Doon

as she tilted her head. The sun reflecting in her dove gray eyes reminded me of when we’d first met, and I’d asked her if she was an autumn fairy. She’d said yes and that I could be one too. We’d been best friends ever since. I knew I could tell her anything, but right now the words wouldn’t come.

So I forced my thoughts away from Golden Boy, took a sip of cinnamony chocolate, and changed the subject. “Was your dad still acting weird before you left?”

“Oh yeah, he kept hugging me and telling me how he’s proud of me and knows I’ll make the right decision.”

“He didn’t try to have the sex talk with you before you jetted off to the land flowing with legal ale and hot boys in kilts, did he?”

She snorted, causing several customers to turn in their seats and stare. “No. It’s a little late for that anyway.”

“Wait. What?” I leaned forward and lowered my voice. “Did you and your leading man from Seussical … you know?” I wiggled my eyebrows.

“Me and the Cat in the Hat? No way—he doesn’t even play for my team. I was talking about Weston.” My blank stare prompted her to clarify. “The hot associate director from my internship.”

Her audition in Chicago had happened months ago. I knew she thought the associate director was cute, but she’d never said anything about hooking up with him. “Ummm. Did you guys—”

“No—I mean, not yet. But who knows? We totally shared a moment after my audition.” She rummaged around in her bag, pulled out her phone, and shoved it under my nose. “Here’s Weston’s picture. Talk about tall, blond, and yummy. And he included a handwritten note in my acceptance page about how he couldn’t wait to start working with me in August. His penmanship was so …”

I didn’t hear the rest; the image of my own golden-haired dream boy filled my head, eclipsing everything else.

“Earth to Vee … Did you hear what I just said?”

“Sure. The pedophile director was hitting on you … yada yada yada.” I pinched off a piece of scone, the buttery layers and sugary-yet-tart strawberries melting on my tongue. “Mmmm! This is amazing.”

“Even better than Mrs. Russo’s, right?” She slapped a hand over her mouth, no doubt realizing she’d mentioned Eric’s mom. Her voice filled with apology. “Sorry. It just slipped out.”

I tightened my stomach, bracing for the wave of pain—that never came. Instead, a lazy, enigmatic grin filled me with an overwhelming yearning that I’d never felt for my ex. Maybe Golden Boy was my subconscious’s way of helping me move on?

“It’s no big deal. I mean, Eric’s betrayal was … a big deal, but …” I sat up straighter as I struggled to put my thoughts into words. “What I mean is, Eric’s ancient history. He has nothing to do with Scotland or my future.”

“What you need, my amiga, is a rebound guy. Some totally random Scottish hottie to get you over Eric.” Kenna clapped her hands and bounced enthusiastically in her seat, having no idea how close her comment was to my fantasy.

She pointed, not so discreetly, toward the dark-haired boy wiping down the counter. “What about that cute barista? When I gave him my order, he couldn’t tear his eyes off you long enough to even acknowledge me.”

I scrunched up my nose, resisting the urge to count his numerous visible tattoos. “I don’t know …”

Kenna noticed that her exuberance had drawn the attention of the other patrons, so she leaned forward and whispered, “Commence Operation MacHottie. I am sooo gonna be your wingman.”

I stuffed the rest of the scone into my mouth before answering. “Just because you’re saving yourself for Weston doesn’t mean you can’t have a summer fling too.”

“Right. I can just picture exotic boys falling at your petite feet, while I get pity dates with their ogre sidekicks. No thanks.”

I marveled at how clueless Kenna was to her appeal. She’d been turning heads since fourth grade, yet she acted as if she was invisible to guys. Like that was remotely possible.

“Next to your curves and coloring, I look like a member of the Lollypop Guild.” I pursed my lips to the side and squinched up one eye.

She hooted a laugh. “Keep making that face and they might make you an honorary munchkin.” She grabbed her bag and fished a tip out of her wallet. “We should go. The caretaker, Mrs. Dell, will be meeting us at the cottage soon.”

I licked my finger and dredged it through the crumbs on my plate before popping the sweet morsels into my mouth. “Sure. Just let me get a bag of those scones to go.”

“That’s my girl.”

When I was six years old, my dad took me to see a rerelease of Disney’s Snow White. Every day for weeks afterward, I searched the woods behind our house for the seven tiny men and their little cottage, all while evading the evil queen and her huntsman. With childlike conviction, I knew my prince would come and that good would ultimately triumph over evil.

Dunbrae Cottage, with its rounded gables, thatched roof, and wild English garden, was surrounded by the same sense of magic, and it made me long for the girl I’d once been, the one who believed fairy tales could be real. But that naive faith in happily-ever-after had been ripped from me long ago.

Removing a pile of pajamas from my suitcase, I crossed the bedroom to the antique cherry dresser and placed them inside. Kenna had slipped into the hall to talk to her dad; he’d called to make sure she’d made it safely to Alloway. For some reason, that simple, loving gesture hit me hard. Maybe it was because I hadn’t heard a peep from my mom in the last twenty-four hours.

“Seriously, Vee. You do realize these come in movie form?”

I whirled to find Kenna sitting on the bed, sorting through the books covering the bottom of my suitcase. “Besides, when are you going to have time to read these anyway? We’re on vacation.”

I walked over and gathered a stack of paperbacks topped by a tattered copy of Pride and Prejudice. They were my most prized possessions, procured from yard sales and thrift stores over the years whenever I had a few dollars to spare. No way was I leaving my treasures home with Janet. They’d end up as kindling in the backyard fire pit.

With the care of a mother tucking in her babies, I lined the volumes up on the dresser in alphabetical order. “Reading helps me fall asleep.” And not feel so alone. But I didn’t say that as I turned back to the suitcase and found Kenna bouncing lightly on the bed, clearly over the book conversation.

“So, what do you think of the place?” She stilled, expectation widening her eyes.

“You were right. It’s just like a fairy tale. A better setting than anything you and I ever dreamt up for our plays.” I scooped up a few more books and placed them on the nightstand, making sure the spines were perfectly aligned.

“The Reid-Welling Production Company! I totally forgot.” Kenna’s storm-colored eyes glittered with remembrance.

As kids, we’d fashioned costumes from the old clothing and junk, creating our own world of make-believe. “You were quite the little drama queen, even then,” I teased, remembering how she would jump up and down and clap her hands in excitement every time I’d tell her about a new play idea, no matter how simplistic or sappy it was. I’d been content to take the supporting role—male lead, ugly stepsister, wicked witch, or whatever was required—as long as she liked my stories.

“And you were quite the storyteller. Must be all that reading you do.” She waved her hand and spat the word out like it disgusted her as she walked over to the dresser and picked up a small, antique-looking clock. She turned it over and began to fiddle with the back.

“What are you doing?”

She flashed me an expression of impatience. “Setting the clocks ahead, silly.”

“Why?” I had to hear this.

“So we won’t be late for anything. You know how I hate being late.”

I loved my friend but sometimes her logic confounded even me. “You could just try getting ready earlier.”

Cutting me off with a shake of her head, she set the clock down. “Doesn’t work.”