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“Aye,” the Mighty MacDougall Brothers collectively mumble while shoveling pav into their mouths at such a rate; I really should have had a few hours warning and made an extra one.
“Mmmm, Tucker is missing out on getting dessert,” Angus jokes. I try not to blush but fail.
“Everyone, I want to make a toast to my darling husband for the Mustang he bought me.” We all raise our glasses, except Paisley’s is noticeably filled with orange juice. Then she whispers in her husband’s ear, which has his eyes bulging, then looking down at his wife’s belly, then whooping loudly, sloshing expensive Champagne over the edge of his glass.
No guesses needed what happened to the goats.
“We are having a baby!” he shouts before kissing his wife passionately and carefully hugging her like she is a fragile flower.
Everybody congratulates the happy couple. The MacDougall brothers follow Wiley’s behavior by carefully hugging their sister-in-law.
Gwen and I give our friend a group hug. My heart fills with joy for her impending motherhood.
“How far along are you?” Gwen asks.
“Six weeks. I am announcing too early, so I hope I haven’t jinxed the pregnancy, but I couldn’t keep it a secret any longer from my husband. I’ve only known for a short time, and Wiley wouldn’t be able to keep this a secret, so while bubbly is filling glasses and we have family and friends surrounding us, my excitement got ahead of me. We will let Tavish and Ellen know later, and we will get word to Shamus and my family.”
“I think we need to mark this important announcement with a group photo,” Knox whisper-shouts. “I don’t want to upset the goats by talking loudly.” The whole time the goats have been more interested in staying close to Pearl than curious about their new roomies.
We all shuffle about in a mess of bodies until we are behind Pearl and the Mini-Ms. They are back happily climbing on her and sitting beside her.
“Ladies in the front, MacDougalls at the back.” Fraser organizes us calmly with the lit-up Christmas tree as our backdrop. Then he coaxes Bobby and Banjo into position, then Bill and Ben, who are a little reluctant to agree. Gwen and I each hold a dog. And that’s about as good as it is going to get.
Fraser is using my phone, which is now on the selfie stick. “Okay, everybody, squeeze in a little closer together.” We shuffle around. “A little more.”
Wistfully I wish Tucker was here to enjoy this moment with us all. I badly want to hear Tucker’s voice.
I need to suck it up and live by my rules.
If I talk the talk, I need to walk the walk.
“Ooo-pheliaaa.” A hand gently shakes my shoulder, breaking the spell on my mind.
“Huh?”
“You’re in Tuckerland instead of focusing on the task at hand,” Gwen scolds me playfully.
Angus leans over my shoulder. “Fraser is our resident photographer for our winery, and he takes the job seriously, staging his shots. You are messing with his masterpiece by staring off into Ophelia-and-Tucker land.”
My cheeks flare with heat. “Sorry, Fraser.”
“I’m just kidding, lass.” Angus laughs. “You are too easy. But on a serious note, we could be stuck here for ages if ye don’t get yer head in the game. He will take at least ten pictures, moving us about, telling us to look this way and that and do different things. Bill and Ben are probably going to be the least likely to hold out for that many shots.”
Fraser shakes his head humorously while rolling his eyes skyward. “Don’t listen to him, Ophelia.”
I get my head in the game, and he successfully takes at least a dozen great photos with less and less animal input, but we laugh, we are silly, and we have a good time while he directs us.
We ended up looking like we had a dinner party with Champagne and dessert. We will post some of the images on my Instagram account.
Christmas Day turned out not to be the quiet event I thought it would be, and I am grateful for the new friends keeping us company.
I can see Paisley, Gwen, and I will be great friends in the future.
Now the Mighty MacDougall Brothers?
I may have gained some rowdy Scottish men as dependable, loyal friends.
Forty-Five
