Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
News traveled exceptionally fast on Glenvulin. Every local who had seen us this morning had come up to ask after our well-being. The break-in had put everyone on alert. “We’re all good, thank you.”
Janice seemed to sag with the release of tension as she turned to London. “And are you enjoying the games?”
“Yeah, it’s kind of insane and wonderful all at the same time.”
We chuckled as Janice offered, “Aye, I bet the wailing sound of the pipes must take some getting used to.”
“Actually, we have the Tartan Day Parade in New York to celebrate Scottish heritage. Pipe bands march through the streets of the city. It’s incredible. I always liked hanging out of my balcony, watching them go by.”
“Do you have Scottish heritage?”
“I do. We’re Scottish on my dad’s side. My great-great grandfather was Scottish but my dad was never really into exploring his ancestry. Too busy saving lives.” There was a bitter note in her words that only Cammie and I picked up on.
“Oh?”
“He’s a neurosurgeon. Mom’s a cardiothoracic surgeon.” London gestured toward the strawberries they were selling. “Those smell amazing.”
Janice went with the subject change. “Take some, please. Let me get you a carton. Do you girls want anything else?”
I smiled to myself at her use of the word girls, as if we were teenagers. With the awkwardness over between Quinn’s mum and me, I let myself relax.
After we all had a small carton of strawberries to munch on, the three of us wandered past the other stalls, listening to pipers practice before their events. As we crested the hill toward where the caber tossing had been set up, Cammie asked London, “Have you heard from your parents recently?”
London snorted. “No. The last time I spoke to them, they pretended like they knew Nick was an asshole all along—note that was after he got arrested for insider trading, not after I told them he’d beaten me and threatened me not to leave him. I told them I wasn’t coming back to New York—they got mad and said I was cut off financially. I got mad and told them they were cut off entirely. We haven’t spoken since.”
Anger boiled in my blood. London might be able to relay these facts with a blasé casualness born from years of neglect, but her parents infuriated me. My mum would have walked through fire for me. London’s parents might be renowned surgeons, but I held nothing but disdain for arseholes who procreated out of ego and then abandoned their child from the get-go because their work was more important.
“Good.” Cammie wrapped an arm around London, giving her a quick squeeze. “You don’t need those fuckers. Also, I hereby disown your father as a Scot.”
London almost choked on a strawberry as she laughed.
Affection for Cammie warmed me. Quinn’s sister and I might butt heads over her brother, and the introvert in me found her bluntness uncomfortable sometimes … but Cammie would walk through fire for the people she loved too.
For a while we marveled at the caber tossing, making inappropriate comments about some of the bulging calf muscles and biceps on display. London was more than bemused when she saw the length of the cabers—long logs.
“Okay, what the hell is happening right now.” She waved a strawberry, gesticulating toward the competitors. “I’m distracted by the kilts and muscles and beards, so I have no idea why these guys are putting their lives in danger throwing massive logs. Is it to see who can toss it farthest?”
“No.” I shook my head. “First, they’re called cabers. It derives from the Gaelic cabar, which means a wooden beam.”
“That is a log, not a beam, and it’s huge. These dudes are insane.”
Chuckling, I continued, “Okay, see how they lift it from the base … they have to keep the caber perfectly upright, run a few steps and then toss it so it flips end over end. It should fall directly in front of the tosser. Closest to an absolute twelve o’clock position scores highest.”
London grinned at me. “I know you think you’re making it make sense, but it doesn’t make sense.”
Cammie leaned in. “Thank goodness you missed the hammer throwing.”
I laughed, feeling a lightness come over me as we stood together, bantering and enjoying the flipping of kilts as cabers were tossed.
“I thought no underwear?” London pouted comically, making us laugh harder.
Soon, however, Cammie insisted we return to the main area of the games for more food and drinks. It was another humid day, despite the cloudy sky, and the mugginess was making my hair stick to the back of my neck.
“Next games, I might set up a stall,” London mused as we stood to order at the deli stall. “I’m kind of in my savory pastry era. I think they’d go down well here.”
“Eh, absolutely,” Cammie agreed.