Page 110 of Grace on the Rocks

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Bryan wasn’tthe kind of person who asked for help easily.Itwas one thing to implore folk to save the planet by reducing their single-use plastics or planting flowers for the pollinators.Butto ask for himself felt like an admission of failure.

As someone who’d grown up under the microscope of a speech impediment, where people held their breaths every time he opened his mouth, bracing for secondhand embarrassment, or else impatiently chivvied him along—he preferred grappling with his own challenges in solitude.

But there was no way he andWescould plan a double quinceañera on their own in a few short days.

And so, he acceptedCait’sinvitation to family tea and arrived hat in hand to ask for help from the people least likely to say no.

“What do you need us to do?” his mother asked, dishing out mouthwatering helpings ofParmesanaubergine.

“Any chance the shop could order a piñata in time?”

Her face fell. “NotbyMonday, love.”

Across the table,Sarabounced excitedly in her chair andCaitshushed her.

“MaybeTeàrlachcould pick one up inGlasgow?”Elspethsuggested, butCaitshook her head.

“He’s busy all week—Sarawill you please sit still?”

“ButIhave something to say!” the little girl implored.

“Spit it out, then,”AuntieEilidhencouraged her great-great niece, who grinned, suddenly shy.

“Sara?”Caitprompted.

With all eyes on her,Saratook a deep breath and drew herself up straight in her chair. “Iknow how to make a piñata from papier-mâché.Wedid them in school!”

“Did you?”Caitasked. “Inever saw it.”

Sam grinned. “ ’Causeshe beat hers to pieces ’til there was nothing left.”

Tossing her brother a withering look,Sarareplied, “That’swhat you’re supposed to do.”

“Do you think you could make another?”Elasked.

Sara nodded, giddy. “Definitely, if you help me.”

“Well, that’s sorted,”Masaid with a nod. “Whatabout food?I’vealways wanted to try my hand at tamales.”

“That’d be grand,Ma,”Bryansaid, warmth flooding his chest and loosening the eternal tightness inside.

AuntieEilidhwas watching him shrewdly and seemed to notice his relief. “Don’tworry,” she said. “Thisfamily knows a thing or two about pulling off a grand affair.”Shewinked atBryan’sfather, who’d remained unusually quiet so far. “Andwhat about me?Whatrole doIplay?YouknowIlove a spectacle,”Eilidhadded.

Resisting every inclination to chastise his great aunt for lending the girls her old motorboat, while she sat there with a gleam in her eye practically daring him to,Bryanleaned forward and smiled. “Auntieyou have the most important job of all.Ineed you to pull off a miracle, but you’ve only got a week.”

She puffed up just asSarahad done. “WhoamI,Jesus?” she scoffed. “I’ma woman, young man.I’lldo it in half the time.”

Everyone burst out laughing, and as he dug into the plate of cheesy, saucy aubergine,Bryanfound an appetite he hadn’t known for weeks.Itmay not be the quinceañera ofGrace’sdreams, but she certainly wouldn’t forget it—or theHebrides—any time soon.Maybeshe’d decide to stay?

He batted that thought away.Shehad a life back inTennessee, friends, a job.Thiswas just his way of cementing their friendship, sending her off in style, that was all.

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After the meal,Bryanstood in the back garden watching his niece and nephew run around with their dog, when his father approached carrying two glasses and an open bottle ofRionnagach.

“This is the finest dramI’veever tasted,Son,” his father said in a gravelly voice. “It’syours?”

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