Page 12 of Kilt Trip

She breathed past the ice crystals filling her chest, cutting and scraping with the reminder of all she’d lost.

In quiet moments, she could admit she wanted to find where the pictures were taken. Yearned to drive up to Macrae lands and walk around the castle staring back at her from across the room...but the photos in her hands could’ve been taken anywhere.

One of the Sutherlands might recognize the backgrounds. It was a better prospect than asking her dad, who shut down—shut Addie out—every time she brought up her mom. But it wasn’t only her aversion to Brian’s stilted phone calls holding her back. It wasn’t like she’d never tried to recapture her mom.

Addie had driven out to the desert once after college, bought gas-station hot cocoa and sat alone on the rock her mom used to claim. She watched the hot-air balloons rise in the distance, the glow in the light of daybreak, but she’d felt nothing.

Like they’d used up all the magic.

If she ventured out onto the Scottish moors, stood where her mom had stood, and it was windy and cold...and empty? No. Addie would rather leave the possibility lingering out in the universe. She couldn’t handle a confirmation that her mom was well and truly gone from her.

5

Logan took the office stairs two at a time. The weak, wintery sunlight filtered through the arched windows and turned the strung-up tour photos along the back wall to silver. Over the forest of potted ferns, he could barely see the few early-to-work employees. They looked up, and Logan raised a hand in greeting, finding that the smile sat more easily on his face today.

He wove through the desks set off at random angles, the printer chugging in the background, and strode into his dad’s office.

Neil wore his checkered jacket usually reserved for special occasions. His mustache twitched as he collected pens and shuffled papers as if he was...organizing. Unease prickled across the back of Logan’s neck. “Morning—”

“Morning, lad. Meet me in the conference room?” His dad’s voice was too bright, and he blustered past Logan, not meeting his eye.

“What’s going on?” Logan asked as soon as they turned the corner.

The caterpillar mustache stretched into a guilty stripe. “I’ve hired the travel consultant.”

Heat flared through Logan’s body before he fully processed the news. “The American consultant you said we’d continue to discuss before bringing on?”

“Well...yes.” Neil pursed his lips, smartly retreating behind the protection of a leather-backed chair. “In my defense, you haven’t entertained a discussion. You’ve been banging on for weeks about not wanting her help. It’s doing my head in.”

After all these years of working side by side, of learning everything his dad could teach him, Neil still didn’t believe Logan could do this alone. And now he entrusted the company’s future to some Yankee they’d never even met? Without Logan’s buy-in?

He clenched his teeth. “We don’t—”

“The Heart needs modernizing. It’s years overdue.”

Logan shook his head at the familiar argument. They already knew what happened when they strayed from their vision: their business fell apart. His thoughtless risk had resulted in canceled tours that nearly cratered their finances. Logan couldn’t understand why his dad believed another shake-up would fix it. The only path forward was to refocus on the tours that had worked for thirty years and market them to a broader audience to fill their buses.

There was tradition to uphold.

Elyse walked in carrying two steaming mugs, one the size of a cereal bowl with the word AunTea scrolling around the side. As if sensing the tension in the room, she skirted the conference table and leaned against the exposed brick wall, the same copper and cinnamon as her hair. “Mornin’.”

She set one mug down and sipped her tea, eyes darting between Logan and Neil, and arched an eyebrow with the same nosy interest as the day they’d moved in across the hall from each other at uni. Somewhere between toilet-papering every nook of Logan’s room and competing with him and Jack to place traffic cones on Edinburgh’s most prestigious statues, Elyse had become family.

“A couple from yesterday plans to join Big Mac’s next tour. Have you heard from them yet?” he asked her.

“They left a message last night. I have them all signed up.”

Neil rocked back on his heels and studied the ceiling as if willing it to swallow him whole. Logan knew the maneuver well and braced himself for what was surely more dire news. “What else?”

“While you’re ruffled...she’s staying in Jack’s spare room.”

Logan threw his hands in the air. “She’s here already?” Neil’s averted gaze confirmed there was no way to stop this. Logan had been punishing himself enough already—surely this was excessive?

Elyse said, “And she just texted. She’ll be arriving any minute.”

“You knew about this, too?”

“He asked me to keep quiet.” Her droll look asked Who do you think organized it? Elyse was much more than their office manager. Without her, the entire company would crumble. Of course she already knew. He just never expected her to cross enemy lines.

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