desk drawer and pulled out the completed form declaring her candidacy for Highland mayor. It was time to turn it in. The paper trembled in her fingers. The point of no return. Would Anna be taken seriously or laughed out of city hall? Would anyone vote for her with Loretta running too?
After doing a quick change into streetwear, she was on the sidewalk in the sweltering noonday sun. The Highland city offices were located at the far end of Main Street in an old, white-columned house surrounded by blooming crepe myrtle trees. It was picture-postcard perfect.
She passed the Brown Cow, but didn’t stop for her usual pick-me-up coffee. Caffeine would make her nervous jitters even worse. The jangle of the door sounded behind her, but she stayed focused on her destination. Iain fell into step next to her, his khaki utility kilt swinging over mud-spattered work boots.
“May I beg a word, Anna?” His voice was oddly formal considering their recent interactions had consisted of him playing nursemaid and binge-watching TV together.
“Cattywampus.”
His mouth opened then closed, and he blinked at her before shaking his head. “Pardon?”
“You begged for a word, and I gave you a word. It means ‘off-kilter.’”
“Cattywampus.” Said with his burr, the word took on a new life. “I like it. The Scottish have a multitude of funny words.”
“Like what?” The city offices grew closer with every step, and she was pathetically grateful to have Iain as a distraction.
“Bahoochie.”
A smile tipped her lips despite her nerves. “Can you use it in a sentence?”
“‘Get yer bahoochie out the bed, laddie!’ I heard that one almost every morning from my da.”
“Your backside?”
“Exactly.” His smile was nostalgic and full of love for a person and place that seemed long gone, but she knew still existed.
The brick storefronts of downtown ended with a line of trees, signaling the start of old houses that had mostly been converted into doctors’ offices or law firms with family homes peppered in between. As Highland grew, Anna anticipated most of the private homes would slowly be converted into business spaces, although some of the old guard of Highland opposed the idea of losing any more homes along the thoroughfare.
It was sad to think of the family history mortared between bricks and hammered in the planks being lost to the bustle of progress, but the change would bring revenue which could be reinvested in Highland’s current citizens. Anna envisioned a special loan program for new businesses or the town could even host a competition to award funds to the most promising start-ups.
“Where are we going?” Iain asked.
“City offices.” She pointed toward the wooden sign hanging in the front of the house. “I need to turn a form in.”
“Has it got something to do with the festival?” He peered toward the paper she held, and instead of acting casual, she whipped it behind her back as if he were trying to cheat off her.
“It’s a personal matter.” She kept her voice cool, hoping he’d get the hint to leave well enough alone.
He didn’t. “Has it got something to do with the studio? Are you in financial straits?”
“The studio is doing well.” She ground to a halt and stared up at him. No breeze rustled the branches overhead, so even though it was shady, they were like Hansel and Gretel shoved into a witch’s oven. Haltingly, she said, “If you must know, Dr. Jameson is retiring, and I’m going to run for mayor of Highland.”
She braced herself for shock or, even worse, laughter. Neither emerged. He merely nodded. “I understand now.”
“Understand what?”
“The animosity between you and Loretta. She’s threatened by you.”
“By me? I’m the young, wild, upstart with no experience. She’s got the advantage.”
Iain smoothed his beard and tilted his head to study her with his usual intensity. It had stopped rattling her, and she’d come to appreciate his ability to focus. “Does she? You’re well-liked, quick-witted, stubborn, and full of ideas.”
She refused to admit how much his assessment bolstered her confidence. “How do you know I’m full of ideas?” she asked.
He raised his errant eyebrow. “Aren’t you?”
Anna harrumphed. “I’ve got a few percolating, but I’m not sure if the general population will appreciate them. Loretta especially. She can be so close-minded and old-fashioned.”
Iain shrugged. “She’s lost control over certain aspects of life—like getting older with still unfulfilled dreams—and therefore needs to seize the reins of control over the parts of her life she can. Plus, I think she’s lonely. Her husband has been gone a long time now, hasn’t