Can't Tie Me Down! (Sinclair Sisters 1)

He handed the balloons to Keir, who foolishly took them instead of releasing them into the sky. They didn’t go through the doorway easily. There was at least five minutes of both men struggling to wedge them into the room, where they bobbed up to cover the ceiling, filling the room with hanging string. Between the flowers everywhere and the balloon-covered ceiling, it looked like Valentine’s Day had puked in the Sinclair household.

“Mairi,” Danny said, in a suddenly American accent. “This one’s from Derek.” Then he launched into a pretty good imitation of Josh McInnes’ crooning voice as he sang “Fly Me to the Moon.”

“See what he did there?” Sean said to Mairi. “Balloons and a song about flying. That’s not half bad.”

With a groan, Mairi moved her mug out of the way so she could rest her head on the table. There was a strange few minutes where no one knew quite what to do, other than listen to the tribute singer giving it his all at the front door. When he’d finished, Danny reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a piece of paper.

“I need to read this to you.” He cleared his throat. “Derek would like the honor of becoming your husband.” He looked over at Mairi. “What’s your answer? I have a different song to sing depending on whether it’s yes or no.”

Mairi groaned again, this time louder, and Keir swung the door shut in the guy’s face. On the other side of the door, Danny started singing “Heartbreak Hotel.”

Keir battled his way through the hanging string, stepping over vases filled with daises, and made it to the table. “I’m calling Gretna and booking us in. This has to stop. You can hardly move in here.”

“No. I’ll deal with this. I just need more sleep first.” Mairi’s eyes were closed.

“He’s a good singer,” Sean said. “Probably the best fake Josh McInnes money can buy.”

Outside the window, a male wailed, “Nooooooo.”

“Guess that’s Derek,” Sean said.

“Kill me now,” Mairi said, her eyes still closed.

Chapter 6

Gladys turned out to be one of the old folk living at the Campbeltown rest home, where Mairi volunteered two days a week, keeping the old folk occupied and stirring up trouble. When asked about it, she’d told Keir that she was the unofficial entertainment director, and Gladys was her assistant. The tiny woman stood outside the double doors of the nondescript nineties thrown-up building, flanked by two old men. As Keir pulled his SUV up in front of the building, he noticed that someone had taped a new sign over the brass plaque that told everyone the building was Robertson Rest Home. It was now the Robertson Singles Club.

Keir looked over at Mairi, who was waving at Gladys. “Singles club?”

“I wanted to call it the Underground Sex Club, but I was outvoted. Apparently, they can bed-hop like a bunch of randy, immoral teenagers, but they can’t tell the world about it. Double standards, if you ask me.”

Keir shook his head. It had been years since he’d spent time in Mairi Land, and he’d forgotten that it took some getting used to. As soon as the car stopped on the gravel road, Mairi was out and rushing to Gladys. The old woman was a good head shorter than Mairi, which was saying a lot, because Mairi barely made it over five feet. The two women embraced each other like long-lost friends, and Keir smiled at the sight. This was his Mairi. The reason he couldn’t walk away. When she wasn’t holding a grudge, or doing something insane, she spread sunshine wherever she went.

“Keir, come and meet Gladys,” Mairi called to him as he rounded the car.

He walked over and held out a hand, and Gladys ignored it. Instead, she kicked him in the shin. His jaw dropped as the woman looked up at him.

“That’s for running out on our girl,” Gladys said. “Been wanting to do that for years.”

Mairi beamed at her. “Thanks.”

“If I were ten years younger, I’d deck you,” the taller of the two old men said.

Keir looked him up and down. He was a matchstick wearing a three-piece beige suit, and this threat was nothing more than wishful thinking.

“It’s lads like you give the rest of us a bad name,” the other man said.

This one was the same height as Mairi, wore his trousers pulled up to under his nipples, and had a two-hair comb-over.

“Do you tell everybody you meet about the night I ran out on you?” Keir asked the still-beaming Mairi.

She nodded enthusiastically. “Every single person.”

Gladys, who wore a purple tweed dress, thick beige stockings and heavy black shoes, reached up and tugged at the curly gray wig on top of her head to straighten it. “The boys want to come too, seeing as it’s my last appointment. Is that okay?”

“The boys?” Keir arched an eyebrow at the men.

“That’s Albert.” Mairi pointed to the tall, stretched one. “And that’s Reggie.”