I walk through the lounge, and that’s when I bump into who I’m assuming must be Effie’s husband, Angus.
“You must be one of the Omega twins staying in the double room, I reckon?” he says, his accent so heavy I need to stare at his mouth to understand him.
Our mother always had an accent, so I grew up used to it, but he puts my mom’s brogue to shame.
“Yes, I’m Maisie. Do you have a recommendation for a cafe in town?” I ask.
This has him brightening up. Angus is a large man, clearly well loved and fed by his wife Effie. He’s balding, minus a ring of white that travels along his head that matches the thick beard on his face. His cheeks have a rosy hue to them, and I can’t help but to compare our precious hosts to Mr. and Mrs. Claus.
“Craic Cafe is always a favorite. If you go out the garden gate, make a left on the street. You’ll pass a few homes, but once you hit the market, the cafe will be on your right.”
“Thank you,” I tell him and he gives me a wide smile.
“If there’s anything else you’ll be needing, just call for me or Effie,” he says, nodding before he stacks firewood next to the fireplace.
I do as Angus says, walking through the garden gate and making a left. The cool morning air against my face helps wake me up, and it’s the first time I really get a good look at the town. When we were driving in, I was focused on making sure we made it here alive, not how whimsical the town feels.
It’s nothing like Chicago, and while I love my city, I can’t help but to feel a deep sense of peace in this place. It’s quiet, serene even, and I wish I could have experienced it with Mom here.
She always wanted to take us back to Scotland, show us where she grew up and the country she loved so much. We were just too busy, didn’t have the money, and by the time we started talking about actually planning the trip, she was too sick to travel.
I take a deep breath, inhaling the fresh air and attempting to let some of my guilt go.
When I get to the cafe, a quaint little shop, with an all glass front, I’m greeted by a kind Beta with green and black hair.
“Welcome in, what can I get for you?” they ask.
“Can I have two hazelnut lattes and two ham and cheese toasties, please?”
“Right on it.”
I take a seat by the window as I wait for the food, watching as everyone goes about their day. I wonder if my mom ever sat at this very cafe, if she ever milled about on this very street. Something about the idea has me feeling close to her, and I have to take a deep breath before I cry.
“I see you found Craic Cafe,” a deep voice says, startling me.
I glance up to find our roadside knight in a kilt, Lain. I eye him suspiciously, considering yet again, he’s wearing the red kilt, this time with a cream-colored sweater.
He looks at me and I can’t help but to push my glasses closer to my face and fuss with my hair. I didn’t even look in the mirror when I left the room. It’s probably a nightmare.
Who cares what you look like, Maisie?
“It was a recommendation from Angus,” I say and the Alpha’s lips turn up.
“Ah, so you’re staying at the Heather Beag, then?”
“Does everyone in this town know each other?” I say, wondering if he only fixed our tire in some master murder plot. I need to chill with the murder pods while I work.
“Mostly, though I’ve known Angus since I was wee.”
I hum and look around. “Where’s your coworker?”
“Fergus doesn’t get along with the coos, so I leave him at home on the days I do tours to the farm.”
“And this is your uniform,” I say, waving my hand at the attire.
He takes the seat across from me, showing off his knees as he sits. Is it me or does his kilt rise a salacious amount?
“Aye. I used to dress normally, but my mate suggested…mate as in friend,” he says, interrupting his own thoughts as he clears his throat. “Anyway, he suggested I whip out the kilt for tours, and wouldn’t you know my tips went up by 40 percent?”
