Page 4 of Kilt Trip

Addie closed her eyes and breathed in, a hint of salt lingering in the humid air. An undercurrent buzzed lightly in the breeze, a glimmer of mysticism, like the leftover magic of standing stones and faeries.

Edinburgh Castle ruled the skyline—a silhouette against the golden light hanging on the horizon, balancing the purple sky above. The blush of the waning light echoed those early mornings in the desert, so far away, and so long ago.

Once every fall, Addie’s mom had climbed into her bed before dawn and whispered, “Rise and shine, baby.”

Her dad made hot chocolate in the light of the range hood, while Addie dressed in layers of winter coats. They squished into the front seat of their beat-up pickup truck and drove into the desert. The headlights shone on worn-down center lines, the stars a twinkling map, as they searched for wonder, their wheels kicking up red dirt in billowing shadows behind them.

They stepped into the cold morning air, and Addie’s mom wrapped a black-and-white plaid blanket around her shoulders as her dad handed her a thermos. They made their way past boulders and scrubby bushes, only the sound of their footsteps filling the air, as if the dawn held too much power and they’d wreck it with words.

With mittened hands curled around cocoa cups, they settled on rocky seats.

Off in the distance, in the bowl of the valley, hot-air balloons filled, glowing like rainbow bubbles expanding in the night.

Only when all the balloons hung in the sky, embracing the pink clouds of morning, did they speak.

Her dad wanted to explain the physics of flight, but her mom shushed him. Eyes shining, she said, “Watching them rise, one after another, it feels like magic. Like anything is possible.”

After Addie’s mom died, when her dad had shut himself away and that feeling was nowhere to be found, Addie would drive their white pickup into the desert. The patchwork of rough cracks on the leather seats scraped her bare legs, and she had to pound the radio to keep the static down, but anything was better than the crushing silence of the house. She drove those same back roads, the ones the desert might reclaim at any moment, the pavement rippling with summer heat, searching for the wonder she was terrified she’d never find again.

Addie pressed the heel of her hand hard against the twisting ache under her breastbone.

The brush of plastic against her arm startled her, and she took half a step back, blinking fast.

Logan tipped his head, a curl falling to the side. His eyes held a quiet earnestness, soft around the edges, like he could see the memories splashed all over her face. Like he was giving her permission, somehow, to give in to the pull.

She drew in a deep breath, the cold snagging deep in her lungs.

The woman next to Addie whispered to her partner, “Let’s go to the castle tomorrow.”

Addie cleared her throat and refocused on the tourists who’d started to mill about.

Edinburgh was full of stray reminders waiting to jump out and snatch her back into that old grief. But she wasn’t here searching for Scotland’s magic or the disarming beauty in her mom’s old stories.

She was here to work.

And while this was a nice photo op, these people would share a selfie at the castle with turrets and ramparts—or whatever they were called—in the background.

Ninety percent ranked the Royal Mile favorably on TripAdvisor. She couldn’t in good conscience give Logan full marks for a tour that barely broke Edinburgh’s Top 25 Attractions, while he dangled the top destination in front of them.

As they headed back down the hill, Addie compiled a mental report card.

Way off the beaten path, minus 5 points.

Appealing to a wide range of ages and nationalities, not only young Australian backpackers, 2 points.

No stops at a gift shop, minus 2 points.

“I hope you enjoyed our time together. If you have any more questions, you’re welcome to join me for a dram at my favorite pub down the road. Enjoy Scotland.”

Recommending local restaurants near the end of the trip, 1 point.

Addie had never heard of a guide socializing after the tour. He might be highly incentivized, but she got the distinct impression he simply appreciated the company.

Whatever the reason, it was a genius sales strategy. It might be difficult convincing other clients to pay guides for additional tour time, but there was no doubt about the effect on this group. They followed Logan down the hill like ducklings—six, seven, eight, yes, all nine of them. She’d bet her wellies they would recommend this company to everyone they knew.

Making guests feel like friends, 10 points.

She shifted her weight. She shouldn’t follow. Didn’t need to stand out to Logan in case he told his boss she’d been there.

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