merchandise. “Wow, the owner of this business has Mary Beth’s flare for packing in tons of stock without it looking like chaos.”
“If we don’t find a match to your ferrule or sporran here, then matches may not exist!” Alice admitted, impressed by the selection. “Here we go!” She stepped up to a display of pins, cuff links, belt buckles, and brooches. Within seconds, Annie heard Alice muttering in turn as she scanned the display, “Lions … fish … knotwork … stags… swirls. No birds.” Alice picked up a pair of cuff links for a closer look. “Here’s some thistle, I think. But no juniper.”
Annie was perusing a table with a sign bearing the words “Sgian-Dubh.” The surface was covered with daggers of different sizes and materials. “Quite a few thistle designs on these …” she pointed at the sign, “well, whatever that word means. They look like daggers to me.”
“It’s pronounced ‘skeen do,’” a woman said as she stepped through a gap in the tent wall. “It means ‘black knife.’”
“We’ve been admiring the range of your merchandise,” said Alice.
The woman’s wide smile drew crinkles into the corners of her hazel eyes. “That’s what it takes to be a good and true kilt company. Is there any way I can help you?”
Annie showed her the ferrule. “We’re looking for information about the design on this ferrule. Do you carry anything like this?”
The woman studied it intensely. After a motionless pause, she answered. “No, I’ve never carried a design like this one. Our shop carries all the most popular designs.” She handed the ferrule back to Annie. “This must be a custom one.”
“We suspected as much,” said Alice. “Thanks for confirming it for us.”
“Always pleased to help.” The woman smiled again. “If you are interested in kilt making, by any chance, you won’t want to miss Brianna Kincaid’s demonstration. She does several sessions throughout the day.”
Annie nodded and began to speak when she noticed a sporran hanging on the back wall behind the woman. From her vantage point it looked identical to the one from the attic. “Excuse me, I just noticed that sporran. May I take a closer look?”
Startled, the woman’s eyes swung over to the sporran in question. The sealskin was almost identical to Annie’s, but it was the clasp design that had caught Annie’s attention. “The sealskin? I’m not allowed to sell them in the U.S.” She went to the wall and took the sporran off the hook. “The vast majority of sporrans used to be made of sealskin, but the Marine Mammal Protection Act changed that tradition. I like to display it as a nod to the past.”
“Is the clasp design juniper?” asked Alice.
The woman chuckled and touched the metal. “You mean the cantle? Yes, it’s juniper.”
The two friends tried to tamp down their excitement. “I found a sporran with the same design in my grandparents’ home.” Annie reached into her bag to retrieve a photo and handed it to the woman. “Would it be from the same clan as yours?” she asked calmly.
The woman looked at the photo and then shrugged. “Juniper is the badge for several clans. There’s no way of knowing which one of the clans it belonged to.”
“Oh.” Annie’s smile faded a bit. “Well, thank you for the information. We’ll certainly try to make one of the kilt demonstrations.”
The woman returned the sporran to its place. “You won’t regret it. Enjoy your day.”
Annie and Alice stepped out of the tent and walked several yards away before beginning their discussion. They didn’t see the woman step to the entrance of the tent, gazing after them. Or how she pulled out a cellphone and made a call, following their progress until they were out of sight.
7
At 10:25 the female contingency from Stony Point met at the MacTavish tent and then wound their way through the crowd to a long, narrow field bordered with spruce, pines, and oak trees, where the falconry
“If we don’t find a match to your ferrule or sporran here, then matches may not exist!” Alice admitted, impressed by the selection. “Here we go!” She stepped up to a display of pins, cuff links, belt buckles, and brooches. Within seconds, Annie heard Alice muttering in turn as she scanned the display, “Lions … fish … knotwork … stags… swirls. No birds.” Alice picked up a pair of cuff links for a closer look. “Here’s some thistle, I think. But no juniper.”
Annie was perusing a table with a sign bearing the words “Sgian-Dubh.” The surface was covered with daggers of different sizes and materials. “Quite a few thistle designs on these …” she pointed at the sign, “well, whatever that word means. They look like daggers to me.”
“It’s pronounced ‘skeen do,’” a woman said as she stepped through a gap in the tent wall. “It means ‘black knife.’”
“We’ve been admiring the range of your merchandise,” said Alice.
The woman’s wide smile drew crinkles into the corners of her hazel eyes. “That’s what it takes to be a good and true kilt company. Is there any way I can help you?”
Annie showed her the ferrule. “We’re looking for information about the design on this ferrule. Do you carry anything like this?”
The woman studied it intensely. After a motionless pause, she answered. “No, I’ve never carried a design like this one. Our shop carries all the most popular designs.” She handed the ferrule back to Annie. “This must be a custom one.”
“We suspected as much,” said Alice. “Thanks for confirming it for us.”
“Always pleased to help.” The woman smiled again. “If you are interested in kilt making, by any chance, you won’t want to miss Brianna Kincaid’s demonstration. She does several sessions throughout the day.”
Annie nodded and began to speak when she noticed a sporran hanging on the back wall behind the woman. From her vantage point it looked identical to the one from the attic. “Excuse me, I just noticed that sporran. May I take a closer look?”
Startled, the woman’s eyes swung over to the sporran in question. The sealskin was almost identical to Annie’s, but it was the clasp design that had caught Annie’s attention. “The sealskin? I’m not allowed to sell them in the U.S.” She went to the wall and took the sporran off the hook. “The vast majority of sporrans used to be made of sealskin, but the Marine Mammal Protection Act changed that tradition. I like to display it as a nod to the past.”
“Is the clasp design juniper?” asked Alice.
The woman chuckled and touched the metal. “You mean the cantle? Yes, it’s juniper.”
The two friends tried to tamp down their excitement. “I found a sporran with the same design in my grandparents’ home.” Annie reached into her bag to retrieve a photo and handed it to the woman. “Would it be from the same clan as yours?” she asked calmly.
The woman looked at the photo and then shrugged. “Juniper is the badge for several clans. There’s no way of knowing which one of the clans it belonged to.”
“Oh.” Annie’s smile faded a bit. “Well, thank you for the information. We’ll certainly try to make one of the kilt demonstrations.”
The woman returned the sporran to its place. “You won’t regret it. Enjoy your day.”
Annie and Alice stepped out of the tent and walked several yards away before beginning their discussion. They didn’t see the woman step to the entrance of the tent, gazing after them. Or how she pulled out a cellphone and made a call, following their progress until they were out of sight.
7
At 10:25 the female contingency from Stony Point met at the MacTavish tent and then wound their way through the crowd to a long, narrow field bordered with spruce, pines, and oak trees, where the falconry
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