"Once again we'd like to extend a welcome to all of you and thank you again for choosing Delta airlines. We have finished boarding anyone who needs assistance and now would like to extend an invitation for anyone in our First-Class Zone A to begin boarding."

Isabella looked wistfully over to the gate next to where several business travelers had stood up and moved towards the desk to scan their tickets. They still have 45 minutes before their flight to Tahiti would begin to board their seats in first class.

Next to her, Jake was nursing a tall black coffee. He had his arm lazily resting on her chair, one ankle resting on the other knee, sunglasses rested on the top of his head. Even though he was drinking the coffee, there was no sign of exhaustion on his face, no tired eyes or pale complexion.

Isabella on the other hand, felt exhausted. After their wedding yesterday and all of the time she spent taking care of Jake before attempting to pass out stuck in her wedding dress, she hadn't managed really any sleep at all. Her hair was in a messy bun on the top of her head and her face felt droopy and tired. She hadn't put makeup on because her eyes were dry and itchy and from some of her tears from the night before and she kept rubbing them. Jake had raised an eyebrow when he saw her but wisely kept his mouth closed.

"So close to a week on the beach, Mrs. Montgomery," Jake said, cupping one of her shoulders and giving her a small shake with a big smile.

Despite her sour mood, she cracked a reluctant smile at the site of his earnest dimples.

When she didn't have an exuberant response, his smile dropped fractionally. "Everything alright with you, babe?"

Isabella raised an eyebrow, the smile fading.

Was he seriously asking?

"I suppose you could say I'm not thrilled about the fact that you tried to drink yourself into oblivion on the night celebrating our eternal bliss."

Jake laughed, unbothered by her tone.

"That's bothering you? Sorry about that babe, but I don't usually throw up."

Again, Isabella raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, come on," he said with good humor, "I haven't since college."

"I'm sure that's not true."

Jake grinned and amended, "Well, okay, I suppose I haven't thrown up since you were in college anyway."

Again, Isabella raised a dubious eyebrow.

"I'm sorry I was occupied but it's not like it was a real wedding night, not really."

"What?"

"Oh, you know what I mean," he snorted, "It's not like we haven't been fucking for years."

Isabella's lips pursed in distaste at his crude phrasing.

"Come on Mrs. Montgomery," he said, hugging her into his side, ignoring her resistance. "Are you going to spend our one and only honeymoon annoyed at me for something so small? Even if I promise to make it up to you?"

~O~

Later that night, after some help from Jasper (who promised to be right behind them) in convincing his bride, the two of them wound up at Isles Inn.

Alice was at the bar to greet them when they entered.

"Oh! Thank Heavens yer here!" she exclaimed. Her ginger hair was twisted in a knot on top of her head with several strands escaping to frame her flushed face.

"Fiona got sick and Esme is still on her way back from Inverness. Bella, do ye know how to cook?" When Isabella did not immediately answer she added impatiently, "Anything? Do ye know how to cook anything at all?"

"Somewhat," she replied vaguely.

"I can help ye Alice, what do ye need?" Edward interjected.

"I need ye at the bar," she said and then nodded at Isabella, "And I need ye in kitchen. Somewhat will have to do."

"Alice, yer up to high doh, ye wee ba-"

"Coming," Isabella said, cutting off his Scottish tanget and moving behind the bar to follow her into the kitchen.

Edward growled under his breath but obligingly took his newly appointed place behind the bar. He had been looking forward to dinner with her after the nice afternoon they had shared at Sleat. Instead, he had somehow been doomed to an evening of customer service and no dinner in the immediate future.

He would occasionally hear some of his sister's directives from the kitchen. She was a bossy wee thing and always had been. His mother had called her personality "assertive," to put it lightly. While he could tell she was overwhelmed to be running the place by herself on a Friday, he did not appreciate her using any type of tone with Isabella and was about to go back and say something until he heard Isabella's crisp reply.

"When I said I somewhat knew how to cook, I did hope you would at least take that to mean I was competent enough to chop up a chicken without losing an appendage or ruining the meat."

Edward grinned when his sister did not have a discernible response.

There were a fair number of patrons coming into the inn, most of which were locals, though there was still a number of tourists who had braved the off season and were seeking refuge from the chilly weather at the inn. He poured their pints and their whisky, took down their orders for Alice and chatted with some of the locals. He even tossed a bone treat to Blaze, the fire rescue dog who was as much a regular as the best of them.

Alice popped out to bring out the food and grab the orders he had taken, a few more strands falling out of her bun every time she appeared.

"Yer not working her too hard, I hope?" he asked one of the times she passed by.

Alice rolled her eyes. "It's the opposite. Yer wife is as stubborn as a mule. Bossy too."

Edward shook his head at the way his sister could say such a thing as a compliment.

A new patron had taken a seat at the bar, so he went over to set a coaster in front of him. He recognized the older man with dark hair and a salt and pepper beard. He couldn't remember the name or why he knew him, but he looked familiar enough for Edward to give him a smile of recognition and greeting.

"What can we get for ye today?" he asked, setting down a coaster in front of him.

"The gold brew will do," he said, nodding to where the tap was.

Edward nodded and went to pour the pint of the local brew they carried. "Anything else for ye at the moment?"

The man shook his head as Edward sat down the drink in front of him.

"Heard there was a wedding here last weekend," he commented as he took a drink of the beer.

Edward, familiar with how news traveled in small communities, usually would be unfazed by this but given the sensitive nature of the topic, frowned at this comment. "Aye, Saturday."

"Does Isles host a lot of weddings? Can't seem to remember too many."

Before Edward could reply, Alice had popped out of the kitchen with a bowl of soup on a tray. "Edward, can ye take this to Mrs. Brown? Table 4?"

"Aye," he agreed, nodding to the man and then going to do as Alice requested.

It was a few minutes before he was back near the familiar but unknown man who had taken a seat next to the tap, making any encounters with him unavoidable.

"Yer Edward MacDonald?" he asked.

"Aye," he replied.

The man smiled and raised his glass slightly. "Ah, it was yer nuptials then. Congratulations to ye and yer wife are in order, are they no?"

"Thank ye," Edward said with a tight smile.

"It's been the talk of the isle for the entire week," he said with a chuckle.

Edward did not reply immediately but the man seemed to be waiting. "Aye, people certainly talk."

"Well can ye blame them?" he said good naturedly. "Skye's golden boy announces an elopement to an American woman no one on the island had ever seen before. Bound to stir up gossip."

"We're in the highlands," Edward replied, intentionally matching the man's tone. "Everything is bound to stir up gossip."

He chuckled. "Yer not wrong."

Edward scanned the bar area, hoping another guest would come up with an order.

"Why the suddenness?" he prompted after another sip of his beer.

"Pardon?" Edward asked.

"In yer wedding. Where did the rush come from?"

Edward had considered that he would run into this question beyond the night of his wedding when he had been able to largely escape it with a hearty laugh and handshake or hug.

"It had been planned for a while," he lied. "The decision to invite half the island was the last-minute decision. We were going to have a small ceremony until my aunt succeeded in her last-ditch effort to convince us to have a proper celebration."

"Ah," he laughed. "Yer aunt is a formidable lady."

"That she is," Edward agreed, turning to grab a discarded rag and started to wipe at the tap in an effort to politely indicate an end to the conversation.

"How did ye meet yer wife then?" he asked conversationally.

Edward could feel his shoulders tensing in annoyance but fought to relax them and continue wiping.

"What are the favorite theories on the island?" he asked.

The man laughed. "Oh, everything from a lost tourist to pixies. I would no say there is a clear favorite that has emerged just yet."

"It was a business trip to London with my da last year," Edward replied. Fortunately, he and his father had had to go down to London to meet with one of their larger wholesalers. It hadn't been a pretty conversation, as the seller had wanted to renegotiate rates as the economy slowed.

"What was she doing in London?" he prompted. "Where is she from in the states?"

Not only was Edward annoyed; he had been alert since the man had started asking questions. He leveled him with a stare, one which the man met evenly.

"Edward, honey?"

Both men looked behind his shoulder to see Isabella coming out of the kitchen. Edward almost laughed at seeing her hair in similar knot on top of her head, her sleeves rolled up to her forearms.

"Ah, hello mo leannan," he greeted her with a smile, recognizing immediately that she was intent on playing her part. She met his eyes and recognized the meaningful look he was giving her.

"Alice said I should come and introduce myself to Skye's sheriff," she said with a charming smile, looking at the man Edward had been talking to.

Baws.

That's why he was familiar.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Sheriff Miller," she said, confidently offering her hand to him to shake.

"Ye as well, Mrs. MacDonald," he replied, stressing the name in an odd way.

"The Sheriff was just asking about whereabouts yer from," Edward told her lightly.

Isabella didn't miss a beat. "Small town Pennsylvania," she grinned.

"And yet ye decided on Skye to settle," he said, a question in his voice.

Isabella smiled. "I'm not sure anyone could choose to live anywhere else after seeing Skye. Not to mention that the whisky is pretty good here," she grinned, playfully bumping Edward with her hip.

Edward chuckled and gave her a smile that he realized was entirely genuine.

Sheriff Miller emotionlessly watched the display from behind the rim of his glass as he took a swig.

"Pleasure to meet you, Sheriff. I better get back to your sister," she told Edward after nodding at the Sheriff. "She runs a tight ship in there," she added conspiringly.

Edward raised an eyebrow. "She said the same thing about you."

Isabella's only response was to wink as she turned and went back to the kitchen.

"Braw lass ye found there," he commented when she had left, still staring at Edward in that odd way.

"Aye," he agreed, running through the interaction again in his head. "Aye she is."

The sheriff soon finished his beer and left, but not before giving one final nod to Edward, a nod that seemed to indicate this was only the beginning of a series of conversations, conversations rooted in a notable amount of suspicion.

The last thing he and his pretend wife needed was suspicion.

Alice looked curiously over at the odd woman in the kitchen with her.

Her "sister-in-law" she supposed, making a face to herself as she put together a salad to toss. It was still something she had not gotten used to, nor quite frankly had she tried.

Perhaps odd wasn't the appropriate word, she conceded internally. She had to admit the woman was sharp and carried herself in a sort of respectable manner that indicated she was at least somewhat accomplished in some aspect.

And Alice could hardly say she was mean, she supposed.

However, she was a complete stranger with an unexplained attachment to Sleat who had shown up out of the blue and married her brother with barely two words in the midst.

So perhaps odd was the only appropriate word.

Still, they were married.

And it was in their family's interest that everyone on the island believed it. Alice had considered this in the time since their nuptials and was still confused on where her part in the whole mess was.

Conversation was her shaky conclusion. Conversation and potentially companionship. On an as needed and temporary basis.

"So," she started, hating the awkwardness in her voice. "How was that whisky?"

Isabella looked up from the mix she was stirring on the stove. Her face gave nothing away and for a moment, Alice wasn't even sure she herself had spoken.

"I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific," she replied wryly.

Alice chuckled despite herself.

"The whisky from Da," she elaborated.

Last week, Alice had stopped at her…well, what felt increasingly like Edward's home, after their wedding to get some of her things. Esme had suggested it might be nice if she stayed at the Isles Inn while the two of them "got to know each other."

She had seen the bottle resting on the table and recognized her father's handwriting and the year marked on the date. She knew she and her brother, Finlay, had similar bottles for them deep within Sleat that they would receive when they got married.

Isabella's face changed at that. Her brow wrinkled as she asked, "What?"

"Ye ken," Alice replied, "The wedding night whisky?"

Isabella's face remained puzzled.

Alice considered backtracking or just dropping the matter entirely. Why would Edward even retrieve the drink if he wasn't going to tell her what it meant to him? Why had she even thought conversation was a good idea in the first place?

"The day my parents got married," she decided against her better judgment to explain, "Da finished distilling the batch of whisky and left it in a cask for each of his children to share a bottle of with their partner when they got married."

Isabella's brow hardly smoothed.

Instead, she only seemed to lose the lovely rosiness in her cheeks.

Alice watched her curiously.

Of all the three of the MacDonald children, that gift of their father's certainly meant the most to Edward.

"He dinnae mention that to ye?"

Isabella swallowed visibly.

"No. No he did not."

Esme showed up about an hour or so after the sheriff had left and the dinner rush had started to die down. Edward smiled when he saw his aunt, though he immediately recognized that she was flustered for whatever reason.

"Hallo auntie," he said, kissing her cheek as she stepped behind the bar.

"Hello love," she smiled, kissing his cheek as she shrugged out of her overcoat. "How did you get roped into bartending on a Friday night?"

He explained that Fiona had the stomach flu and she hummed, distracted.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

Recognizing his concern, she touched his cheek tenderly. "Nothing for you to worry about, love."

Edward frowned as she disappeared into the kitchen to check on Alice and Isabella. He hadn't heard much noise coming out of the cooking space in the better part of an hour they must have at least come to some sort of truce.

Esme returned to the bar area as Edward was finishing up getting a patron change for his round of drinks.

"That was darling of the two of you to help out," she thanked.

"It was no a problem," he assured her. "Are ye sure there is nothing troubling ye?"

Esme sighed. "Merely a disagreement with one of my suppliers."

"Ah," he said knowingly, "Raising prices on you?"

"Just as they all are," she huffed. "But that is my problem, just as you have your own supplier headaches."

"Aye," he agreed.

Esme used the nearby dispenser to fill up a glass of water and take a sip, looking at him over the rim with her sharp green eyes.

"How have you and Miss Bella been getting along?"

Edward glanced over at the kitchen door before replying, "Well enough."

Esme waited with her eyebrows raised.

Edward thought back to their afternoon at Sleat with the radio and her lovely giggles. It had been the first time he had heard her laugh since their wedding.

It might not have been marital bliss, per say, but it was something.

"We are figuring it out," he said firmly.

Esme nodding, seeming contemplative.

"I know it is not my business, but I can't help my curiosity about her life in the States. Has she said anything to you?"

The grimace on Edward's face answered the question.

"I thought that may be," she said.

They were quiet for a moment before Esme opened her mouth.

"Does she remind you of your father at all?"

Edward raised his eyebrows, taken aback.

"What?"

"Bella," Esme repeated, "does she remind you at all of your father?"

"Does she for ye?" he asked, confused. The comparison had not crossed his mind, though they certainly both had characteristics that he admired in both of them.

The thoughtful look remained on her face as she nodded.

"She does. When you four came back to Skye."

"After Maw died?" he asked slowly.

Esme nodded. "I can't say that I can really explain the likeness. The best I can do is say that your father was still strong and stubborn when you children and Sleat needed him to be. But he was…distant, though I daresay there is a better word…withdrawn perhaps. Understandably so, of course."

"Of course," he agreed absentmindedly.

"I like the woman," Esme admitted. "She is intelligent and sweet. But you have to get it out of her, you know?"

Edward's expression clearly indicated that he knew.

"Of course you do," she said, chastising herself before continuing her contemplative line of thought. "There's just a heaviness about her. And if you can make her forget about it for even just a little bit, you get a lovely, lovely woman."

Privately, Edward had come to the same conclusion, but he didn't reply with more than a "hmmm," his thoughts being elsewhere, stuck on his aunt's previous comment.

His father had been mourning the loss of his wife. His partner. Half of his heart.

Who was his wife mourning?

Wishing you peace as you finish out a busy holiday season and the duration of 2019. I cannot wait to continue sharing this story that is so dear to me.

All the love.