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Erica laughed when I said that. "Like you MacTaggarts ever worry about being rude to each other. It's a family pastime, though you guys do it with love and affection, not nastiness. So go on, meddle in the lives of your brothers and sisters. I'll help."
"No, you bloody will not. And I bloody will not either."
"Okay, okay. Calm down, honey, it was just a suggestion."
I gave up on discussing the topic with Erica after that, since she has barmy ideas about meddling, ideas only a woman would dream up. Though my sisters seem happy enough, my two brothers are not. Rory survived three failed marriages, though none of us knows exactly what caused those relationships to fail. It must've been awful, that's all I know. A few months ago, Rory informed everyone, at a family gathering, that he will never marry again.
He really should know better than to say that in front of the women in our family.
Naturally, my mother and sisters have decided to play matchmaker and help Rory find a wife.
I might be on board with that plan if they weren't so blatant about it. Ma keeps arranging for Rory to "accidentally" bump into eligible lasses whenever he leaves his castle to venture into Loch Fairbairn or Ballachulish. Those are the only places he wants to visit these days, and he doesn't leave the castle compound very often.
As for Aidan… Well, he suffered a major setback six months ago, but I'm sure he will bounce back soon. My youngest brother has never been married, though he loves to flirt with the lasses. That's why everyone calls him Don Juan MacTaggart. I know the incident six months ago has changed him, but I don't realize how far off his head he's gone until the day he comes to visit me and Erica at our farm.
Aye, we're growing vegetables, and we have dairy cows too.
Getting back to Aidan, the eejit announces his ridiculous plan while Erica and I are enjoying lunch with him in our kitchen.
"I need a holiday," he says. "Thought I'd go to America. Chicago, to be precise."
"Chicago?" I say, probably sounding more shocked than I intended. "Why the bloody hell would you want to go there? You hate the city, any city. I remember when you graduated university and declared you would never leave the Highlands again because three years in Edinburgh was too much."
"I'm older and wiser now, aren't I?"
"Like hell you are." I bar my arms over my chest and aim my sternest glare at him. "You're twenty-eight, Aidan. That's not old enough to be wise. What is the real reason you want to take a holiday in Chicago?"
He squirms and contorts his mouth, as if he's sitting on the sharp tip of a rusty nail. "Well, ah, I sort of thought…"
When he trails off, I huff. "Spit it out, laddie."
"Donnae be calling me laddie, unless you're wanting me to shout 'Lachie is a cradle robber' in the middle of the village." He winks at Erica. "You're much closer to my age than to this old man's."
"Haud yer wheesht, Aidan," I all but growl.
"If you want me to explain my plan, I cannae shut up. Aye?" He smirks when I roll my eyes. "Now, about my plan. You found a bonnie, sweet wife in Chicago, and I'm so much sexier and more entertaining than you. I'm thinking I can find a wife there too."
"Chicago has millions of people in it. The biggest city you've ever seen was Edinburgh, which has half a million."
"Aye. That's why I know I can find a wife in America."
Eying my brother with suspicion, I squint at him. "Is there more to your daft plan?"
"Of course." He grins. "I plan to visit the same club where you met Erica."
"What? No, you will not."
"Ah, I see. It's good enough for you, but not for me." Aidan clucks his tongue. "Uptight and a hypocrite. Careful, Lachie, you're almost turning into Rory."
Though our conversation continues after that, I give up on trying to talk Aidan out of his brilliant plan. He called it brilliant, not me. I think his recent calamity has knocked him off his axis, and he's desperate to find his equilibrium again. Can't blame him for that. Maybe a trip to America will help him move on.
So I agree to lend him the jet Rory and I recently bought, so he can fly to Chicago without having to deal with airlines and security checkpoints and all that rubbish. If my brother means to take a holiday across the pond, I will do whatever I can to ensure he doesn't get in too much trouble. But I've given up on convincing him not to visit Dance Ardor.
Instead, I decide to do to him what he often does to me—play a wee joke on him.
While we stand on the tarmac at the Inverness airport, beside the jet, I clap Aidan on the shoulder and tell him, "There's something you should know about that club. Every Friday is kilt night at Dance Ardor."
"Really? The lasses love me in a kilt."
