Page 96 of A Scottish Highland Hideaway

“It’s beautiful. Thank you, Countess Tweed Muir.”

Mum preened. “My pleasure. And please do call me Vanessa.”

Remembering why we were here, I steered Mum to one side while Amber trotted off to admire the view. “Everything going to plan so far?”

“What a silly question,” tinkled Mum, “of course it is.”

Once Rowan and Amber had made themselves at home in their rooms and unpacked their belongings, we started ferrying our floral handiwork into the house.

“How on earth could you turn your back on all of this?” Amber asked.

“I haven’t,” I insisted. “But I’m an adult and I have my own life now. This is my parents’ home and my parents’ life, not mine.”

“I guess,” said Rowan. “But it’s all so beautiful.”

I gave an optimistic smile. “Yes, it is. But it comes with strings attached, and being independent gives me a freedom I never had when I lived at home.”

“And what about Marcus?” asked Rowan, squinting. “Does he embrace all this?”

“More than I do,” I admitted. “He will inherit it, of course, and he’s always known that, so it’s different for him.”

Amber asked me when Marcus would be arriving.

A pang of sadness struck me. “I don’t think he’s coming. He’s away with friends at the moment.”

No need to air our dirty laundry in front of the girls, I thought.

“Right,” I announced, changing the subject and unlocking the doors of the van. “Let’s get this lot inside and then we can start setting up for tonight.”

My mother was clearly in charge, directing the various teams with an efficiency that spoke of years of hosting parties such as this. She pointed one lacquer-nailed finger here and there to various harassed guys in overalls. They were juggling a huge life-size portrait photograph of Ezra. It was a stunning black-and-white image of him in his younger days, sporting a tux and looking like James Bond. There were also Chinese lanterns, rolls of King Angus tartan supported at either end by puffing, red-faced men, and what looked like a catering company boss speaking to a small group of apprehensive-looking students in smart black trousers, skirts, and shirts.

“Everything all right, Mum?” I asked.

She swept her dark hair back from her made-up face. “It will be, once Ezra and his team get here. I expected them to be here already.” Her attention fell on the extravagant pastel-blue wildflowers and Scottish globe thistles I’d arranged in a round cream vase I was cradling in my arms.

Amber was behind me, carrying three frosted navy goblets, which we’d spun with an array of blue roses, cream tea roses, and delicate traces of matching blue ribbon.

Rowan brought up the rear, juggling an arrangement of ice-blue candles surrounded by ivy, frosted cones, and dried twigs.

Mum blinked for several seconds at the displays. “You made these?”

“We made them,” I said with a smile, nodding at Rowan and Amber. “We have about a dozen more just like them back in the van to retrieve.”

As if on cue, my mobile pinged in my pocket, signalling the arrival of a text. I set down the arrangement on a nearby table to look at my phone. It was from Ezra.

“He’s on his way,” I assured her. “He and his ‘people’ left Heather Moore about half an hour ago.”

Mum nodded, and I could tell how much she was in her element right now.

“Bailey? How are you? I’m Corrie. Good to meet you at last.”

I spun round to see Corrie, the assistant at Ezra’s management agency, trundling her wheelie case along the hall floor. “How lovely to see you.”

She was pretty in a funky sort of way, with short dark hair and lots of silver jewellery.

“This is going to be a great night,” she beamed, nodding at my mum.

“I feel like I know Corrie so well,” laughed Mum, lightly grazing her on the cheek with a kiss in greeting. “We’ve exchanged so many emails and phone calls! Your room is the last one along the upstairs corridor.”