Meet Me in Scotland by Patience Griffin

Emma felt swallowed up, claustrophobic. She had to make a run for it before she was asked to do something else that made her uncomfortable. First it was Gabriel insisting she fix Claire and Dominic’s marriage. Now it was the women of Gandiegow who wanted her to become one of them.
    Emma stepped away. She knew it was rude but she couldn’t get out of Quilting Central fast enough. Not even long enough to give Deydie and Bethia a proper goodbye or a nod of thanks for the dry towel and warm fire. She hustled to the door and went back out into the cold. Claire was the only real relationship Emma needed, and she wanted to keep it that way. Any more than that, and she wouldn’t be able to handle it.
    *   *   *
    Claire watched the timer in the flat’s kitchen, anticipating her evening. Her marriage might be a little sour right now, but nothing would stop the excitement growing inside of her. As she bent over the oven and pulled out the cranberry scones, Emma appeared, quite wilted. Claire gave her friend her best Scottish smile. “I’m so glad ye’re back. Can you adjust that cooling rack so I can set these there?”
    Emma shot her a quizzical frown. “Why aren’t you helping Dominic with the dinner prep? We always help Dominic. I thought that was one of your golden rules.”
    â€œNay,” Claire said, “not tonight. He’ll have to go it alone. I made you a sandwich. You’d better eat before we go.” She pointed to the refrigerator.
    Emma gave her a sidelong glance. “What do you mean,
before we go
? Why are you bailing on Dominic?”
    Claire shrugged.
    â€œYou two have argued before but you were still able to work together.”
    It did feel strange not to be downstairs in the thick of the dinner. But Claire had an important date tonight. She felt as giddy as if she’d landed a new prizewinning scone recipe.
    Emma motioned to the cooling pan. “And what is all this?”
    â€œScones.”
    â€œI can see that. But what about your other golden rule? Everything fresh-baked in the morning?”
    â€œOh, these aren’t for the restaurant,” Claire clarified.
    â€œThen who are they for?”
    She smiled. “We’re calling on Amy and Coll.” And baby William. She couldn’t wait to get her hands on that bairn.
    â€œAnd they are?”
    â€œThe MacTavishes. Gandiegow’s newest parents,” Claire confessed.
    â€œOh.”
    â€œDon’t look at me like that, Emma Castle. This is what we do in small towns. We take care of one another.” Claire pointed to the table where she had stockpiled canned food, vegetables, and baked goods. Yes, it was enough for twenty people, but Amy and Coll could use the provisions.
    That’s when Emma’s overall appearance registered with Claire. “What happened to you?”
    â€œTidal wave,” Emma said flatly.
    â€œWell, go change. We need to get going.” Claire stacked the warm scones into a basket as Emma left the kitchen.
    When Emma came back, she looked warmer, dressed in dark corduroys and a green sweater.
    â€œYour hair is still curly,” Claire pointed out. “I thought you hated it like that.”
    â€œI used the blow-dryer, but I need to wash out the salt water. I figured we didn’t have time for that.”
    â€œYou figured right.”
    Claire and Emma loaded the groceries into sacks and carried them down the stairs. When they got to the restaurant, Dominic trudged through the kitchen’s swinging doors, carrying a knife, cutting board, and prosciutto. Claire stopped breathing. Even after all these years, she still had it bad for her Italian meatball. For a second, their eyes met like they had thousands of times before—a recognition of the souls. But then Dominic masked his emotions and Claire could only see disdain. Or maybe it was disappointment. Either way it felt like he’d carved out a piece of her