The local pub, which grounded Kingsbarns, was the meeting point for all major discussions, and had recently undergone a renovation when Harper, an American, hadcome to Kingsbarns thinking she was going to get a pub experience for a couple of weeks. Instead, she’d ended up with a boyfriend, a wee warrior kitten named Wallace, and a pub renovation on her hands. In the end, Kingsbarns had a refurbished pub, I had a new friend in Harper, and we’d all been happier for it.
I paused with a hand on the door, took one last lungful of cold wintry air, and went inside.
Warmth slid over me. The beams that crossed the ceiling were older than everybody in the room combined and were currently draped in tinsel the color of Christmas memories. Fairy lights looped along the bar mirror, turning the bottles that lined the shelves into their own pretty holiday display. The pub was doing a fairly bustling business tonight, with most tables filled, and I raised a hand as people greeted me.
Wallace was curled at the edge of the bar, his tail lazily batting a picture frame of Lewis, the former owner of the pub who had passed and left the business to his grandson, Reed. A dram of whisky sat in front of the stool left empty for Lewis, and a pang of nostalgia for Gran hit my heart.
I almost turned right back around, unsure if I was really in the mood to socialize, but going back meant the inn. The inn meant Noah.
“Skye!”
Of course.
Esther’s voice hit me like a snowball. She was at a table in the corner with the Book Bitches, who were as sparkly as the Christmas decorations that lined the windows of the pub. Three of them wore sequined hats, Shannon hadantlers on, and Cherise wore a jumper with a T-Rex decorated in ornaments.
Tree-rex,I read and smiled. Despite my mood I went over to them and looked at the damage they’d done on their table. An empty wine bottle was next to another wine bottle that was already half drunk, and five empty shot glasses were lined up like misbehaving children.
I pasted on a smile and slid into a chair because saying “no” to the Book Bitches is like saying “no” to gravity.
“Evening,” I said.
“Evening, she says,” Meredith murmured, eyes a touch too bright. “Look at her. That’s a woman who needs a glass the size of her face.”
Shannon shoved a glass toward me. “It’s a Malbec. It was a Merlot before that, and a respectable pinot before that, but the pinot couldn’t keep up.”
“What’s with the hats?” I asked, nodding at the sequined caps.
“You like? We’re trying something new.” Shannon tugged the brim and pulled it at a cheeky angle over her face.
Cherise pushed the mince pies across. “Eat. You’re peely-wally.”
“I am not peely-wally,” I lied, but I reached for a mince pie anyway. “I am … seasonally translucent.”
Esther’s eyes narrowed and then she smiled sweetly. “Rough day?”
“You know how radiators develop personalities? One became a soprano. Also, a guest used the microwave to dry socks.”
“Monsters,” Shannon said gravely. Her eyes cut sideways. “We heard a whisper.”
“Of course you did.” I sipped and glared at Esther who looked up at the ceiling. “What whisper, precisely?”
“That a certain man checked into your inn under the nameJohn Smith,” Meredith singsonged. “For all the songs he writes, you would think he would be more imaginative.”
“You’d think. But who cares, right? It’s not that big a deal,” I said, as if I hadn’t spent all evening pretending I couldn’t hear the weight of his footsteps upstairs.
“Mm.” Esther’s hum said she’d allow my delusion as a treat. “Well, if you want us to fight off the paparazzi when they arrive, we can.”
“I’ve been doing cardio kickboxing classes,” Cherise added. She flexed a somewhat wobbly arm. “From a YouTube class.”
“I’m good with kitchen shears,” Esther promised me.
“Good to know. Also, please don’t maim people,” I said, trying to change the subject from the one man I was desperately trying not to think about. “How’s the Christmas charity raffle going?”
“Better since we added Gregory’s calendar,” Shannon said cheerfully.
“You made Gregory do a calendar?” I choked. Gregory worked in the local government office and was an unofficial Book Bitch. He tended to wear beige sweaters and loved crossword puzzles.
“He insisted,” Meredith said. “He’s ‘Mr. January’ and ‘Mr. June,’ due to scheduling issues and the fact we liked those photos best.”
