Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
S pace and perspective were a pair of double-edged swords. Somehow , after everything, Grace found the ending of her book. It came to her fast and hard, sneaking up like an orgasm, as her fingers flew across the keyboard. Her characters were finally being honest with each other, of all things, and it was somehow exactly the ending she’d been searching for.
When she was finished, she sent it to her agent without stopping to run spellcheck—better to let objective critics have the first pass than to second-guess herself into oblivion and another missed deadline.
After a few minutes, the euphoria wore off and she just felt sad. She’d given her characters the ending she wanted for herself.
Bryan had suggested she write about the love between friends, and so Maya and Blake , who started off as rivals irritating the stew out of each other, had become the best of friends. In the end, their platonic love had developed into something more, and the two teens were planning for futures that would include each other, while Grace and Bryan were preparing to go their separate ways.
In less than a week, she and Wes would climb aboard Teàrlach’s plane having accomplished what they came here for. But in light of what could have been, finishing her novel felt almost hollow.
She couldn’t stop wondering how Bryan was holding up. Wes had mentioned running into him and reminded her about the welcome reception for his investor, but she’d conveniently dodged questions about his picketing neighbors. What would the investor do if they arrived to find a hostile crowd surrounding his beautiful home with torches and pitchforks?
To take her mind off the fact that her brother still hadn’t texted her back after his game-ending injury, or maybe just to torture herself about her impending departure, she went for a walk down the beach, eventually winding up outside Bryan’s backdoor. A faint smokiness from last night’s bonfire still tinged the salty sea air, tugging at her heart. Would she ever smell smoke, or even Band - Aids , again without remembering him and longing for his whisky-flavored kiss?
Without stopping to overthink it, Grace made her way up to the patio and tapped hesitantly on the back door. There was no answer, but a sudden urgency to see the finished house came over her. Of course, she could wait until the reception tonight, but Grace wanted a private viewing, where no one could observe her in a state of overwhelm.
She tried the handle that he never seemed to lock and let herself in. The scent of him overpowered any new construction smells—his soap, his cologne, his whisky. It was intoxicating, and tears stung her eyes.
A tea mug still sat on the kitchen counter alongside his ever-present tablet. Grace drew her fingers over the smudges of his fingerprints, as though she could touch his hand, and the screen woke up, showing a document he’d been working on.
As a writer, she knew better than to read it. That would be the utmost invasion of privacy. She absolutely wouldn’t do that. But as she turned away, her eye caught a word here and there and a flicker of recognition lit inside her brain.
It was his speech to the town—the one she’d offered to help with—the one she’d told him to write from his heart.
Licking her lips, she pulled the tablet closer. This was merely a professional courtesy, no more an invasion of privacy than him reading her published work, right? He’d been open to help from her once, after all.
And it was a great speech, deeply heartfelt and one thousand percent Bryan . Whispering it out loud to herself, her ears snagged on tricky turns of phrase, on the B ’s , P ’s , S ’s , and glottal stops that might trip him up if he was nervous.
She changed the stylus color to blue and made a few suggestions and tweaks in the margins, little things to make it easier for him to read, without altering the underlying message. At the end she added a quick note.
I hope you don’t mind the edit. The words are as perfect as the house—just a few ideas to help it flow.
She took the worry stone out of her pocket and set it beside the tablet. The beautiful rainbow-colored stone had served her well, but this was a big day for Bryan . He might need it more.
I found this stone when I needed it most. If you get nervous, just hold on to it and know that I’m so beyond proud of you.
There was a knock at the front door, and her head shot up guiltily.
She crept to her old bedroom to peek out the window. It wasn’t anyone she recognized from town. They were wearing a slick suit with shiny shoes, a rolling briefcase at their side. It had to be his investor, but where the heck was Bryan ?
Grace opened the door to the sharply dressed stranger, who smiled broadly and said in a posh Scottish accent, “ Don’t tell me I’ve got the wrong house. I’m looking for Bryan MacNeil .”
“You’ve found him,” Grace replied. “ Err , his house. He’s out just now. Please , come in.”
“Och, I got an early ferry,” they said, shaking short shaggy blond hair out of their eyes. “ I did text to let him know. Jules MacRae .”
“I’m sure he’ll be back soon. Would you like some tea?” Grace asked, thinking quickly. She couldn’t mess this up for him.
“Please. Milk , no sugar. Thanks .”
“I’m Grace ,” she said, setting about to make the tea as she’d seen Bryan do, what felt like a million times by now.
“American?”
“Yes. Just visiting. Bryan’s been the consummate host.”
“Is this the proof of concept?” Jules asked, looking around and holding up their phone to snap pictures.
“It is,” Grace said, feeling rather proud of the sunny, cozy cottage.
“It’s adorable.”
“And completely off-grid. He installed solar panels on the roof. All the electricity in the house is run off the solar cell, and I think there’s a cistern to collect rainwater.”
While the kettle heated, Grace led Jules through the house, pointing out everything she knew about the work Bryan had done. He’d laid new flooring in the spare bedroom since she and Wes had left and put down a cheerful rag rug. Seeing it all again made her throat catch.
Jules was particularly impressed by the bathroom, and Grace did her best to explain how the greywater reclamation process was supposed work.
“That view,” Jules breathed when they entered the living room with their tea and stood before the gorgeous wall of windows staring out at the ocean.
Grace opened the door, and they strolled down to the beach, past the smoky remnants of biochar.
Jules inhaled deeply. “ Oh , that’s nice. Not peat?”
“No. Bryan will have to explain it, but he’s been experimenting with sustainable ways to get the same smokiness without the environmental impact.”
“I’d say he’s hit on just the thing,” the investor murmured. “ You’re his associate?” The question was casual, and for a moment Grace wondered what they might be to each other besides hopeful business owner and potential investor.
“Tenant,” Grace said. “ Briefly . I helped a little.”
“I’d love to see before and after photos.”
“That I can do.” She’d seen Bryan taking pictures on the tablet as work progressed.
“I’m impressed. You don’t know what time he’ll be back?”
“I don’t. I’m sorry. I only stopped by for something I left behind,” she half lied. “ Would you like to see the rest of the island? I could point out some of the spots he mentioned as potential building sites?”
“That’d be grand.”
Grace texted Elspeth to pick them up from the pub in the island cab, then led Jules down the beach to avoid the possibility of picketing neighbors.
When El pulled up outside the pub, she gave Grace an assessing look before opening the door to help Jules into the cab for their grand island tour. Thankfully , she didn’t say a word about Grace and Bryan , just added local color with stories about the places Grace pointed out as they circumnavigated Barra .
“I have to ask the elephant in the room,” Jules said during a lull. “ How do the residents feel about the disruption a distillery might bring to such a tranquil place?”
El snort-coughed but didn’t comment further.
“Oh, you know,” Grace hedged. “ It’s human nature to fear change, but I think they’re coming around to it. They actually seem to thrive on excitement.”
She eyed Elspeth , who held her gaze steadily in the rearview mirror, and Jules nodded as though understanding completely.
They stopped at the pier for a long while to let Jules admire the castle as though the rest of Scotland wasn’t chock full of them.
“Too bad the distillery can’t go there,” Jules said. “ That would be brilliant.”
Grace laughed nervously. “ Yeah , too bad.”
Finally, Elspeth coughed and said, “ I don’t want to rush you, but you don’t want to be late to your own party.”
“Party?” Jules asked, perking up.
“Oh god, the reception,” Grace said, checking the time on her phone. There were a dozen missed calls and messages, all variations on a theme.
Where the hell are you?
It’s almost time for the reception
Have you fallen off a cliff and died?
Seriously tho you haven’t right?
Grace?!
OMG text me or else!!!!!!!!
Are you ACTUALLY going to miss Bryan’s big day?
Grace shoved the phone in her pocket and tried to swallow her butterflies as Elspeth guided them back to the car.
“It’s sort of a reverse housewarming, really. For you and the town. Maybe don’t tell Bryan I already gave you the tour,” she added, wrinkling her nose. She hadn’t meant to steal his thunder. She only wanted to help.
She texted Wes a quick apology, explaining about the investor.
Three dots appeared for the longest time, then went away. Finally , Wes messaged back.
Well thank fuck for that. Your boy was in a tizzy thinking his investor must have also wandered off and fallen down a well. See you in a few.
The short drive back to Bryan’s felt interminable, as Grace’s butterflies turned into roaring 747s. Hopefully Bryan wouldn’t be angry at her for hijacking his investor. Or letting herself in and messing with his speech. When would she learn not to meddle? If she’d wanted to help, she should have chased the picketers away.
Fortunately, they were nowhere to be seen when Elspeth pulled up alongside her grandfather’s old house, so thank you for small mercies.
Wes, of all people, met them at the door. “ Jules ?” she asked. “ Thanks so much for coming. Bryan’s in the kitchen.”
At the sound of his name, Grace’s stomach did an embarrassingly large backflip.
“You go in too, El . Have a cold one. People are posting up out back,” Wes added magnanimously. Bryan’s little sister grinned and traipsed in behind Jules .
But when Grace made to follow them, Wes stopped her, a look of mild panic in her eyes.
“What is it?”
“You’re a little underdressed.”
“They weren’t dressed up,” Grace pointed out, but Wes gave her a look. “ Okay , Jules was, but El was wearing jeans. You ’ re wearing jeans.”
“I don’t make the rules!”
Grace looked down at her own leggings and hoodie.
“Are you really saying I can’t come in because of how I’m dressed?” she asked, noting that while Wesley was wearing jeans and Eòghann’s old sweater, she did have on makeup for maybe the second time on this trip.
“Of course not. Come on,” Wes said, grabbing Grace’s hand and practically dragging her inside, straight to the bathroom.
“Bryan doesn’t really seem like the dressy type. Why would he want everyone to get gussied up when he’s trying to show the town how down to earth he is?”
“You think you know a person,” Wes agreed, shutting the bathroom door behind them.
There, hanging on a hook, was the prettiest dress Grace had ever seen—in real life or her imagination—and she immediately burst into tears.
“Oh shit,” Wes said. “ Good tears or bad tears?”
Grace couldn’t speak. The dress was a deep, inky purple, with gems sprinkled across it like stars in the Milky Way , and a big full skirt like a Cinderella ball gown. It was a quinceanera dress. It was the quinceanera dress, exactly as she’d envisioned since the age of eleven, exactly as she’d drawn it a thousand different times, exactly as she’d described it in her first novel.
“How?” she whispered.
“Your man is resourceful. And apparently Auntie Eilidh is a wizard.”
Grace reached out to run her fingers over the gorgeous fabric.
“I don’t understand,” she whispered, though she was starting to.
Wes shrugged. “ Happy double quinceanera?” she said hopefully, and Grace started full on sobbing.
“Okay, I can see now that the Stoic Scot might have been right about asking you first instead of springing this on you,” she said, rubbing Grace’s back.
“I’d have said no,” Grace replied, gazing through unstoppable tears at the gorgeous, perfect dress.
“I know. Please don’t be mad.”
Grace grabbed her friend and wept into her shoulder. “ I’m not mad.”
“Then get all your tears out so we can start on your makeup.”
* * *
When she finally emerged from the bathroom dressed up like a Mexican princess, Grace was met with another shock.
“Diego!” she squealed, in a pitch she didn’t know she could reach, not quite sure this wasn’t all some bizarre back-to-high-school dream. In another moment, she’d be naked and late for a geometry exam.
Her big brother smiled sheepishly, and she threw her arms around him, full on crying once more. It definitely wasn’t a dream, he was real and warm and solid.
“God damn it, Bryan , we just did her makeup. You couldn’t warn a girl?” Wes yelled.
“What are you doing here?” Grace gasp-laughed at her brother.
“Double quinceanera,” Diego said, his voice strained. “ I know I’m not Papi , but will you let me present you, Gray ?”
More crying. Wes was going to kill her.
“You look so beautiful,” Diego whispered, and she shoved him away, then pulled him back for another tight hug. “ God , I’ve missed you, manita.”
“Missed you,” she agreed. She hadn’t let herself realize quite how much she missed him until now.
When she finally stopped crying and caught her breath, Wes tried to retouch her makeup before Diego led her out the living room door to the porch, which was positively covered in white and silver and pearl pink balloons, as well as a large, star-shaped pinata. He led her down to the beach, where the whole town started to cheer.
Bryan emerged from around the side of the house, dressed up all dapper in his kilt and vest, and Grace’s knees almost went weak. Both he and Wesley were grinning like anxious idiots, despite the presence of his parents and sisters and cousins. She wanted to jump into his arms, to make sure he knew how much she cared and then demand just how exactly his reception, his moment, had turned into a party for her. Before he got close enough, Eòghann stepped between them and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
“You look amazing,” he whispered. “ Don’t be mad at them.”
“I could never,” she said.
Next, Bryan’s mother squeezed Grace’s hands and whispered, “ Happy birthday,” without any awkwardness over having sold Grace a vibrator just a few days before, and then Great Aunt Eilidh pushed in, grinning wickedly as though she knew all about the vibrator, though maybe it was just because of the gorgeous dress and the rhinestone tiara she placed in Grace’s hair.
“Thank you,” Grace whispered, trying not to descend into tears a third time.
Taking charge as usual, Cait clapped her hands for attention. “ We have tamales and polvorones,” she said, glancing to Grace for confirmation of her stilted pronunciation and gesturing towards dozens of powdered sugar cookies. “ And my daughter will be devastated if her homemade pinata is still intact by the end of the night, but first—dancing!”
At Cait’s cue, Lùcas joined some other boys beside the patio, where they had a few guitars and a drum kit set up, and they began to play “ Party ” by Bad Bunny , which made Grace laugh.
“You need dancing shoes,” Diego said, taking a knee to slip a pair of strappy heels onto her bare feet. Then he offered his hand for a dance.
“How are you here?” she whispered, fighting yet another round of tears.
“MacNeil called. I came.”
“Simple as that?”
“Simple as.”
“Don’t you have a game Wednesday ?”
He shrugged. “ I’m marked uncertain on the injury report.”
“I knew you were favoring your right knee. How bad is it? Why didn’t you text me back?”
“I was in the middle of a secret mission. I’ll be fine,” he said, hugging her close like maybe he needed it just as much as she did. “ Will you?”
“I think I accidentally fell in love with your friend,” she admitted, and it felt good, and also terrifying, to say it out loud.
“I think he accidentally did too,” her big brother whispered. “ He’s a good dude, but if he hurts you, I’ll kill him and dump his body in the ocean.”
She laughed at the old threat and rested her head on his shoulder, with a pang of sadness for the distance that had grown between them and the rest of their family, but also with a swelling heart for this gift Bryan had given her, Diego right here in her arms.
Then his cell phone rang.
“Seriously?” Grace teased, as he fumbled for it, a little surprised when he accepted the call instead of turning off the ringer.
But then he held the phone down to her, and there were her parents, one on each side of the screen, all the way from sunny Pensacola and La Vicenta .
“?Feliz cumpleanos, bebita!”
“Happy birthday, my beautiful girl!”
Grace, of course, started crying again, but her big brother was there with his arms protectively around her. They spoke for a few, all too brief minutes, and when they hung up, Diego squeezed her tight.
“Are we going to dance, or what?” she asked, wiping her eyes and snatching a powdered cookie off the table.