Morrison’s went over without a hitch, and my nerves dissolved entirely. I felt like kicking myself for being such a nervous wreck. When I’d been with Highland Toons, we’d played almost every weekend. I had enough experience playing in front of an audience, I shouldn’t even have a passing thought to my nerves. The audience cheered and started a conga line as we zipped through the tune. Peter played his flute, and smiled, and danced. He skipped out to the crowd and grabbed a lady’s hand and spun her around, then skipped over to a man and did the same thing. The guy was a good sport about it. I tried to keep a straight face and focus on my fiddling, but damn, Peter was distracting. He could have stood stock still and I would have been distracted by the way his fingers moved on the flute. s**t
