By Liz, happy to welcome Traci Hall back to the blog! She’s talking weddings today…so let’s get to it! Take it away, Traci!
Thanks to Liz and the other fabulous Wickeds for letting me hang out on your blog today! I’m thrilled to be here 😊
I’d like to share my wedding experience writing book four of the Scottish Shire series. Lydia wants to marry Corbin but, well, death happens as it often does when writing cozy mysteries. I was planning my wedding for May 1st as I was penning this to make an April 15th deadline so there were many times when the whole process felt brilliantly surreal.
Who doesn’t love weddings? Yet, so many things can go wrong despite detailed planning.
Lydia and Corbin try to get hitched at the old kirk and honor his family’s traditions, from the Luckenbooth brooch to sharing vows in the same church. The Smythe’s lovely tradition is riddled with superstition.
In fact, the Luckenbooth brooch comes from 16th century Scotland where there were permanent small shops that sold wares on the Royal Mile in Edinburgh, called Locked Booths. The jewelers were popular, and the heart and crown style became known as a Luckenbooth brooch. Some have thistles or a jewel. The tradition was that the man would give it as a betrothal gift to his lady, and later, when they had children, the pin would be attached to the baby’s blanket to keep away evil spirits.
Now, Lydia is a very modern-thinking woman but to make Corbin (and his family) happy she goes along with everything his stepmother wanted—except for choosing a different Luckenbooth brooch. The one Corbin had chosen, with a real ruby, for Lydia’s birthstone, is deemed to be cursed.
Lydia doesn’t believe in curses. She loves Corbin and regrets not eloping to Gretna Green as he’d suggested when he’d first proposed. Especially when a Smythe cousin dies with the missing Luckenbooth in her hand at the bottom of the kirk’s steep stairs. The wedding is postponed, and his family wants him to call it completely off.
Paislee takes her duties as matron-of-honor seriously and promises to find out what’s going on before someone takes another shot at her bestie. In the end, Lydia gets what she wants, and Paislee has a new side hustle knitting pet gear.
As I wrote the ups and downs for poor Lydia, I was choosing a venue for my own wedding, something small and intimate. This was a second wedding for both of us and we’ve been together for nine years already. This was about celebrating our relationship with our family. Because of Covid, we’d delayed our nuptials by a year. We created our own vows and were married by a dear friend. We chose a seaside restaurant with historic rooms and a stellar view. The wedding would be outside near the sand dunes with a Sunday lunch to follow.
A storm was predicted for the entire weekend—hurricane season in South Florida. Saturday, I was kind of worried that things would need to be indoors, or worse, canceled. I had buckets of hydrangeas that my new sister-in-law was keeping alive by cutting the ends and dipping them in alum powder, or else they wilted. I had no idea that they would be so delicate—oh, but they were so lovely.
Sunday dawned with blue skies! I didn’t realize that we’d be competing with the air show. Military planes and jets zipped by throughout the day. As far as fiascos went, we didn’t have a dead body to contend with, lol, just the planes and threat of rain.
It was a good thing we didn’t plan an immediate honeymoon as we ended up with Covid, after two years of avoiding it and despite getting our booster in April. Now that some time has passed, I can look at the beautiful pictures and laugh.
I hope Lydia and Corbin can share a smile now too.
Tell me about any wedding disasters that you know of in the comments! I’ll choose a winner for an ARC of Murder at a Scottish Wedding.
Thanks for chatting with me today!
Here’s the blurb for Murder at a Scottish Wedding:
As her friend’s matron of honor, Paislee Shaw vows to solve the mystery of a missing brooch and a dying wedding guest . . .
Paislee’s specialty sweater shop and yarn business Cashmere Crush, in the charming Scottish village of Nairn, is closed today for a special occasion. Her bonnie bestie Lydia is moments away from walking down the aisle of the church at Old Nairn Kirk to wed Corbin Smythe. Gramps and Paislee’s eleven-year-old son Brody are seated in the pews with the other guests—the only family not in attendance is their black Scottish terrier Wallace. As matron of honor, Paislee is at her friend’s side when Lydia lets out a frantic cry. The Luckenbooth brooch her betrothed gave her is missing. A traditional Scottish love token, the gold heirloom has been in his family for generations and not wearing it could bring bad luck—according to the superstitious Smythes.
But the real misfortune falls on a distraught cousin who suddenly disrupts the ceremony and dies with the brooch in her hand. The Smythes insist it’s the curse. But Paislee must broach the subject of…murder. And was the intended victim the guest—or the bride? Only Paislee can determine who to pin the murder on . . .