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That answered the question. It wasn’t Caroline’s idea. And it obviously wasn’t Dougal’s, or Caroline would have said so. That left only one option.
“You know what?” Kirsty smiled sweetly. “I think you’re right. I think I do need closure.”
“So you’ll be at the pub?”
“Oh yes, I’ll definitely be there.”
It looked like the war was still on after all, and that made Kirsty grin.
“I shouldn’t have let you talk me into this,” Lake told Betty.
“What are you whining about now? You look grand.”
“Yeah, right.” He turned to Dougal. “Won’t I get struck by lightning for wearing this thing?”
“You’re offending Scotland, son, not God.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Lake said with a roll of his eyes. “I don’t see why I have to dress up.”
Betty and Dougal shared a look.
“We know,” Betty said. “That’s why you need us. This is a special occasion. You can’t go out there in your birthday suit—as much as you like to flash it every chance you get.”
“What kind of tartan is this?” he said as he felt the fabric.
“McCloud,” Betty told him. “Welcome to the clan, son.”
Excellent, thought Lake. There would be no getting rid of her now.
“How’s Rainne?” Dougal said, interrupting his thoughts.
“She’s okay,” was all Lake said.
He’d found her sharing a flat with about a million other people in Glasgow’s West End, while waitressing at one of the cafes on Byres Road. She was miserable, but stubbornly refused to return with him to Invertary or to go to their parents. He wasn’t sure if he admired her for that or not. He’d wished that Rainne would stand on her own two feet, and now that she’d done it, he didn’t like it one bit.
“Alastair hasn’t said a word to anyone since he came back,” Dougal said, fishing for gossip.
He wasn’t going to get it from Lake. Alastair had enough to deal with in losing Rainne. The last thing he needed was the town poking its nose in. Glasgow had been ugly for Alastair. Rainne had refused to even talk to the boy. In the end, Lake practically had to manhandle him to get him home. It wasn’t pretty.
“Stop fidgeting,” Betty said.
“I can’t help it. I don’t feel comfortable.”
“Get a grip. You ran through Invertary half naked and strutted your stuff on a catwalk. This is nothing.”
“I’m wearing a skirt. It isn’t nothing. Englishmen don’t wear skirts. It’s the reason we had an empire. It’s the reason Scotland is part of the UK. Real men don’t wear skirts.”
Dougal and Betty stared at him, open-mouthed.
“If it wasn’t for Kirsty, I’d walk away now,” Dougal said in disgust. “You’ve been here months and you haven’t learnt a thing. There’s a right way to do things in Invertary. Something of this importance can’t be handled over a quiet cup of tea. It needs flair. It needs drama. Kirsty is an Invertary girl. She wouldn’t be happy with anything less. We’re trying to make sure you don’t make a fool of yourself.”
“By putting me in a skirt?”
Betty whacked him in the stomach. Lake raised an eyebrow at her. Really? You think that will hurt? She narrowed her eyes and kicked him in the ankle. Now that did hurt. He rubbed the spot while glaring at her.
“Grow up,” she commanded.
She tugged down her trademark tartan tent, patted her hairnet and checked to see if her teeth were still in place.
