Kilt Dead (36 page)

“What?” The look on his face now was slightly worried.

“Nothing. Just a stray image. You as a big cat”

“You’re picturing me as Lumpkin?” Startled, he shifted
away, as if he wanted a little distance to take a good look
at her. In the process he bumped against the woman sitting on the other side of him. “Sorry, ma’am”

From the row behind Liss and Dan, Sherri Willett stuck
her head between them, bringing with her a faint whiff of
the flowery perfume she saved for special occasions. Ordinarily, she smelled only of Dove soap and mint toothpaste. “Dan as Lumpkin? Really? When he’s biting ankles
or when he’s catching mice by sitting on them?”

Fighting laughter, Liss tried to rein in the images flooding her mind. Lumpkin was the large yellow neutered tomcat she’d inherited along with her house. Like most felines,
he acted as if he owned her rather than the other way around. Sometimes she wasn’t too sure but what he had
the right of it.

“I said big cat, not fat cat,” she protested.

“No, wait. I can see Dan as a pussycat,” Pete Campbell chimed in. He was Sherri’s brand-new fiance, having popped the question just three weeks earlier, on
Valentine’s Day. Like Liss, Pete had Scottish roots and
had long taken an interest in Scottish festivals, Scottish
music, and Scottish athletics.

“Meow,” Dan said. Then he leaned in to whisper in
Liss’s ear. “Does this mean I get to sleep with you?”

“On my feet, or curled around my head?” she whispered back, listing two of Lumpkin’s favorite spots.

The lighthearted bantering reminded Liss that she was
attracted to Dan for more than his looks. He was fun to be
with.

He was also steady. Reliable. Safe. She frowned at the
last word choice, wondering why she should have thought
it, and why such a sterling quality sounded just the slightest bit, well, stodgy.

The life she’d led before returning to Moosetookalook
had been unpredictable. Exciting. Occasionally unsettling
and even a little scary. She’d traveled all over the country
with a ragtag band of free spirits. She still missed those
days and now, right here at home, her old company had
come to her. As the lights in the auditorium dimmed to
call stragglers to their seats, she finally answered Dan’s
original question.

“You want to know about Strathspey? Think Riverdance, only Scottish.”

“Yeah, I got that part, but-“

“Shhh! It’s about to start” Liss’s very mixed feelings
about being in the audience instead of on the stage returned in a rush. Dan knew some of what she’d gone
through when she’d learned she could never dance pro fessionally again, but he didn’t really understand. No one
but another performer could grasp what it meant to be denied a means of artistic expression.

As soon as the lights were down, taped music swelled.
Just that quickly, Liss was back in the past, waiting in the
wings, ready to go on. She could almost smell the rosin
that kept their dancing shoes from slipping, and the dust
that clung to the theater curtains, and what they still called
“greasepaint,” even though modern cosmetics had long
since replaced old-fashioned stage makeup.

Liss’s breath hitched. Someone else was back there
now, palms just a bit sweaty, heart racing in anticipation.
She forced herself to watch as the curtain rose and a slim
blonde of medium height stepped out onto the stage. Her
name, according to the program, was Emily Townsend.
As Liss once had, she led the rest of the company in the
country dance that opened the eighty-minute show.

She was good. Very good. For just a moment, Liss
hated her guts.

Then the magic of Strathspey caught her in its spell.
As well as she knew the production, it still had the power
to tug at her heartstrings. Loosely based on stories told by
Scots who’d migrated to America, the plot wove together
all the traditional Scottish dances-from reels to a sword
dance-but they were performed within the tale of a
young woman separated from her lover during the infamous “Highland Clearances” of the mid-eighteenth century. At that time, many Scots were deprived of both
home and country. Families were rent asunder, friends
scattered. In this retelling of history, however, the two
sweethearts were reunited. The piece ended happily, with
a wedding.

Strathspey was a celebration of Scottish-American
heritage, moving and exhilarating. As the first number
segued into a tune performed by the company’s featured
vocalist, a soprano, Liss relaxed and began to enjoy her unaccustomed role as a spectator. She’d never fully appreciated how well the dancers looked when seen as a
group, or how nicely the occasional song-sometimes in
Gaelic, sometimes in English-augmented the visual display. When the lone piper performed “Flowers of the Forest,” she had to wipe tears from her eyes.

Without comment, Dan passed her his handkerchief.

Liss had only one bad moment-the point in the program where she had taken the misstep that had ended her
career. She caught herself wincing even as Emily Townsend
sailed through the routine unharmed.

Of itself, the injury might not have been so disastrous,
but it had come on top of years of high-impact activity, all
of which resulted in accumulated damage to both knees.
In common with other athletes, dancers didn’t expect to
keep at their profession until a normal retirement age, but
Liss had assumed she’d be able to perform until she was
in her forties. Her career had ended at twenty-seven.

Oh, stop the pity party! she admonished herself as she
rose with the others to applaud at the end of the show.
You’ve got a new life now

As if to prove it, Sherri Willett reached forward again
to touch her arm. “I’m so glad you invited us to the show.
I’ve never seen anything quite like that”

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“It was wonderful!” Sherri clapped louder as the performers, faces slightly flushed from their exertions but
wreathed in smiles, came back out on stage for a final bow.

Apparently the rest of the audience agreed with Sherri’s
assessment. Someone whistled approval and, from another
part of the auditorium, Liss heard the rhythmic stomp of
boots, a clear sign of approbation in this part of the world.

When the applause finally died down, Liss turned to
collect her winter coat from the back of her seat. Everyone else was doing the same. The March night had been
clear and cold when they’d arrived at the campus theater, but there had been the smell of snow in the air. Even those
staying for the reception had dressed for the weather and
now donned coats, scarves, gloves, and hats over warm
and practical indoor clothing.

Standing, Liss towered over her petite blond friend.
She was accustomed to that. At five-nine she’d almost always been one of the tallest females around. Half the
time she was also taller than most of the males in the
vicinity. Dark-haired, dark-eyed Pete Campbell was fiveten, but he had a tendency to stoop.

As Dan, who stood a refreshing five inches higher than
Liss did, shrugged into his heavy woolen topcoat, she gave
herself another little lecture: Chin up. Smile. Think positive.

Her nervousness roared back with a vengeance, far
worse than the case of jitters she’d suffered through that
afternoon. She thought again that she should have found
someone to work for her at Moosetookalook Scottish Emporium, the store she co-owned with her aunt, Margaret
Boyd. She should have been here in Fallstown to greet the
members of Strathspey when they arrived on their tour
bus. She’d arranged rooms for all of them, but she should
have settled them in herself, made sure there were no
problems. Instead she’d left them to their own devices.

Sherri would have filled in for her. She worked at the
Emporium part time, when it could be managed around
the schedule of her full-time job as a corrections officer
and dispatcher at the county jail. Or Liss could have closed
up shop for the day. It wasn’t as if March was their busy
season for walk-in sales. She’d had only one customer all
afternoon.

As they made their way out of the auditorium, jostled
now and again by the crowd, a blast of cold air reached
them through the open outer doors. Had she warned everyone that they’d need warm clothes? Of course she had. And they knew that already. This wasn’t the only northern New England gig on their tour.

Stop fussing! she ordered herself They didn’t need you
around earlier.

In fact, she’d probably have been in the way. Everyone
in the company had their own pre-performance routine. It
did not include taking time to visit with former co-workers.
There would be ample opportunity for that now that the
show was over.

“You okay?” Dan asked in a voice so filled with concern that she wondered what he’d read in her face.

Liss nodded and continued her silent pep talk as they
slowly closed the distance to the exit. She’d survived the
first challenge. Only two more to go. Next up was the reception for the entire Strathspey company. That shouldn’t
be too bad. Lots of chatter. Good food. Everyone in a sociable mood. But at the end would come challenge number three. She was taking two members of the company
home with her. Two of her dearest friends would be in
residence until Monday morning when they left on the
next lap of their current tour. Liss wondered if she would
be able to convince them that she was content with a life
in which she stayed in one place, managed a gift shop,
and would never again set foot on a stage.

Dan Ruskin was rural Maine born and bred. He’d gone
as far as the University of Maine’s Orono campus to pick
up a bachelor’s degree but had returned to Moosetookalook
to work for his father right after graduation. He didn’t
consider himself a hick. He’d attended plays and concerts
before … but never anything like Strathspey. He still
wasn’t sure what he’d just seen. If pressed, he supposed
he’d call it a variety show.

As they walked from the building that housed the the ater to the Student Center where the reception was to be
held, he watched Liss carefully. At first casual glance she
looked just as she always did, a tall, slender, graceful, selfpossessed brunette with a flair for wearing scarves and
bright colors. Her winter coat was vivid green.

But this evening she was unaccountably nervous. She
betrayed herself in little ways-periodically curling a
strand of her dark brown, shoulder-length hair around her
index finger; tugging repeatedly at the bottom of the black
velvet vest she wore over a lace-trimmed white blouse. In
honor of the occasion she had selected a new outfit from
the stock carried by Moosetookalook Scottish Emporium.
She wore the blouse and vest with a full-length plaid
skirt.

Tartan, he corrected himself. The pattern was called
tartan. Personally, he didn’t see what the big deal was, but
apparently some Scottish-Americans got all bent out of
shape if you used the “p” word.

“You okay?” he asked again, keeping his voice too low
for Sherri or Pete, walking just behind them, to hear.

“Just dandy.”

It was hard to tell by the security lights that illuminated the pathway, but Dan thought her changeable bluegreen eyes looked worried. The too-bright smile and the
hint of panic in her voice also betrayed her state of mind.

What was the big deal? She’d worked with most of
these people for eight years. Why should she be nervous
about seeing them again? She ought to be excited. Happy.
Dan was tempted to lump her behavior together with all
the other things a man would never understand about the
way a woman’s mind worked, but something told him the
answer wasn’t that simple.

The Student Center at the Fallstown branch of the University of Maine had a large function room available for
social gatherings. A few months earlier, Dan and Liss had attended their tenth high-school reunion there. He hoped
this evening turned out better than that one had.

A glance at his companions told him Sherri and Pete
were probably thinking the same thing, but Liss clearly
had other matters on her mind. The bright lights inside
the building showed him that she was worrying her lower
lip with her teeth. What next-wringing hands?

“Liss, if you don’t want-“

“Hang this up for me, will you?” She slid out of the
ankle-length wool coat and just as neatly slipped away
from him before he could manage a reassuring touch. By
the time he’d located the nearest coat rack and found
hangers for Liss’s coat and his own less stylish garment,
one of L. L. Bean’s Maine Guide jackets, she’d vanished.

At his questioning look, Pete shrugged. “Said she
wanted to talk to the Scone Lady. Make sure everything is
all set with the refreshments “”

Janice Eccles, aka “the Scone Lady,” was a baker from
the nearby village of Waycross Springs. She specialized
in scones, a particular weakness of Liss’s. Together, Janice and Liss had come up with a new recipe especially for
this reception: cocktail scones. Dan had sampled the prototype. They weren’t bad but in his opinion were nothing to
write home about, either. Liss had disagreed. She might
not have seen any of the members of Strathspey since
she’d left the company, but she had stayed in touch by
phone and email. She’d sent word to several of her closest
pals that they were in for a new taste treat at the Fallstown
reception.

Liss rejoined Dan, Sherri, and Pete some ten minutes
later, by which time the function room was filling up nicely.
She was just polishing off one of the flaky pastries, another sign she was nervous. Liss considered scones the
ultimate comfort food.

“Everything in order?”

“Couldn’t be better.”

“Uh-huh. Listen, Liss-“

“Sandy!” Eyes alight-they flashed more green than
blue-she waved at three members of the Strathspey
company, two women and a man, who had just entered at
the opposite side of the room. “Zara! Over here”

The man heard and waved back. He hadn’t bothered
with a coat and was still in costume-unless he went
around in a kilt all the time. Dan recognized him, both by
his jet black hair and his outfit, as the “romantic” lead in
the show. From the looks he was getting from the women
in the crowd, females apparently found him attractive. He
did bear a faint resemblance to Sean Connery in his James
Bond days, and Dan had it on good authority his sister
Mary-that Connery was “to die for.”