Page 80 of Geordie

The reception area of the hall is nearly full, with guests mingling in clusters, others at the long bar under the warm, yellow flickering candlelight with holiday music playing. Two massive wooden panel doors braced with an iron crossbar separate the dining area. Connell is speaking to a lively group; it's time for me to do the same.

“Geordie?” A male voice comes from behind. The man appears, extending his hand. “I'm not sure you remember me; it's been a few months.”

“Aye, Stephen. You're a hard man to forget. I didn't see your name on the attendees list. Are you here as someone's guest?”

He lets the sleight go unchallenged. I just hope it wasn't Lily who invited her ex-boyfriend to the dinner.

“I joined your wine club when I saw the Winemaker's Dinner mentioned inSilicon Valley Today. The article said this was a holiday event in the valley you should not miss. It happens that I'm in town this week, so I thought I'd join the fun.”

“I'm sure you'll have a fine time. If you will excuse me, I need to greet my other guests.”

Moving in and out of groups, I monitor Stephen and the door, waiting for Lily to show. The meetings with the guests are a blur as I talk to group after group. When Layla pulls me away from another encounter, I'm relieved for the break.

“The bagpipers are here. They're ready to pipe the five-minute warning for dinner. It's time for everyone at the head table to take their seats before they pipe in the guests.”

“Can't we hold them off a wee bit longer?” Then I see Lily drifting through the crowd in a burgundy-wine velvet dress that brushes the floor like royalty, a tad thinner than the last time I saw her, but radiant. She reaches me and all I want to do is sweep her into my arms and away from this place.

“Geordie,” she says, gazing up at me as she takes my arm. “You look handsome in your Highland dress, like the young Laird of the manor.” My chest puffs a wee bit at her attention. She squeezes my arm. “I'm sorry I'm late. The flight was bumpy and it upset my stomach. I needed time to get over the air travel, but I'm here. What did I miss?”

“You look pure barry in that dress, lass. You'll make a braw hostess.” I receive a smile for the compliment. “I'll introduce you around after the dancing. We need to take our seats.”

“I didn't know you were attending.” Stephen slips in front of us. Lily stiffens, tightening her grip on my arm. “The program only mentioned you were catering. I'd hoped to see you after the dessert. You look beautiful in that dress, but then you're always stunning no matter what you wear.”

I'll not have this man ruin the evening for her or me. “Lily is here as my guest; she's hosting the event with me,” I say, placing a protective hand over hers.

Surprise flashes briefly in his calculating eyes, but you'd have to look closely to see it. It doesn't appear Lily has told him about us.

“I'm sorry to interrupt,” Layla says, chucking her chin toward the head table. “We need to begin.”

“Aye, have the pipers give the five-minute warning after the head table is seated.”

“Wonderful to see you, Lily,” Stephen inserts himself, giving her a wink. “I hope to have a minute to talk with you after dinner. Perhaps you'll save me a dance.” He glances at me, taking a step back. “I'll leave you to it. Break a leg.”

Lily tugs at my arm while I watch the man weave through the waiting guests. “Don't pay any attention to him,” she says, standing on her toes to whisper in my ear. “He has a problem when he's not the center of attention. Let's go to our seats.”

We take our places at the head table, Lily, Connell, and I, along with two couples who won head table seating in our wine member lottery. The couples are on either side of us, both men in tartans for the occasion.

A nervous energy surges around the head table as we wait. Some gravitate toward their neighbor to give a final comment before we begin. I lean towards Lily. “Some traditions you'll see tonight are used in a Scottish military mess.” She turns to me, plump red lips smiling, and they are too tempting not to kiss.

“You never told me what I'm expected to do as hostess.”

“You're doing it, lass. Stay close to me and look bonnie.”

She huffs a laugh. Maybe that was a wee bit arrogant, but I said it as a tease. It didn't seem to have dampened her mood. I move closer to her, resuming my explanation. “The head table will remain seated while three bagpipers pipe the guests in. There will be a second piping when the main course is served.”

Our attention turns toward the great doors as they're thrown open. The bagpipes squeal and three pipers soberly step to the music, followed by the guests entering the room.

Among the glitter of the women's gowns are several men in their clan's tartans, striding like proud sons of Scotland. The gathering searches for their assigned seats, which is a few minutes of confusion and light banter.

I rise and pick up the mic when the crowd is at a low hum. “Welcome to the fall Winemaker's Dinner. MacTavish Cellars is honored to have you here this evening. It will be an evening of fine wine, food, friends, laughter, and a few surprises. I see that the servers have filled your glasses for the first toast.” The gathering stands, raising a glass. “I borrow a quote from Brian Harris, a man of Wales, but if he had been a Scot, I'm sure this would be his sentiment, as we all have pride in our country.

To be born Scottish is to be born privileged, not with a silver spoon in your mouth but with the sound of the bagpipes in your blood and poetry in your soul.” I raise my glass to the guests.“Slàinte Mhath.”

They echo the toast back to me, then there’s a pause as we sip. I ask them to be seated. I nod at Lily while there's a rumble of chairs scraping the floor and bums adjusting in their chairs. When there is relative quiet, I continue my address. “As many of you know, Lochlan is away.”

There's a collective groan, mostly from the females.

“Aye, I know. We miss his sparkling personality, too.”

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