepted the gifts graciously. So that’s what Abby did, but she also made sure her mother knew she was welcome and loved even if she didn’t always come bearing gifts. They had a lot of years to make up for, years where Abby’s grandmother had kept them apart, and neither one of them wanted anything to get in the way of that.
Flynn nuzzled the spot on Abby’s neck that made her knees go weak. “How about we lock the door and steal five minutes with you, me and that dress, before we go to this thing?”
Abby’s fingers dug into Flynn’s arms. She was tempted, oh so tempted. Tempted enough to ignore the fact her three-year-old was covered in raw egg and chasing a goat in his bare feet.
“Don’t you want me to make you feel good, baby? I can take away your stress,” he whispered against her lips, and Abby felt what little resolve she had left weaken.
“Dad!” The shout made the house vibrate.
“Damn it,” Flynn muttered, and stepped away from his wife. “What?” he shouted back to their eldest daughter.
“The twins are riding the horses again,” twelve-year-old Katy shouted back. “Without saddles!”
“That’s it.” Flynn stomped towards the door. “I’m buying a cage and I’m putting them all in it. If I’d known how hard it was to have a sex life while parenting, things would have been a whole lot different around here.”
“Dad!” Katy shouted again. “Fergus threw an egg at Josie!” There was a pause as Flynn stomped down the stairs. “Oh, oh, he threw an ostrich egg at Grandma Victoria’s car.” There was another pause. “Dad! The twins are galloping!”
Abby couldn’t help it—she burst out laughing. This was life with Flynn. Chaos filled with animals, kids and a man who was too soft-hearted to turn anyone or anything away. She wouldn’t have it any other way.
Abby looked out the window as Lawrence and Flynn chased the kids around the yard—the twins were still on the miniature horses and the men’s kilts were flying as they ran. It was a wonderful sight.
With a thought, Abby opened the window and shouted down to her husband, “Flynn Boyle, you’re dealing with the egg mess. You brought the birds here; you can clean up your son.” She eyed the clock. “And you have five minutes to do it before Matt and Jena get here.”
She then stood back and watched family and animals chase each other around her yard.
*****
“Jena,” Matt snapped into the walk-in closet. “We’re going to be late. Hurry up.”
His wife’s perfect heart-shaped backside wiggled as the rest of her was rummaging around in a huge bag full of shoes.
“Does it really matter if we’re late? It’s a wake and the person it’s for isn’t even dead yet. We could turn up next year and we’d still be early.”
Matt had to admit, she had a point.
“We’re supposed to be at Flynn’s place in five minutes. Can’t you wear one of the other pairs of black shoes you own?”
Jena gasped and he knew he’d gone too far. In the eight years they’d been together, he’d learned the hard way never to comment on her shoe obsession. Now he’d gone and blown it. His wife’s back snapped straight and she spun on him. She was barefoot, but held two ridiculously high wedge sandals in her hands. She pointed one at him.
“Donald Matthew Donaldson,” she snapped, “do you think I put this outfit together, to look this fabulous, only to ruin it with the wrong shoes?”
Why did women ask questions that there was only one possible answer for?
“Of course not. I can see that only special shoes would go with a dress that amazing.” Seriously? What else was he supposed to say? Still, he hoped the shoes she held in her hands were the ones she needed.
Jena beamed at him as though he were a performing dog who’d finally mastered a particularly difficult trick. “This dress is amazing.” She ran her hand down the sparkly black fabric that clung to her hips and thighs in a tiny bandana-style skirt. The top of the dress was a baggy, blousy thing that fell off one shoulder. It emphasised every single one of her luscious curves and made her legs look a mile long.
One landmine successfully negotiated. “You know, if you hadn’t knocked down the walls in your closet, you wouldn’t have had a problem finding your shoes.” And there he went, stepping right onto another one.
“I had to knock down the wall. There wasn’t enough space for all my shoes.”
Matt pinched the bridge of his nose. It didn’t help. There was normal logic and then there was Jena logic.
“Honey, the wall you knocked through took you into the bathroom.” There was now a gaping hole where the wall above the bath used to be.
“I explained this.” Jena stepped into the wedge sandals, one at a time, holding on to the doorframe for balance. “I thought I was knocking out the part of the wall that led into the little alcove in the hallway. I misjudged, is all. Don’t worry.” She patted him on the cheek as she sauntered past and into their bedroom. “I’ll get it right next time.”
“Next time?”
He wasn’t proud that his voice came out as a desperate, high-pitched squeak. The thought of her knocking down any more walls made his head spin. The fact she hadn’t injured herself making the last hole was a miracle. She didn’t have the reputation as the most accident-prone woman in Scotland for nothing. Unfortunately, she was also DIY obsessed and worked at the local hardware store, so she had access to many, many power tools. Matt often spent nights awake with the thought of the damage she could do to herself at work.
“I thought you were done with closet expansion. I thought you were going to fix the bathroom wall and that was the end of it.”
Her golden eyes went wide. “Then where would I keep all my shoes?”
It was on the tip of his tongue to point out that she only had one pair of feet and didn’t need that many shoes. He fought the urge. There were some things that weren’t worth fighting over and his wife’s obsession with stripper shoes was one of them.
“How about you patch up the hole in the bathroom wall before you knock another one through from the closet? Can you at least do that?”
“Of course I can.” She tossed her waist-length wavy hair and gave him a look that totally disarmed him. Fighting with Jena was pointless—he rarely won. She sauntered towards him, her hips swaying as she tottered on the mile-high heels. The sight was mesmerising. The heels brought her height up so that they were almost eye to eye. She draped her arms over his shoulders.
“I know the hole in the bathroom wall is an inconvenience, but I promise to make it up to you.” That promise in that husky American accent of hers never failed to bring him to his knees.
“I am totally wrapped around your little finger, aren’t I?”
“I won’t tell anyone.” She kissed him. “Promise. Now, you go put April in the car while I finish up here.”
Matt did as he was told, even though he didn’t know what Jena still needed to do. She looked ready to go to him. Matt found their four-year-old daughter in her bedroom trying on shoes to go with her bright pink princess dress and plastic tiara. It was like looking at a miniature version of Jena, complete with matching shoe addiction. Her long, wavy, honey-coloured hair was up in a high ponytail, and if he wasn’t mistaken, she was wearing lip gloss.
“Should I wear the pink ones or the purple ones?” April pointed at the glittery flat ballet pumps scattered over the rug.
“Pink.” Matt was seriously done talking shoes. If picking one got him out of the house faster, he was all for it.
April tapped a finger to her chin as she considered the shoes and Matt wondered if he’d ever make it to the wake.
“I’m going to wear both!” She sat down and put a purple shoe on her right foot and a pink on her left.
Matt looked at the shoes, then at his daughter’s beaming face and decided she was four and could wear whatever the hell she wanted to wear.
“Let’s go.” He picked her up and snuggled her close to him, breathing in the comforting scent of baby powder and milk.
Sometimes, out of nowhere, the memory of almost losing Jena and April would hit him hard and he’d find himself holding them tighter than he normally did. Thankfully for him, both of the females in his life indulged his need to know they were safe. Even now, walking down the stairs to his home, with Jena’s hips swaying in front of him and April chatting in his arms, the past was close.
Jena had had a terrible pregnancy and an even worse birth. They’d been flown by rescue helicopter to Glasgow, where the doctors had fought to save mother and child. It was a miracle that he had the two of them. He’d always thought if anything was to happen to Jena, it would be from an accident. His heart had been in his throat every time she was on a construction site, or around anything electrical. He hadn’t for one minute thought he’d be the cause of what would almost kill her. As soon as he got word that his daughter and wife were fine, Matt had booked himself in for a vasectomy. There was no way any of them were going through that again.
Fortunately, Jena hadn’t been too mad that he’d made the decision without her. A near-death experience could make a woman particularly forgiving. It bothered him, sometimes, to think April would be an only child, but then he remembered that Flynn’s kids were just across the field and Claire’s brood were nearby in town. His girl had plenty of cousins near her age and would never be lonely. Now, if he could just wrap them in cotton wool twenty-four-seven, he’d feel a whole lot less stressed.
As they rounded the side of the house to their car, Matt spotted a very large delivery box. Jena squealed and ran over to it. Matt sauntered up behind her.
“Please tell me that isn’t more shoes.” He stared at the box with dread.
“No, it’s even better. I’m putting in a dumbwaiter!” Jena beamed at him as she waited for his excited response.
Matt felt the air get sucked out of his lungs. “You’re going to cut holes in the floors?”
She nodded enthusiastically. “Isn’t it a great idea?”
He looked at her happy face, and then to his daughter’s answering smile, and lied. “It’s great.”
His females were chatting away as Matt walked away from the car for a minute, telling Jena honestly that he had to make a quick call.
His brother-in-law, Grunt, picked up on the second ring.
“Yo.”
“I need a pick-up,” Matt said. “The box is beside the garage door.”
“Done.” Grunt hung up and Matt smiled.
It wouldn’t be the first time Jena’s DIY projects mysteriously disappeared and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Smiling, he headed to the car, making a mental note to buy his brother-in-law some beer to thank him for helping out, again.
*****
“Who was that, baby?”
Claire ran her hand down Grunt’s arm as he tucked his phone back into his sporran. Yeah, he’d just said the word sporran. Okay, so it was in his head, but it was still damn disturbing. The fact he was wearing one was even more so.
“Matt,” Grunt told his wife.
“Matt needs another DIY project to disappear?”
Grunt grunted.
Claire shook her head. “Poor Jena.”
“Poor Jena nothing,” Dimitri Raast, Grunt’s brother-in-law and fellow American, said. “That woman needs a keeper. She’s lucky she’s got Matt.”
“No kidding.” Claire’s twin sister Megan scooped up a rice cracker full of dip from the kitchen counter. “She’s lucky she’s married to the town cop. She would have been locked up years ago if she didn’t have connections.”
Claire snorted. “Like being married to big brother makes a difference. How many times did he lock us up because we annoyed him?”
“Yeah, but we couldn’t sleep our way out of trouble,” Megan said.
The twins looked at each other, scrunched up their noses and said “ew” at the same time. Grunt caught Dimitri’s eye and saw amusement.
“Where you two off to next?” Grunt said.
Dimitri and Megan worked for Benson Security’s London office and for the past few years had built a reputation as bodyguards. They always worked the same job together and it took them all over the world.
“Australia,” Dimitri said. “Some star needs a babysitter while he shoots his new movie.”
“So glamorous,” Claire said on a sigh.
Grunt hooked a hand on the back of her neck and pulled her to him. He knew his wife, she might sound envious, but she was a homebody. She had no desire to travel the globe like her sister. As she kept telling him, she had everything she ever wanted right here in Invertary. And Grunt was going to make sure it stayed that way.
“Not so glamorous standing around all day watching people. It gets dull,” Megan said. “But we’re going to dive the Great Barrier Reef this time, so that will be cool.”
“I thought you were going to start a family, so our kids could grow up together this time.” Claire patted her round belly.
Megan’s face was soft when she looked at her sister. “Honey, you’re producing enough family for all of us.” She looked up at Dimitri and her eyes went dark. “We’ll get there, but we aren’t ready yet.”
Grunt figured Dimitri was a whole lot closer to ready than his younger wife, but like him, Dimitri would give his woman whatever she wanted.
Claire tugged her bottom lip between her teeth. “Do you think it’s weird that we’re having so many kids?” Her eyes filled with tears as she looked at her sister.
Grunt felt the growl bubble out of him at the sight. “Don’t upset your sister,” he barked at Megan.
Megan rolled her eyes. “Calm down, King Kong. It isn’t me. It’s hormones.” Her face lit up. “That means it’s your fault. If you would stop knocking her up, she’d turn back into a normal, balanced human being.”
Grunt growled again.
“Knock it off,” Dimitri told him. “We need to get to the pub. You can have your annual fight with Megan once this party is over.”
“It isn’t a party,” Claire said tremulously. “It’s a wake. The purpose is to celebrate Betty’s life.”
“I, for one,” Megan said, “think that should happen when she’s not around to ruin it.”
Grunt pointed at his sister-in-law. “What she said.”
“Yeah, well, whatever you think about it, we’re on duty, so we need to get going.” Dimitri grabbed his wife’s hand and pulled her off the stool.
“Why does a ninety-five-year-old woman need a security team at her wake?” Megan said.
“I don’t think the team are there to protect Betty from attack. I think they’re there to protect the crowd from Betty,” Claire said.
“And to search for weapons.” Grunt was all about searching for weapons. He’d even borrowed two hand-held metal detecting wands from the Benson Security office for the occasion.
“He wants to make sure Betty doesn’t bring in a stun gun,” Claire said.
“How many times has she knocked you out over the years?” Megan asked with an evil smile. She knew exactly how many.
When Grunt didn’t answer, Dimitri did it for him. “Six.”
They burst out laughing. Claire snuggled into his side and patted his stomach. “Honey bun, if you showed her your penis, she’d stop zapping you with a stun gun.”
“There is so much that is wrong with that sentence,” Megan said.
Grunt wrapped an arm around his wife. “She needs to keep away from my junk.”
“She’s just curious about the piercing,” Claire said. “I’m sure once she sees it, she’ll move on to something else.”
Grunt grunted. He was not amused. He was going to get brain damage from being zapped all the time. Not to mention falling down and waking disorientated and bruised. He’d been lucky. So far, she hadn’t managed to get him when they were alone, so there was always someone to protect his unconscious body. There were some people you really don’t want to be helpless around and Betty MacLeod headed the bill.
“Okay.” Claire patted him and pushed away. “We need to go.” She looked at her sister. “You all set?”
“As set as I will ever be.”
Without consulting each other, the twins were both dressed in nearly identical purple dresses. The only difference being that Claire’s was wider around the waist to accommodate her pregnant belly. It was uncanny the way they shared the same mind when shopping. Thankfully, they didn’t share it with everything else. Grunt was pretty sure that after ten minutes alone with Megan he’d commit murder.
“I’ll get the boys,” Claire said to him. “You get the girls.”
Grunt shook his head. “No, baby. You go to the car. Dimitri and I will get the kids.”
He kissed her nose and watched her walk her sister out to their minivan. It still amused him that he’d gone from owning a Harley to owning a minivan. And a huge one at that. It had to be huge for him to fit in it, let alone the rest of his family.
“Is this the last one?” Dimitri asked as they walked into the family room.
Grunt knew he was talking about kids. The latest scan had revealed that they were having a boy this time. A lone boy. Great news after two sets of twins.
“If she wants more, she gets more,” Grunt said, even though he thought that was obvious.
Dimitri was laughing as he shook his head. “Never thought you’d be heading up your own version of the Waltons. A biker gang, sure, a football team worth of kids, nope. I know twins run in the family. Hell, we married a set and their cousin Flynn had a set too. If you keep getting her pregnant, and she keeps having twins, you’ll end up with about twenty kids by the time you hit fifty.”
Grunt didn’t see the problem. “Claire’s a great mom.” She was perfect and he’d kill anyone who said otherwise. “She can handle the kids.”
Grunt was a traditionalist when it came to family—he did what his wife told him to do. All Claire ever wanted was to be a stay-at-home mom. Grunt saw it as his job to make sure the family were provided for and protected and that he was around to help her out. He was her support, first and foremost. In return, he got Claire. He definitely got the better end of their deal.
“Good job Lake let you buy into Benson Security,” Dimitri said. “A football team full of kids is going to cost you.”
As far as Grunt was concerned, they were worth every penny.
As Dimitri picked up his two three-year-old nieces, who were blonde miniatures of both their wives, Grunt nodded at his five-year-old boys.
“Time to go,” he said.
Liam grunted and Sam gave him a chin lift, then they headed out of the door. Grunt followed his boys as Dimitri explained to the girls that there wouldn’t be a princess at the party. As Grunt caught sight of his radiant wife laughing with her sister, only one word went through his mind.
Mine.
*****
“I don’t see why we had to pick Betty up.” Mitch knew he was whining, but he couldn’t help himself.
“Because,” Jodie said, “there are only two people on the planet that can be trusted not to turf Betty in the loch on the way to her party. That’s Lake and me.”
Mitch turned the car into Betty’s road. “Doesn’t it bother you that you’re woefully outnumbered by the people who want to off her?”
“Not particularly,” Jodie said. “If I worried about what people thought of me, I’d never have married you.”
“Funny,” Mitch said drolly.
As the car approached Betty’s house, the door opened and she came tottering out. Apart from seeming to shrink a couple of inches over the years, she looked pretty much the same as when Mitch had first met her years earlier. She was a five-foot cuboid of a woman who favoured tartan tents as dresses and had taken to wearing glittery hairnets over her non-existent hair. At least she’d stopped dying her head various colours. That was a blessing.
Mitch climbed out of the car and helped shove Betty up and into the backseat.
“Happy wake day,” Jena said.
“Thanks.” Betty rummaged around in her huge black handbag and came out with an unwrapped toffee. “Here, have a sweetie.”
“Uh, thanks?” Jodie tossed the fluff-covered sweet out the window.
They drove down from the hills on the outskirts of town, past the rows of old miners’ cottages and onto the high street. The big Presbyterian church dominated the top end of town, with its grey stones warming in the afternoon sun. The crooked houses that made up the town’s main shopping street, converted into shops and businesses, had received a new coat of white paint in recent months and gleamed brightly. They passed the first Benson Security office, Kirsty’s lingerie shop and Kirsty’s mum’s craft shop. The uneven cobblestone road made the car shake slightly as they headed to the bottom of the street and towards the loch. Today, it was a bright blue colour that enticed you to spend some time sitting at the edge of it and daydreaming away the hours.
Instead of a peaceful afternoon in the sun, Mitch turned the car away from the loch and into the Scottie Dog carpark. The old pub and hotel took up a coveted corner spot facing the loch. The carpark was crowded, but Grunt was waiting by the side door near a spot that had been cordoned off with a sign saying VIP.
“I take it back,” Mitch said. “There are some perks to picking Betty up.”
As Grunt moved the sign, Mitch eased the car into the spot.
“Do you think the food is ready?” Betty said. “I’m starving.”
Before Mitch could get out of the car and open the door for her, Grunt was there. But instead of helping the old woman out, he reached in and took Betty’s bag from her.
“Hey, give that back, you big bampot,” Betty shouted.
Grunt ignored her and turned the bag upside down to empty the contents on the hood of Mitch’s car. A second later, he held up two stun guns. He stared at Betty for a minute before stalking away with them.
“Don’t just stand there,” she ordered Mitch. “Help me pack up my bag.”
Mitch let out a heavy sigh and did as he was told. Sometimes it was faster and less painful than arguing.
“Ha!” Betty said. “I’m really glad he didn’t strip-search me.”
Mitch made a gagging sound and Jodie smacked him on the back of his head. The thought of anyone stripping Betty in any way was enough to put him off his food for life. The side door opened and Grunt came back out holding a wand detector.
“You spoke too soon,” he told the old woman.
“Arms out,” Grunt ordered.
Betty narrowed her eyes. “And if I don’t, what you going tae do?”
“I’m going to toss you in the loch and then go inside and have lunch.” It was clear from the matter-of-fact way Grunt said it that he meant every word.
Betty held out her arms. “Bloody Yanks. The town has gone to hell since you lot moved in.”
The wand beeped three times before Grunt was through. He netted two more stun guns and a pocket knife from the old woman. With a look of disgust, he took his bounty back into the pub.
“Does Lake know you’ve been pilfering his stock?” Mitch asked.
When Betty wasn’t hanging around the spa demanding that Jodie let her do nails and dye hair—neither of which Jodie had ever let her do—she was sitting in her armchair at Lake’s security shop. Apparently, she’d also been helping herself to the stock while she was there.
Betty ignored the question and stomped into the pub. Jodie grabbed Mitch’s hand and pulled him inside with her.
“Don’t let her get to you,” she said.
“Easy for you to say. She considers you her prodigy. I’m pretty sure she looks on the rest of us as prey.”
Just inside the main doors to the pub was an easel with a huge photo portrait of Betty. It made Mitch shudder to look at it, but at least she had her teeth in the day it was done. The double doors to the restaurant area of the pub had been left wide open so that both areas could be filled. At the back of the room, the small stage had been swathed with MacLeod tartan and there was another huge photo of Betty. The rest of the room was strung with tartan bunting and signs that read: We’ll miss you, Betty and You were the best of us and Betty MacLeod was an unsung genius. There was no prize for guessing who’d written the text for the signs.
“This is horrific,” Mitch told his wife, who looked more amused than horrified.
“Hey, Mitch, over here,” Josh called out.
Mitch looked towards the platform to see that Josh was at the tables reserved for “family.” Since Betty didn’t have any blood relations, that meant Jodie, Lake and anyone vaguely related to them. Mitch and Jodie made their way through the crowd to the tables and plopped into their seats.
“You did a good job, Caroline,” Jodie said.
Caroline smiled brightly. “I just gave her what she wanted.”
“As opposed to what we wanted to give her,” Josh mumbled and got an elbow in the ribs from his prim and perfect wife.
Caroline was in full Grace Kelly mode, with her fifties dress and sleek blond bob. She made Josh look like a hobo in comparison.
“Where are the kids?” Mitch asked. It seemed like over the past few years, all of his friends had spawned. Some of them way more than others.
Mitch wasn’t jealous. He was happy with the decision Jodie and he had made not to have kids of their own. It was something neither of them had ever really wanted and the decision suited them. It also meant they were free to spend time fighting for changes in the law concerning battered women. Since Mitch had obtained his Scottish certification, and Caroline had taken over half his business, he’d had plenty of time to devote to the cause. And to his wife. His wife needed lots of attention.
“They’re next door in the conference room,” Caroline said of Dougal’s latest addition to the pub building. Basically, it was a large, empty room he tried to hire out for conferences. The fact Invertary had never had a conference didn’t put Dougal off. He was of the firm belief that if he built it, they would come.
“The Sunday school teachers are running a crèche for all the kids,” Caroline said. “They have games, TV, a nap area and lots of snacks. I also managed to get a whole bunch of teens to volunteer to help.”
“She means she told them they would help and that’s what they’re doing,” Josh said as Caroline frowned at him.
“What’s the programme for the day?” Mitch nodded at the clipboard in front of Caroline. “When can I get home and get out of this skirt?”
“Kilt!” Jodie and Caroline said at the same time.
Flynn was at the table behind Mitch and tapped his shoulder. “I hope you didn’t wear underpants,” Flynn said. “Real Scots don’t wear anything under their kilts.”
Mitch heaved a sigh. He pointed at his chest. “American.” He sounded the word out for the idiot.
Everyone around them laughed as Josh leaned in to whisper, “You’ve got underwear on, right?”
“Hell yeah,” Mitch said.
“Good. Me too.”
Mitch stared at his best friend, wondering why unity in underwear choices had reassured him. It wasn’t like they planned to lift skirts and flash each other. Mitch looked up to see Dimitri sauntering past with a tray full of drinks. He was wearing jeans.
“Hey.” Mitch pointed at him. “Where’s your kilt?”
Dimitri grinned. “I’m American, dude. I don’t do kilts.”
“Damn it to hell,” Josh said. “We should have done that.”
“So,” Jodie said to Caroline, “the programme.”
“Yes.” Caroline pulled the clipboard closer. “We have a video message, a eulogy and then Betty wants to speak before the rest of the eulogies.”
“Eulogies?” Mitch said. “As in more than one?”
Caroline nodded. “Five, to be exact, and then the entertainment part of the wake starts.”
“I’m singing,” Josh said glumly. “Betty requested I sing Elvis’s ‘Devil In Disguise.’”
“Could have been worse,” Jodie said. “It could have been Cliff Richard’s ‘Devil Woman.’”
“Ooh, bad seventies song alert.” Josh clasped his chest and faked a heart attack.
A murmur went through the crowd and they looked up to see Lake escort Betty up onto the stage, where a huge, red, throne-like chair was waiting. Betty took her seat, with her short legs dangling. Lake turned to the microphone.
“Lake’s MCing?” Mitch could feel his eyebrows go up at the thought of one of the town’s most taciturn men being in charge of the occasion.
“Betty requested him,” Caroline said.
“Well, at least he won’t talk too long,” Mitch muttered to his wife.
“Hello everybody and welcome to Betty MacLeod’s wake,” Lake said over the PA system. “As you can see, she isn’t dead. She just looks like she is.”
Betty cackled loudly.
“We have a lot to get through, so let’s get to it. Harry and Magenta Boyle couldn’t be here today because they’re with their charity setting up a school in Nigeria, but they did send this message.” Lake grinned. “One that Magenta obviously edited before it got to us.”
The lights went out and the screen behind Betty filled with an image of Flynn’s younger brother and his wife. Harry was his usual doofus self and Magenta’s Goth persona was firmly in place. While Harry grinned at everyone, Magenta glared into the camera.
“Hey, Betty,” Harry said. “We’re sorry we can’t be at your wake.”
Big red letters flashed across the screen, accompanied by a headshot of Magenta. I’m not sorry.
“But,” Harry continued obviously oblivious to the message his wife had added later, “we wanted to thank you for helping us to get together.”
You had nothing to do with it. Don’t even think about taking credit, the screen flashed.
“If you hadn’t locked us in the abandoned mine together,” Harry said with a grin, “we might never have become a couple.”
You weren’t matchmaking, the red letters said, you were just amusing yourself.
“We realise you have a bad rep around town,” Harry said.
One that is totally justified.
“But we know it’s just you having fun and not everyone understands your sense of humour.”
That’s because you have no sense of humour.
“So on this day,” Harry held up a glass of wine, “we raise a glass to your memory.”
I wish you were a memory.
“You definitely had an impact on the Highlands,” Harry said. “Happy wake day, Betty.”
To everybody who is watching, this is not a wake. It’s a trap. Run now while you still have the chance.
The screen went blank and Betty’s loud cackle reverberated throughout the room.
“Magenta’s right. We need to go while the going is good.” Mitch whispered to Jodie.
“Don’t be daft.” Jodie patted his hand.
“I say we run,” Josh hissed.
“Stop overreacting,” Caroline said. “She’s just an old woman.”
Jodie burst out laughing. At least Mitch’s wife had some sense.
“Betty has never been an old woman,” Josh said. “She’s Satan in drag.”
“You know, it wouldn’t take much to get Betty legally removed from society.” Mitch considered the old woman. “I could have her out of Invertary by the end of the week and locked up tight where she didn’t bother anyone ever again.”
Jodie elbowed his side while Josh nodded eagerly at the idea. Mitch gave Josh a chin lift. As soon as the wake from hell was over, he was consulting his law books. He owed it to the town of Invertary to deal with Betty. Hell, he owed it to common decency.
“It’s my turn to give a eulogy.” Lake arched an eyebrow as though mystified at how he’d managed to get into the predicament he’d found himself in. “I first met Betty almost a decade ago, when she conned my little sister, Rainne, into buying her old underwear shop and keeping her on as the mascot.”
“Good times,” Betty shouted and Lake shook his head in her direction.
Why Lake and Jodie found Betty amusing, Mitch would never know.
“Anyway,” Lake said. “By the time I arrived, Betty had Rainne intimidated and the shop was going nowhere.”
“Not my fault,” Rainne shouted. “She’s impossible to work with.”
“You were too soft for the business,” Betty shouted back. “You need a backbone of steel to sell knickers.”
“Moving on,” Lake said. “Soon after I arrived in Invertary, I realised I only had two options when it came to Betty. I either adopted her or buried her somewhere remote.”
“You made the right choice,” Betty told him.
“No you didn’t,” Josh coughed the words into his fist.
“In the ten years since I acquired my very own pet Hobbit, I’ve learned a few things about Betty. One, never turn your back on her. Two, check every seat for false teeth before sitting. Three, if you need peace and quiet, buy her a pie. Four, make sure she’s always monitored. Lastly, five, never ask what she does with the life-sized cardboard cut-outs of men she orders from the internet.”
There was a raucous cackle of laughter from Betty’s seat. She was the only one amused. Mainly, the rest of the room were shifting with nervous energy.
“Although Betty is hard work, she’s also entertaining. I realise she isn’t everybody’s cup of tea, but I can honestly say my life is more interesting for having known her,” Lake said. “So if you’ll raise your glasses, let’s toast Betty MacLeod. She’s ninety-five, she isn’t dead and she’s still terrifying the Highlands. To Betty.”
There was a murmur of tepid enthusiasm as the crowd toasted Betty.
“Now Betty wants to say a few words before we get on with the rest of the eulogies,” Lake said.
There were loud groans from the crowd, which Lake ignored. He turned to Betty, who was struggling to get out of the chair. Lake lifted her and put her on her feet. “Keep it short,” he said. “There’s food waiting.”
“Son, this is my wake. I’ll take as long as I bloody well like.”
At those words, everyone in the room, including Mitch, slumped back in their seats and resigned themselves to a very long speech.
*****
Betty MacLeod looked out over the room full of people. Most of them she’d known for their whole lives. Some of them she’d known for most of hers. She gave a finger wave to the retired Reverend Morrison, who’d come back from Spain for her wake. He was looking sexy as ever. Maybe he’d be up for a celebration party of a different kind after her wake.
“Right,” Betty said as she scanned the room. “For ninety-five years I’ve lived in this town and barely tolerated most of you. There have been few of you with the courage and brains to interest me for very long. The exceptions are Lake here, who’s like the son I never had and who is great with a gun. And Jodie there, who I consider my prodigy. I hope you’ll keep this town on their toes long after I’m gone, lassie.”
Jodie grinned back at her and Betty felt proud. In the past six years, Betty had tried to tell Jodie everything she needed to know about terrorising the Highlands. She just hoped it stuck.
“Now, as resident genius of Invertary, I’ve managed to find out a lot about the citizens over the years.”
She saw people sit up straight and grinned. Aye, she thought that would get their attention.
“As this is my wake, and I don’t want that knowledge going to the grave with me, I thought I’d share it with you now.”
There were mutterings and Lake shook his head in resignation. Betty grinned at him. She knew her boy would get her out of there when the crowd turned wild. She just hoped he’d take her out past the buffet table so she could fill her bag with pies on the way.
“First off,” Betty said, “Morag McKay. My arch nemesis.”
The retired bakery owner was over at the bar with her cronies. Where the hell they all managed to get so many polyester coats, she didn’t know.
“Morag McKay, leader of the morality society, spent her youth”—Betty paused for effect and watched Morag pale—“as an exotic dancer in Glasgow.”
“I’m going to kill you,” Morag shouted. “I’m going to turn this into a real wake.”
“Let Betty have her say,” Lake shouted, but he gave Betty a look that said she’d better not take things any further. Aye, like she would pay any attention to that.
“I’ve got photos of Morag shaking her wares that I’ve sent to the local paper. So you might want to organise another one of your protests outside the newspaper building. Dougal,” Betty continued, “buys cheap beef and tells everybody it’s genuine Angus.”
“Somebody cut the sound,” Dougal said. “I won’t stand for this in my pub.”
“Then sit down, you old bampot,” Betty shouted back. “Heather Donaldson is having a secret affair with Alastair Stewart’s father.”
Matt’s mother gasped and Matt shot to his feet. “That’s enough,” he ordered Betty.
“It isn’t secret,” Alastair shouted. “It’s just private. They’re both single.”
“It isn’t private any longer,” Betty said with a cackle.
“Lake,” Matt said, “time to stop this.”
Betty ignored him. She hadn’t spent her life ignoring the police just to start paying attention now. It was time to mix some fiction with the facts.
“Shona McBride used to be a man,” Betty shouted over the noise.
Shona shot to her feet. “I did not. I have the birth certificate to prove it.”
Betty laughed. Shona would have to print it in the local paper to put a stop to this rumour and even then, she wasn’t sure it would work. That served Shona right for having Betty kicked out of the women’s league in the seventies. But Betty wasn’t done with Invertary yet.
“The Domino Boys,” she shouted, “don’t really play dominoes. It’s a cover for porn addicts anonymous.”
Betty watched chaos break out and laughed. This wake thing was way better than she’d dreamed it could be.
“Somebody stop her,” Archie shouted. “This isn’t a wake; this is a slander fest. She’s making this up as she goes.”
Aye, she was, but there was nothing Archie could do about it. This was her wake and she’d have it exactly the way she wanted it. What? Did they expect her to suddenly turn into a sweet old lady? Bunch of pansies.
Lake started stalking towards Betty. “You’re done. I warned you about behaving yourself today.”
“Auch, I’m just having some fun,” Betty told her boy.
Lake waved a hand at the raucous crowd. “Does this look like fun?”
Betty grinned at the chaos in front of her. “Aye, it does.”
“That’s it. This wake is over.”
Lake made a grab for her, but Betty was ready for him. She stepped to the side, taking the microphone with her. She tottered as fast as she could towards her throne, where she’d left supplies for this occasion earlier in the day.
“You can take my life,” she shouted, “but you can never take my freedom. I refuse to be silenced.”
“Grunt,” Lake snapped to the Yank. “If she runs your way, grab her.”
Betty caught sight of Grunt stepping up onto the stage. They had her hemmed in, her exits blocked by beefcake and Betty knew exactly which one she wanted to deal with. She bent over, grabbed what she needed from under the chair and yelled a war cry into the microphone. As Grunt approached her, Betty held out the stun gun and pressed the button. He folded like a house of cards. Before anyone could reach her, Betty tossed up his kilt and stared down at him. Six years she’d been trying to see what the fuss was about and now she knew. The piercing was interesting, although it looked painful more than anything else. It was more the proportions that fascinated her.
With a wicked grin on her face, she looked out at the crowd and lifted the mic to her mouth.
“That is a big willy,” she said before Lake picked her up and ran her out of the room.
As she was carted into the kitchen, where the pies were being held, she heard a shout go out.
“Brenda’s water just broke! Somebody get Deke!”
Lake sat Betty on the stainless steel bench beside a tray of Scotch pies. He stood in front of her with his arms folded and a frown on his face. She supposed she should have been intimidated, but mainly she was hungry.
“Are you pleased with yourself?” he said.
The question was wasted on her. It was supposed to induce guilt. Something Betty hadn’t experienced since the fifties. She reached for a nice, hot pie and took a bite. It was perfect. That Deke sure knew how to cook. These were better than Morag’s pies.
“Betty, are you pleased with the chaos you caused? You went out of your way to upset a lot of people when this could have been a nice day for everybody.”
Betty felt her jaw fall. “What are you talking about? This is the best wake I’ve ever been to. I’m thinking of doing it again next year.”
With a groan, Lake turned on his heels and headed into the melee. Betty shrugged and reached for a second pie.
*****
This is the end of the Invertary series.
I hope you enjoyed reading these books as much as I enjoyed writing them. Keep an eye out for the Benson’s Boys series, as a lot of your favourite Invertary characters will be making an appearance in those.
Thanks for reading my Scottish books!