Page 67 of Priceless
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
From the pile of Jess’ donations, I chose sweat pants and a hoodie, then fixed my face and hair before I finally felt presentable. Jess had even left me an unopened package of underwear, so I felt completely clean. When I found her in the kitchen to thank her, she was on her phone at the table, sitting in front of a bunch of lists.
She ended the call and grinned at me. “Jacob’s gone home for a wee bit, but he’ll be back in time for theceilidh.”
“What’s a kay-lee?”
“A proper Scottish party. Ye cannae say ye’ve experience the country without it.”
I definitely didn’t feel like a party, but I pulled out my phone. “Maybe it’s on my list.” She told me how to spell it, and there it was, something Jocko had suggested. It wasn’t on the schedule, but on a list of things I should keep an eye out for.
“By seven, ye’ll want to change into that plaid dress.”
I blinked. “The black and red one?”
“Aye. Trust me. When everyone arrives, ye’ll blend right in.”
“Bright red and black will blend in?”
“Aye. Trust me.”
While I was sittingin the hoogah, skimming through a hundred-year-old copy of Wuthering Heights, Banner brought me a tray with a bowl of soup and some fresh crusty bread.
“Jacob called just the now. We chatted, and we’re wondering if ye’d like to have him collect yer things from Bluebell House and call this yer bed and breakfast for the rest of yer stay. Jess would like nothin’ more, but we dinnae want ye to feel coerced. Ye can still come and go as ye like, as will we. No one waitin’ on ye hand and foot, mind.”
I hesitated, then realized I could call a taxi anytime I needed and find a hotel at the last minute without too much trouble. So I agreed.
A partyin Scotland is a combination of dance, bonfire, and wedding reception without a bride and groom. The fact that Jess put it all together in a few hours blew my mind.
A truck showed up with tables and chairs with a crew to unload them. Two different companies brought food. An old blue pickup truck with a trailer behind it brought enough wood to heat a house for a month, and a band arrived in an ancient van and started setting up without anyone giving directions, as if they’d played in the Wallace backyard often.
I didn’t need a crystal ball to know that the memory of that evening, with Jacob, would be just as priceless as every minute I’d spent with him thus far.
When the guests started arriving, I was glad I’d taken Jess’ advice and put on the dress. It was wool and soft, and nearly ankle length, and with a little black jacket I would be reasonably warm without standing beside the fire all night. But she was right about the colors. I didn’t stand out at all, except for the fact that I was solo, where the other guests came in pairs. Most of them matched. Most of the men wore kilts, and nearly all of those were bright colors.
The pattern on a big fellow had all of them together. Yellow, red, green, and blue. I overheard his wife groaning when she realized his socks didn’t match. Banner introduced him as Shoog Buchanan. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was short for Sugar. He was awfully sweet. Except for the brief exchange about the socks, he and his wife had a hard time taking their eyes off each other long enough to say hello.
As if it knew people were anxious to start the fire, the sun headed for the western horizon in a hurry. Torches were anchored in the ground and lit around the perimeter. The band began to warm up. And the last touches were put on the food tables by the catering staff.
With a surgeon’s wages and no kids to spend it all on, I figured a reception in the backyard, every now and then, wouldn’t clean out the Wallace’s bank account.
When the band got into full swing, I was the only one watching the road. That shiny Land Rover had yet to show up, and I was beginning to wonder if Jacob had reconsidered the whole “damage mitigation” idea. I couldn’t blame him if he had. But damn, it made my heart hurt, like it was preparing to shatter early.
“Relax,” Jess said behind me, then offered me a glass of something golden brown. “He’ll be here. The best way to punish him for bein’ late is to be dancing with someone else when he rolls in.”
“Funny. But no. I think he’ll suffer enough…in a week or so.”
“Right ye are. I’ll leave ye to it. But dinnae fash.” Her smile fled when we heard a siren. Nothing like back home, but there was no mistaking it, and the two of us hurried out to the road so we could see farther.
The car barreling toward us was big and black with chunky metal grills all over it. I was so happy to see it, that I wasn’t too worried about the flashing blue lights following close behind. Jacob pulled over to the side of the road, still a hundred yards away, thanks to the dozens of cars filling all available space. Then he jumped out and marched back to meet the officer halfway.
I couldn’t move. I could only stare. My imagination, come to life, was towering over a little policeman in the street, pointing to the bonfire, and shouting at the man for keeping him from the party. Or at least that was my guess. Jacob’s kilt had smaller squares of maybe green and tan, and it stopped just below his knees. His calves had the muscles of someone who carried whisky barrels on a regular basis, and the size of his shoulders said he could probably manage two at a time.
If he couldn’t show off by loading a catapult singlehandedly, this was the next best thing.
The policeman followed Jacob’s pointing finger, took in all the chaos, the band, the dancing, and the crowd that could have walked off a movie set, and held up his hands. He nodded and backed toward his vehicle, then slipped inside and closed the door fast, like he thought Jacob might climb in after him. Then he gave a little salute with his fingers and backed up before driving away, his lights still flashing.
Jacob watched the retreat for only a few seconds before he turned and hurried our way. When he realized it was me in the bright red and black, he slowed to a stop and stared.
