‘Stuffsafe. This is the best jam I’ve ever tasted.’
‘Well, you can keep that jar as a thank you for upping your hours.’
‘It’s my pleasure.’ Myra batted her swollen knuckles. ‘I’m just glad to be out of the house. It’s been years since I’ve been able to work! I know it’s not full-time, but I can’t tell you how grateful I am to Douglas for giving me a chance.’
Of course. Rae remembered when she began suffering from arthritis back in high school, one of the things she and Cam had in common when it came to their parents.
Another wave of guilt washed through her. She wished she’d tried harder to stay in contact. Maybe this wedding would help them reconnect – if Rae had the time: Harper had already proposed lots of grand ideas. Not that Rae was complaining; the busier she was, the less time she had to worry about Dad and Struan and Martha and the farm and her future,and… well, everything. She was fine, though. Even if her fifteen-minute crying sessions were closer to half-an-hour recently.
The amber and green light pooling through the stained-glass door shifted with the promise of a visitor. Rae turned, excited to greet them and offer out her samples – only it was Harper who bounced in bright and early, with Fraser, who had to duck his head to fit through the threshold, and Cam trailing behind.
‘Morning! Sorry we’re early. I just couldn’t wait!’ Harper greeted, almost knocking over the bearded three-foot gnome, who dangled a welcome sign in his hands. She righted him by the tip of his red hat with a, ‘Excuse me, good sir.’.
‘No, not at all. It’s perfect timing.’ Rae smiled warmly, her eyes sliding behind the engaged couple to Cam. ‘It’s nice to see you again, Cam.’
‘Oh, don’t suck up.’ Cam crossed her tattooed hands over her chest. ‘I’m only here because Harper forced me.’
Fraser nudged his sister with a disapproving frown that she paid no heed to. Rae tried to maintain her composure, though that same thick lump as the other day clogged her throat.
‘Cameron Marie Milligan!’ scolded Myra.
‘It’s okay,’ assured Rae. ‘It’s good you’re all here, actually, because I thought you might like to try our homemade wines.’ She grabbed a bottle from the top shelf, which had been gathering dust at the back of the narrow store. ‘Obviously, you won’t be drinking it, Harper, but the guests might enjoy it.’
She poured a splash into two sample cups for Cam and Fraser, and then one for Myra, who declined and muttered, ‘Better not.’
‘Hang on. Let me smell it,’ Harper said, grabbing the cup from Fraser’s hand and sniffing. ‘Ooh, very fruity.’ She pouted, patting her stomach. ‘I didn’t think this through at all. Who doesn’t drink alcohol on their wedding day?’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll stay sober with you.’ Fraser kissed her temple softly before swigging the wine.
‘I’m sure we can make a non-alcoholic alternative.’ Rae waited keenly for Cam and Fraser’s reactions.
Fraser’s lips puckered around the wine, and he gave an aloof nod. ‘I don’t know why I’m trying it. I know nothing about wine. Cam, you’ll have to decide this one.’
‘It’s fine,’ was Cam’s verdict. Rae was glad Gran wasn’t here to hear it. She could dole out criticism, but she’d never stand for a lukewarm compliment.
‘You didn’t even sniff and swirl!’ Harper said. ‘Come on, Cam. I need your help. What are the top notes? How sweet is it? Is it sharp or soft? What’s the finish like?’
‘The top notes are wine-ish. It’s tart. And the finish is…’ – Cam eyed the bottle – ‘finished?’
Rae tried to hold in her laugh, thinking it best to take over. She described the qualities as best she could, occasionally throwing in things she’d heard from the sommeliers in her restaurants that earned her someOooohsandAaaaahsfrom Harper. In the end, she managed to convince her, with Fraser’s input mostly being, ‘Whatever you think is best, sunshine.’
As she guided them out to present her ideas for the ceremony and reception spaces, her attention kept snagging on just how happy the engaged couple looked – and how comfortable.Half the time, Rae was certain they weren’t listening at all, Fraser drawing circles on Harper’s hip and playing with her blond hair.
A chasm expanded behind Rae’s ribs. She’d thought that, by fulfilling her wildest dreams, she’d done everything right. Had left no room for longing.
But here she was on a farm that might be on its last legs, with a friend who felt more like a stranger, and a future that felt like plunging into an ice bath whenever she thought too hard about it. All of that work, and what did she have to show for it? Her CV was long, yes, but she was still here. Still drowning.
She thought of Struan. How he’d looked at her, responded to her, in these very same fields. He couldn’t fix her messes, but he might be the closest she’d ever come to experiencing the romance she had an example of in front of her now – and really, wasn’t that sad? They’d taken each other like desperate, horny teenagers. Even if they explored more of each other, it was purely physical, at least on his side. It had to be.
Planning this wedding was a harsh reminder that she’d never really known romantic love. She’d never been prioritised or adored the way Harper and Fraser clearly adored each other. Perhaps that was why she hadn’t bothered to come home all this time: there was nobody here who wanted her. At least when she’d been travelling between restaurants, she’d been able to outrun those feelings. Convinced herself she didn’t need anything else.
Now, she was staring them right in the face, and it hurt far more than it should have.
‘This,’ Harper uttered, shielding her dark eyes from the brilliant sun as she soaked in the orchard. ‘This is where we should have the ceremony. It’s so, so beautiful.’
Rae fanned herself with her notebook, smile remaining pasted on her face despite the pang of something sharp inside. This washerspot. Hers and Martha’s, once, forever carved into the oak tree. And now, hers and Struan’s, even if they’d left no marks. She’d come back here just last night after seeing him, desperate to remember that brief flicker in time where the pressure on her shoulders had lightened and she’d felt wanted.
Of course, the orchard was the perfect place for a quiet wedding, with its grassy, flat surface and the aligned fruit trees providing a natural aisle. The view of the Highlands would make a perfect frame for photographs, and early-season apples would provide splashes of red once August rolled around.
