Page 32 of Highlands Summer Wedding

I flipped through the script. “So what’s the emergency?”

“An actor bailed. He played a general. Now we have to rewrite the whole thing.”

I scanned the pages. “The general in act one? There were two of them.”

“Exactly.”

“Cut to one general. Problem solved.”

Max sighed. “Not that simple. They had this whole back-and-forth that explained the backstory.”

“Can’t you just promote an extra to a speaking role?”

“Working on it.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “There’s also the Fairy Glen scene.”

I turned toward him. “What about it?”

“Studio doesn’t think it works for a war film.” He couldn’t quite hide his irritation.

“Why not scrap?—”

“Abby.” His voice softened. “You’ve seen that place. It’s breathtaking. Perfect poster material. I need those shots.”

We drove along the narrow, winding roads and talked about the script changes, his tone calm and controlled.

As we neared the glen, another call came through on his phone.

“Go for Max.”

“Yeah… yeah.” He glanced at the navigation screen. “Ten minutes out, tops.”

“What? You can’t—how long will it—no, absolutely not. We’re already down one actor, and the schedule’s tight as it is.”

I thumbed through scene forty-two while he listened, his jaw tightening.

“Fine. I’ll handle it,” he finally said, and ended the call.

The car rolled to a gentle stop in the gravel lot at the edge of the cliffs.

Max hopped out and made a beeline for the folding table craft services was setting up.

“Good morning, sir!” said a young production assistant.

“Just Max.” He accepted a cup of coffee. “Thanks for coming early. Those croissants look amazing. This is Abby. She’ll be on set with me today.”

The PA nodded. “Welcome, Abby.”

“Thanks!” I scanned the spread appreciatively. Scones, croissants, oat cakes, fruit, coffee, tea, and an assortment of juices. “Almond croissants and oat cakes. Someone did their research.”

I settled into a director’s chair, flipping through the script and marking possible changes in the margins.

Max darted from crew member to crew member, gesturing and pointing as grips and locations crew set up base camp and hauled in lighting gear. I watched him for a beat—how he moved, how the crew responded to him.

The generators kicked on with a low rumble just as I spotted a woolly intruder ambling across the field. The gate must have been left open. Framed against the rising sun and the dramatic cliffs beyond, the sheep looked almost staged.

I couldn’t help myself—I grabbed my phone for a quick shot.

A locations assistant caught my eye and pointed toward a low grassy mound at the edge of the field. “Mind the fairy mound,” she said quietly. “We've been working around it all morning.”