Chapter 27
Kitt
Turns out women are allowed in the Kings Castle after all. If you’re marrying the head of the family and demand the gorgeous, renovated meeting space for your wedding reception.
I apologized profusely to the girls about the porta-potty situation, but the women of the island were so thrilled with getting to see the inside of the cathedral, they didn’t care.
We’ve changed some things around to prepare for the celebration. And we need all the space we can get; these Scots love to party.
The pews no longer sit in aisles, but their wood has been shined to a gleam as they lean against the walls, sashes of flowers and pink ribbons lovingly tied to their arms, creating a space in the center of the room, a resting place for dancers and the elderly to watch the ceilidh as it gathers energy.
Sun shines through the brightly colored stained-glass windows, lighting the festive place. We’ve set up bar-top tables with sets of barstools, creating spaces for couples to canoodle. There are large circular tables with chairs set for dinner, and a makeshift bar’s been set up, all covered with soft pink linens—courtesy of Fiona, my decorator.
I’m getting pretty good. Eamon’s been teaching me. Learning the steps is one of the most fun things I’ve ever done. Eamon says at weddings, almost all the dancing is in groups, the steps known to everyone. I can’t wait to put all my practice to use tonight.
There’s one difficult conversation I have to get out of the way before I can enjoy this magical celebration.
I find my mother by the bar, ordering a Champagne. “Mom. Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“There she is! My lovely bride.” She pulls me in for a hug. “You looked so gorgeous up at that altar. You and your handsome groom. What a pair.”
“Thanks.”
Nervous to start, I ask a few questions about her new house, about Joe, who I met for the first time at the rehearsal dinner last night, hosted by Crank and his father at the Hobgoblin. Joe seemed a nice enough man with a full head of dark hair, but a quickness to discuss money matters that put me off. I ease into asking about the policeman who had contacted her.
Trying to be brave is being brave.
Finally, I say, “You pinned the death on Lilly to clear my name.”
“Why does it matter? The girl is dead. Why ruin your life? She was the one who bought the drugs, Kitt. Not you.”
“I know…”
Mom says, “I only did what I did to protect you. You would have done the same for your own daughter.”
When she leaves here, I probably won’t see her for years. And that’s okay. I’ll keep the clothing she bought me as a fond memento from our last ever shopping trip together.
We’re just two different people but we are similar in that we will protect those we love. I just might go about it in a slightly different way. And my daughter will never, ever feel my rejection.
Not wanting to disrupt the peace between us, I don’t mention my college fund, the one that mysteriously disappeared. It was her parents” money anyway.
I forgive her, watching her go back to Joe. She looks happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for her.
The band settles in, complete with fiddle, accordion, and bagpipes. With the upbeat traditional music playing, the islanders begin their dancing in full swing.
I stand, brushing my hands together. “Welp, that’s done. Let’s party.”
Overhearing me talking to myself, something he’s become quite used to since we moved in together, Eamon grabs my hands in his. “That’s the spirit! Come on, sis, let’s have a dance.”
He grabs my hand, tugging me to the dance floor. “Alright,” I say, “but while we’re at it, let’s practice your lines.”
“Aww! Don’t be a killjoy, Kitt,” he protests. “It’s your wedding night.”
I smile and wave as we pass through the people to the dance floor. “Aye. And tomorrow night is your opening night.”
“But you’ve made me do the lines a hundred times already. It’s only the playhouse in Glasgow.”
“And tonight will be one hundred and one times. There are no small stages. And there will be no unprepared actors. Let’s go.”
Holding up a pint in cheers as Eamon and I breeze past the bar, almost to our destination of the dancing, DI Collins gives me a wink from under his bushy brow. He teases, “Save a dance for me when you’re done dancing with your cousin.” Fully in on the truth now.
All of the truth.
He was so grateful to the clan for nipping a potentially massive issue for the island in the bud before Clive Smith could unleash the darkness of the Hoax onto the island.
Will there be repercussions for the Kings? Payback from the Hoax?
We have yet to find out.
But our men will be ready.
I’m not a shrinking rose like I was that night with my wrists in chains. I’m a mafia wife now. And I’m ready to wear my crown. Carol Ann’s insisted on perching a white diamond tiara on top of my dark curls, my long veil pinned to the back.
Bayne comes over, stealing me from Eamon just as he’s finished a perfect delivery of his lines from scene one, and there’s not a hint of jealousy in my husband’s beautiful blue eyes. “May I take my wife off your hands, brother.”
“Aye, she’s all yours. Congratulations, again. To both of you.” Eamon offers me a chaste kiss on my cheek, heading off to find another young woman to dance with.
My husband of approximately one hour takes me in his arms, guiding me across the dance floor, the poofy skirts of my big white dress swishing around the soles of my feet as we twirl. Ribbons run down the bodice-style top of my dress, shimmering under the dim lights.
I’ve never felt more beautiful. I’ve never felt happier. As he stares into my eyes, I know…
I’ve never been more loved.
The End