Highland Chances - a heart-warming Scottish comedy (SAMPLE ONLY)

The woman on top

"Happy six-month anniversary, hon! Here's to you!"

A raised champagne glass came toward me on the screen, contents gently fizzing. I clinked back; my own glass filled with sparkling apple juice instead. It was early Tuesday afternoon, after all, and I was supposed to be working.

"And you! Can you believe we've been married this long... Seems like only yesterday that I was Gabrielle Amelia Richardson, spinster of Great Yarmouth, weeping and wailing and wondering if I would ever meet the man of my dreams."

Slight sarcasm there, but it flew over my fellow celebrant's head. "Oh, same! Y'know, Gaby honey, the best advice I ever received was..."

The story made me smile. I'd heard it countless times—the meeting that changed two people's lives, bringing bliss to one and a tonne of money to the other.

"... and now you're Gabrielle Amelia McAllan and sooooooo happy waking up beside the man of your dreams every single day..."

I snapped back to attention. Slight sarcasm there too? And it certainly wasn't every single day. This week, for example, I woke up to him four days ago and no sign of him since. Phone calls and FaceTime are all very well but in person works best for me.

That is what happens when you marry someone who works in the tourist industry. It was June, though you might not know it from the temperature outside, and Jack was ferrying people to and from various scenic destinations. Thanks to the resemblance he bore to a certain red-headed fictional Scottish character, he ran Outlander themed tours. They took in Doune Castle, Skye, Clava Cairns and Glencoe.

Earlier this year, he'd employed an assistant to help lessen the amount of time he was away. Sadly, it didn't work out and we were back to situation normal—prolonged absences and him exhausted and grumpy when he returned to the house at the end of each tour.

And if anyone had the right to be exhausted and grumpy just now, it was me. But best face forward for the boss and all that.

"Yes," I sipped my apple juice. "Soooooooo happy. What are you doing for the rest of the week?"

A huge sigh. "Filming today, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. A date night late Friday with Donal to celebrate our six-month anniversary. Then, off on a promotional tour to South Korea for five days, plus an interview with Women's Health to launch my new fitness app, and I need to do a work-out with Pop Sugar to highlight that and then at the end of the month, I'll be—"

Do not ask a world-famous reality TV star/'self'-made billionaire about her schedule. Her busyness was insane. It was 5am in the morning in LA, the only break in her day she could take. I often wondered why Caitlin Cartier chose me as her occasional confidant, but she went on and on about how the best thing in her life—Donal—was thanks to little ol' me.

I married Jack one day before her wedding. She borrowed my 'proper' wedding day, my venue and all my guests. Caitlin decided this bonded us together. We were 'besties' even if my real 'bestie' objected strongly to Caitlin's claim to the title.

"Doesn't mean anything, Katya!" I told her. "Caitlin has more than 700 'besties'. You're one of them too!"

Katya wrote Caitlin's 'autobiography' qualifying her for close status to the famous one—hence their friendship. And she too was a frequent recipient of the Caitlin 5am in LA Skype calls. Because Caitlin was also 'besties' with a lot of other famous people who might need their autobiography written by someone who knew how to spell and where to place commas and apostrophes, Katya plastered a smile on her face when her laptop vibrated. Call coming through...

"My mom wants me to try for a baby," Caitlin said, fiddling with the stem of her glass, making me inhale sharply. Timely. Was Caitlin able to see anything...?