Christ. Is it that obvious?
“Empire biscuits!” Finn’s delighted shout saves me from having to respond. “You’re back to making them again!”
“Aye, and do you know what’s even better? This one’s on the house.” She hands him one—two biscuits wedged together with jam, iced, and topped with a jelly sweet. “For my favourite six-year-old.”
While Finn demolishes it, Blair takes in the display. “Flora, these look amazing. Is that a clootie dumpling?”
“Aye.” Flora beams.
I frown and nod at her wrist. “Shouldn’t you have got someone else to run the stall this year?”
“Och, I can quite manage a cake stall, thank you very much.”
Blair’s already counting out coins. “I have to try it. My gran used to make clootie dumpling. I haven’t had it since she passed.”
She takes a bite, eyes closing, her face softening. “Oh... that’s just like hers. Takes me right back to her kitchen in Toronto.”
Flora glows at the praise. “Proper clootie dumpling is hard to come by these days. It’s a dying art.”
Just then, Logan and Rosie barrel through the crowd like twin hurricanes, Isla close behind. Their faces are painted with elaborate designs—Logan’s a fierce tiger, Rosie’s a rainbow butterfly, and Isla a glittery unicorn.
“Look at our faces!” Logan yells, nearly bowling over an elderly woman with a walking stick.
“Logan Fraser, mind where you’re going!” Douglas’s voice carries over the bustle before he appears, looking as frazzled as ever. Struan saunters behind him, hands in his pockets, grinning like chaos is his idea of entertainment.
Finn stares at the kids’ painted faces in awe then turns to me with pleading eyes. “Can I get mine done too?”
As if I’ve ever been able to say no to that look. “Aye, of course.”
“I’ll show you where they do it!” Logan crows, already shoving back through the crowd.
Blair calls a quick goodbye to Flora, and we follow the kids through the festival. At the face-painting tent, Finn rocks on his heels, jittering with more energy than his small body can hold. Whether it’s sugar from Flora’s biscuit or just the festival buzz , I can’t tell. Probably both.
Douglas edges up beside me. “Heard you were over on Corraig yesterday. How was that?”
“Hard,” I admit. Then, after a beat: “Good, though.”
Blair slips her hand into mine, and I give it a squeeze. Yesterday we faced ghosts together, and today I’m still standing. Thanks to her.
A woman I don’t know stops Blair for a quick chat about the weather and the festival. When she moves on, I lean closer to Blair. “Who was that?”
“Shona from the post office.”
Struan overhears and smirks. “Four years here, Lachlan, and you still barely know anyone. Meanwhile Blair’s been here one summer and already knows half the town.”
He’s not wrong.
“Aye, well. Time I did something about that, eh?”
Struan raises his brows. “That right?”
I nod. “Blair must be rubbing off on me.”
Douglas claps my back. “Good man.”
Finn reaches the front of the queue and soon he’s proudly showing off a small otter on his cheek.
An otter. Of course.
