Doon

such meticulous care of my late aunt’s legacy.

Addie clasped Vee’s hand in both of hers and gave it a shake. Rather than let go, she lingered, staring with narrow, speculative eyes. “Allyson didn’t tell me you were so … passionate.”

The way she said it—almost like another word had been on the tip of her tongue—made me wonder what she meant. She finally let go of Vee’s hand and focused on her shirt. “You’re a dancer, I see.”

Vee nodded but crossed her arms over her chest self-consciously as I stepped between them. “Sorry, you caught us in our pajamas.”

Addie nodded politely, as if wearing pajamas instead of real clothes was a valid life choice. She pulled a sleek black binder from her designer bag and extended it to me. “Then I’ll just leave this paperwork with you and scoot to my next appointment.”

The “paperwork” was to transfer Dunbrae Cottage into my name. As Addie handed me the documents, her eyes widened. “Is that your aunt’s journal?” When I nodded, she covered my hand, and the book, with her own perfectly manicured fingers. Her touch, cold but gentle, zapped me with a shock of static electricity. “I could’ve sworn that it was boxed up in the attic with the rest of your aunt’s personal effects. How ever did you come across it?”

Vee stepped forward. “I found it in the library. With the books on Scotland.”

Addie arched a thin, perfectly sculpted brow. “Did you now? How very peculiar. I must say, that is a most fortuitous discovery.”

Since we were on the subject of my aunt’s belongs, there was another item I needed to locate. I cleared my throat and Addie turned to me, unleashing a bright smile the exact replica of her daughter’s. “Yes, dear?”

“Uh, my aunt had a green vase that she kept in the library. Do you know what happened to it?”

“I expect you’ll find it in the attic with the rest of Mrs. Lockhart’s personal effects.” She cast a quick glance in Vee’s direction before continuing. “However, if you don’t, I’d consult wee Veronica here. She seems to be particularly clever in the area of finding hidden things.”

With a friendly wave, Addie strode away on her stylish shoes. The minute her candy apple red Mini Cooper roared down the lane, the skies opened up. Cold droplets of rain pelted the earth in an angry staccato, making me anxious to get back to the sanctuary of the library.

As I closed the door, Vee asked, “Do you still want to go down to the Brig o’ Doon today?”

“In this monsoon?” I shook my head. “We’ve got two whole months to play tourist. What I really want is to find Gracie’s vase before we meet Ally tonight.”

“What a coincidence.” Her eyes flicked away and back, but not before I noticed her tracking the journal. “Because I was just thinking you might want to go through your aunt’s things sooner rather than later.”

Although Vee’s words made sense, and my aunt’s belongings did need to get back in their proper place, I worried her suggestion was some kind of ploy to separate me from the journal. I wouldn’t keep it from her forever, just long enough to read it myself and determine if the contents would help or hurt her obsession with Kilt Boy. But in the meantime, I needed her out of the way so I could hide the book. “While I’m doing that, maybe you should take a shower?”

She hesitated, her eyes flicking again to the book in my hand. “I think I might try to take a nap first … I feel like I’m still suffering from jetlag.”

A nap would work as well, but I wasn’t kidding about her needing to bathe. Tucking the journal into my waistband, I replied, “Get some rest then. I’ll wake you up in plenty of time to get clean and pretty for our first evening out in Alloway. Unless you want to show up at the tavern smelling like Stinking Beauty. But if you do, I can guarantee no kilt-wearing hottie is going to come within fifty feet, let alone kiss you.”

CHAPTER 4 Veronica

Ye all ought ta be verra careful as ye traverse these hallowed roads this eve … or risk goin’ the way o’ Old Meg and lose yer own tail!”

With a flourish of his blue-veined hand, the old man finished his recitation of the Tam o’Shanter to raucous cheers and applause from the crowd. His shriveled face, covered in brown spots, reminded me of the dried-up crabapples that littered our backyard in Indiana. Strike that—Janet and Bob’s yard in Indiana. Grasping my mug of ale, I took a huge swallow, the bitter liquid coating my tongue and flowing in a warm path down to my stomach. With the back of my hand, I swiped the foam from my upper lip and glanced across the table at Kenna. Her auburn hair caught glints of light in the otherwise dim tavern as she bounced in her chair applauding the old actor’s performance. I envied her ability to live in the moment, enjoying every experience without the encumbrance of her past or any worry for her future.

Earlier, when she’d woken me from a three-hour nap, I’d felt like somebody’d roofied my tea. My brain spun with the local legends and folklore I’d read the night before, desperately trying to make some connection to my waking visions. Even now, as I sat shoulder to shoulder with Kenna and Ally at the old Tam O’Shanter Inn, Jamie clung to my thoughts like Spanish moss. I couldn’t help but wonder when he would show up again.

I let my gaze wander to the low beamed ceiling and the walls darkened with three centuries of smoke and grime. This place was straight off the pages of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. A perfect backdrop for an ethereal visitation. Then again, on closer inspection, the eighteenth-century pretense didn’t quite hold under the harsh flicker of electric torches and our server’s neon-pink gym shoes peeking out from under her peasant skirt.

Returning my attention to the occupants of our cozy corner table, I watched Ally lean back in her seat, eyes half closed, soaking in the atmosphere. Kenna, on the other hand, craned her neck, her back hunched at an odd angle as if she were searching for something she’d dropped. “Hey, Ken, did you lose something?”

“Nope, just looking for hobbits.” She straightened with a lopsided grin. “Doesn’t this place remind you of the Shire?”

I barked out a laugh, the mouthful of ale I’d just swallowed in danger of spewing out of my nose. “I was thinking Sleepy Hollow, but yeah, I can totally see Bilbo here.”

Ally laughed along with us and then raised her pint in salute. The flame from the candle on our table reflected on her bejeweled piercings, making her appear more elven or fairy than girl. As if choreographed, the slow strains of live bagpipes began to underscore her toast. “To Mackenna and Veronica and the beginnings of a marvelous new adventure. May new worlds be opened to them, and no matter where they roam, may they be vessels of something greater than themselves.”

“Here, here.” Ken and I clinked our glasses to hers before taking long drinks. My head began to feel like a balloon floating on a string. I turned to ask Ally if we could order some mozzarella sticks, or the Scottish equivalent, but her next comment swept away all thoughts of food.

She leaned forward, the sparkle of her emerald eyes eclipsing her facial jewels. “Now friends, are you ready to hear the real legend of the Brig o’ Doon?”

“Didn’t we just hear it?” Kenna asked before turning her attention back to the small stage where a fiddler joined the song, kicking up the tempo.

With a quirk of her perfectly arched brow, Ally caught my eyes. “The Tam is but a child’s tale. I’m talking about the true history of the Bridge of Doon … and what waits on the other side.”

The image of Jamie MacCrae swayed before my eyes, his boot-clad feet firmly planted on an arch of gray stone, his deep, rolling voice calling, “Verranica … Come to me.”

Ally’s rosebud lips quirked into a surreptitious smile before her intense gaze shifted to something behind me and she waved. “Alasdair! Come meet some new friends of mine from the States.”

The wizened old man approached our table and inclined his head in an old-fashioned gesture of respect. “Ladies.”

“Won’t you join us for a pint, Alasdair? My friends here were wantin’ to know more about the Brig o’ Doon.”

“Certainly.” He took the seat across the table from me, rubbed his white-stubble-covered chin as he