A heaviness settled in his heart.
Prove his worth to whom? His book-smart brother, who had been their parents’ favorite child? His dead parents?
And for what?
So that he could boast that he was the richest man in Ireland, thereby showing his dead parents that he hadn’t been a failure? That Eamon wasn’t the only one who could be successful?
“The pot of gold on The Ground Café’s logo is your tribute to Glenna,” Clara said softly. “Soon, that logo will be seen throughout the world.”
“Wealth buys many things, fixes many things,” he murmured.
“But not this.”
He drew in a breath. Waited. “Not this.”
Glenna’s last day of her life was seared in his brain. He’d begged her to hold on, squeezed her fragile, cold hand tightly in his.
“Don’t you dare leave me alone with Ma and Da, Glenna. They don’t care about us. We only have each other,” he’d pleaded. “Don’t leave me.”
It was too difficult, all those terrible recollections emerging. He knuckled away a tear, attempted to find some sense in the tragedy that shouldn’t have happened.
The wind picked up, more frigid than slight, rustling the leaves on the thin and spindly tree branches.
Clara gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. “You were a devoted brother and Glenna’s death wasn’t your fault. You were only a teenager and despite what you believe, your parents must’ve been devastated. Losing a child so young … I can’t imagine.”
He wanted to accept her grasp, her reassurance. “If my parents were devastated, I never saw a shred of remorse. If anything, they drank even more those months following her death. I damn well tried to stop them from drinking and I damn well failed. I thought I could fix them. I couldn’t. They both committed suicide a few months later. They needed more help than I could give them.”
She seemed to absorb every word, every sadness, into her own heart. “So then you went to live with your aunt and uncle and finished secondary school.”
“I never finished. I left the schooling to my brilliant older brother. Eamon’s an esteemed physician in Dublin now, very up-and-coming in the medical field.”
“Experience is more important than any schooling.” She stepped in front of him and offered a quivering smile. “Danny Brady, I believe you’ve achieved great things and the best is yet to come, although I’m still waiting for your apology.”
Momentarily speechless, his lips parted with no sound. “For what?”
“For talking so unnecessarily harsh to me a few moments ago, in that imperious tone of yours. And here I was nice enough to accompany you to Dublin and missing the Sunday matinee picture show.”
Taken aback, he brushed his knuckles against her cheek. “Will you still let me buy your recipe?”
“My price keeps increasing for every second that you don’t apologize.”
“You said that you don’t like to apologize.”
“This is about your apology, not mine.”
“You drive a hard bargain.”
She was the only woman he’d ever met who could take him from sorrow to laughter to passion in under one minute. “And I sincerely apologize for my earlier rudeness.”
As they walked to the sedan, Clara gripped his hand firmly. In times past, he’d wanted to be alone in his grief. Today he was grateful for her presence.
He glided his thumb against her fingers. “I’ve never asked anyone to accompany me to Glasnevin before.”
“Thank you for sharing your past with me.” And before they slid into the sedan, she gave him a kiss.
Clara, his enchanting Clara, brought balance to his unsteady, demanding world.
The chauffeur pulled the sedan into traffic. Clouds were gathering in the twilight sky, promising rain as the Dublin streetlights stretched farther away. Clara rested her head against his shoulder, and he stroked her hair.
She’d listened to his tale about his parents and young sister without judgment, urging him to forgive. In the end, it wasn’t Clara’s reassuring words that had moved him. It was the respect shining from her chestnut-brown eyes, her unabashed belief in him, her ability to see only the good. Her affirmations meant more than all of his extravagant estates and luxury cars combined.
He pressed her nearer. “May I take you out to dinner tomorrow evening? I’ve heard there’s a posh restaurant in the next town over from Farthing, The Duckling and the Quail. Do you fancy duckling?”
She shook her head. “Never had it.”
“Mouthwatering quail?”
Another head shake. “We’re of the fish and chips mentality.”
“Me too.” He laughed and pressed a kiss on her cheek. “Surely there’ll be some type of normal food on the menu we can eat. I’ll make reservations and ring Ian and Anna to stay with Seamus.”
After a lengthy, relaxed silence, Clara remarked, “You’ve managed to find the most expensive restaurant within thirty miles of Farthing. My dance class finishes at seven. I’ll need to go home to shower and change first.”
“I’ll come by your flat at eight.”
He held her tightly, wanting to escape the tragedy of his past in her goodness. And he wanted to make their last few days together as unforgettable for her as they would be for him.
Chapter Fourteen
The following morning, Clara lingered in bed later than she’d planned. Seamus had kept her awake the night before, complaining that both Ian and Anna had lectured him about “staying on the rails … or else.”
“Or else what?” Clara had inquired while she’d started the wash and tidied the kitchen. She was too tired for this conversation, she thought. She stayed, although she would have preferred to go to her room and think about her day with Danny and what she had learned about him.
“Or else they’d force me into a treatment center,” Seamus had replied.
At midnight, Clara had finally pleaded exhaustion while making assenting noises in Seamus’s direction before bidding him good night.
Just now, she’d been relieved when the door to her flat had opened and closed at seven, the exact time Seamus departed for his shift at the coffee shop.
She smiled. Despite his ranting the previous evening, Seamus had proven himself a responsible worker, reinforcing her belief that nothing was more important to his recovery than his family’s love and encouragement.
She sank deeper under the covers and listened to the soothing sound of rhythmic rain against her bedroom window. Stretching, she sighed contentedly and closed her eyes.
She and Danny were getting on brilliantly. Although they’d known each other for only a short while, they’d formed a strong connection, a bond she couldn’t deny.
And tonight she’d be seeing him again.
Mentally, she went through her closet, deciding what to wear to the posh restaurant. Months earlier, she’d purchased a ruby-red silk cocktail dress at the local thrift shop. The dress was stunning and sophisticated, its sheath design clinging subtly to her slim curves.
She’d called Anna the previous evening and asked to borrow her beaded faux-crystal headband. Danny had said he’d liked Clara’s hair best when she pulled it back to show off her dark eyes.
And dinner with him at such an exclusive place. Why, hadn’t the prime minister himself dined at The Duckling and the Quail?
The meal would be superb, coupled with Danny’s easy laughter and impeccable manners. At the end of the evening, she envisioned him wrapping her in his arms and kissing her in that sensually confident way of his. Just thinking about his kisses heated her entire body.
On her nightstand, her cell phone chimed and her eyes fluttered open. Noting Danny’s caller ID, she picked up on the first ring.
“Good morning, Clara. It’s your favorite barista.”
She grinned into the phone, basking in the warmth of his deep voice. “Good morning.”
“You still in bed?” His tone took a husky turn.
She sat up and propped the p
illows behind her. “How did you know?”
“Your brother reported for work at the coffee shop and he’s a virtual chatterbox, remember?” Danny’s soft laugh sounded tired. “Sorry to ring on such short notice. Unfortunately, I need to cancel our dinner tonight. My lawyers are convening in Dublin this afternoon, and I was just informed that I must be present. More papers require my signature and I need to go over some eleventh-hour details regarding my trip.”
The laughter, she noted, was gone from his voice.
“When are you leaving?”
“Shortly.”
She slumped against the pillows. “Is your chauffeur driving you?”
“No. My car needs some repair work done. I’ll drive it to Dublin myself.” Danny seemed to falter for a second. “Ian may come with me. He has … a project in Dublin to attend to.”
“That’s a fret. We were in Dublin yesterday.”
His weary sigh was followed by a pause. “Aye.”
She accepted his response. He sounded as frustrated as she felt. Noting the clock, she pushed to her feet. Cradling the phone against her shoulder, she pulled on her robe and padded to the kitchen. “How long will you be gone?”
“I’ll fly directly to London from Dublin because there’s no sense delaying these meetings. I promise I’ll make it up to you when I return to Farthing in a couple of weeks.”
“No worries.” Deflated, she lowered herself onto the kitchen stool.
Two weeks without him.
She stood and started the kettle to boil. “Will you ring me?”
Immediately she regretted her question, hated the underlying neediness. Her wounded self-respect prompted her to add, “Of course I’ll want to know you’ve landed safely.”
“I’ll ring you tonight when I arrive in London.” He punctuated the silence by clearing his throat. “I’m going to head on then.”
A woman was talking to him in the background. Clara sensed he was rushed.
She squeezed the phone. “Safe travels, Danny.”
“I’ll miss you.” He waited for a beat. “Will you miss me?”
She brought the phone close to her ear. Perhaps he wasn’t handling his unanticipated departure as dismissively as she’d thought.
“I’ll miss you a great deal,” she replied honestly.
“Imagine my arms around you while I’m gone, ensuring that you are safe.” He lowered his voice. “Keep your thoughts on last evening, when we were in the backseat of the sedan. Remember that.”
They’d kissed as if they were a couple of love-struck teenagers.
Briefly, she closed her eyes. “I will.”
“I’ll return as soon as I can, luv.” He hung up with a quick click.
She stared at the phone. Should she be a little hurt that he hadn’t offered more than a quick farewell? For a man who’d seemed so concerned about her welfare, he was leaving on extremely short notice with only the promise of a memory.
Frustrated, she showered quickly, got dressed, and ran a hairbrush through her damp hair. As she sat finishing her morning tea and lemon scone, a pounding on her entry door brought her quickly to her feet.
“Anybody home?” Anna waltzed into the kitchen with her purse slung haphazardly over her arm.
Clara put a hand to her heart. “I nearly had 40,000 canaries. You scared me half to death.”
“Only me.” Anna screwed up her face and shook the wetness from her hair. “It’s raining stair rods out there.” She bent and smiled at her reflection in the stainless-steel toaster on the counter, then fluffed candy-blue hair strands to frame her face. “How do you like my new hair color?”
Clara chose her words carefully. “It suits you better than royal purple.”
“I chose this color to match Ian’s motorcycle.”
“A perfect match.”
“He’s a cupcake. Tonight, we’re riding his motorcycle to a pub the next town over. I’m wearing a candy-blue sweater too.”
“Even better.” Clara muffled a smile, then frowned, considering. “Ian’s staying in Farthing this evening?”
“Yeh, where else?”
Clara sank onto the kitchen stool, pushed her teacup aside and started to ask about Ian. Hadn’t Danny said that Ian would be driving to Dublin with him?
“You should lock your flat door, by the way,” Anna interrupted before Clara could speak. “Your useless toe rag of an ex is roaming somewhere around Farthing and you don’t want him barging into your flat unannounced.”
“Jack Connor would never be awake before noon. Besides, Seamus asked on the streets, and word is that Jack returned to Cork and is living with his brother.”
“He’s not back in prison then?”
“Nope.”
Anna shook her head. “Sometimes I still can’t believe that you were once arrested and put in prison because you stole from our friends. The Murphys, of all people. They’d owned their furniture store for years.”
“Jack was so controlling. I did whatever he said to do. I was in a fog.”
“Seamus and I tried to tell you that he was manipulative. You wouldn’t listen.”
“I wasn’t myself. I was with Jack every second. He was all I heard, all I saw ...” Clara wiped at her eyes. Her cheeks felt hot. Shaking away her thoughts, she glanced at the clock and stood. “I’d wet some tea for you, except I’m already late for the bus.”
Anna set her biker jacket and pink suede purse on an empty stool, plunked herself down, and forked the last bite of Clara’s scone. “I’ll drive you to work. You’ll be soaked before you reach the bus stop.”
“Thanks. I don’t know when or if my car’s brakes will ever be fixed. Now the mechanic’s saying the cost to repair the brakes will be more than the car’s worth. His advice is to give up the car. I don’t really need one, anyway.” Clara went to the stove and threw two teabags into the teapot. She poured Anna a cup and brought a sugar bowl and two more scones to the table.
“True.” Anna added several heaping teaspoons of sugar to her tea before biting into another scone. “So, on a much more fascinating topic, I assume you had a whale of a time yesterday in Dublin with Danny? Happy out?”
Clara sat opposite Anna. “Dublin was grand.”
“There are definite advantages in dating a billionaire. By the way, the reason I burst in this morning was to bring you my headband.” Anna reached into her purse and brandished the sparkly headband, waving it gaily in Clara’s direction. “Tonight you’re actually dining at The Duckling and the Quail!”
“Not anymore.” Clara attempted a swallow of tea. The warm liquid stayed trapped in her throat as a nagging realization struck her. Danny Brady would always choose his business above his personal relationships. And that realization brought a clearer insight into his priorities.
He had to have known how unpinned she would feel, how much she’d been looking forward to their evening together. Sure, she’d had plans canceled on her before. And she’d carried on, just like she would this time.
She swallowed the tea, set down her cup, and pushed it aside. She’d never mention her disappointment to him. Her pride was too fragile. Besides, she’d vowed she’d never allow a man to make her feel vulnerable again. “Danny’s leaving for Dublin today because of some unexpected meetings. Then he’s off to London for a couple of weeks.”
Anna pushed the sparkly headband back into her purse. “You sound disappointed.”
“A little.” Clara went to the sink and rinsed a clean cloth, then returned to the table and wiped bits of crumbs onto her plate.
Anna finished off her scone and licked her fingers. “He’ll be back.”
Clara feigned absorption in the crumb-wiping. “If he returns, it’s because he’ll want to ensure that his fiftieth coffee shop in Ireland is a huge success before he enters the international franchise market.”
“He employs at least one hundred other employees who could oversee his coffee shop in our little town,” Anna said with insolent amusement. “He’ll return to Fa
rthing for one reason. You.”
Clara stopped in mid-swipe. “What do you mean?”
Anna appraised a third scone before biting into it. Chewing, she dabbed at her lips. “He talks about you all the time. Ian told me, so the info is straight from the horse’s mouth. And anyone can see Danny has a glad eye for you. He’s in love with you.”
Clara went to the stove to freshen her tea while Anna’s remarks swirled through her mind. The persistent drumming of raindrops against the window had stopped. A thin ray of sunlight wafted its way through the window and into a corner of the kitchen.
Shaking her head to emphasize her point, Clara turned to face her sister. “Danny and I have become good friends because he’s seen me through a couple trying ordeals.”
The truth was, they’d become more than good friends. The heat in his kisses, the kindness in his smile, the tenderness in his gaze, were all evidence that he cared. If they kept seeing each other, their relationship might develop into something more, something deeper. Something lasting.
She curved back to the sink and switched on the faucet, washing imaginary bits of food down the drain.
Will you miss me too? The caring in his voice, like a honeyed caress, had effortlessly brought down her defenses.
“So you’re just good friends?” Anna asked.
Clara slanted a glance at her smugly beaming sister.
Anna washed down the scone with her tea in a poor attempt to hide her glee. “I’ve seen the secret smiles you two share.”
Clara shut off the faucet. “Get outta that garden before your imagination wanders too far,” she warned with a half smile. “Will you promise that you won’t talk of my relationship with Danny Brady again?”
“Yeh, I will promise,” Anna said, and both women burst into laughter. In Ireland, many times “Yeh, I will” actually meant “No, I won’t.” And in that instance, Clara knew Anna would never change. Anna loved romance and happy endings and good craic. Besides, they shared a sisterly bond.
The women were still chuckling as they left the flat. Clara locked the door, and the women walked arm-in-arm to Anna’s parked car.
Oh Danny Boy: A Sweet Contemporary Romance Page 13
