by Jo McNally
Bridget’s mouth opened, then closed, as if Kelly’s praise had left her speechless. Her cheeks went pink, and she blinked a few times, then looked up at Finn. “Wow. Is there some special alignment of the stars tonight or something? Mike had an actual good idea, my grandmother is here and Kelly just gave me a compliment. I feel like I should buy a lottery ticket or something.”
Finn looked around, scanning faces. “Your grandmother’s here? I thought she was avoiding crowds?” He spotted Maura at a corner booth. She had a bright green scarf tied around her head. She had Bridget’s sharp features, including the cheekbones. Her pallor was a little dull, but she was laughing softly at something Father Brennan was telling her.
Finn had met the good Father before Christmas. Rick was convinced they’d get along, since they were both Irish. Finn had learned since coming to America that people tended to lump groups together and think they had to be friends if they were both Irish, or black, or professors, or whatever identification people assigned to them. Therefore, from Ireland meant instant bond.
And damn if, with Father Joe, it hadn’t happened just like that. A large part of the credit went to Joe, of course. The priest was impossible to dislike, with his quick laugh and deep wisdom both shared liberally. Finn had to admit it was nice to speak with someone knowledgeable of Irish hurling teams without the jokes about the American definition of the word hurling. In Ireland, it was a brutal sport similar to lacrosse in that wooden sticks were swung, trying to capture a small ball. But the sticks were more like hockey sticks. Finn had played in a county league for a year or two and had the scars to prove it. But gah, it was fun.
“When she makes up her mind to do something, there’s no stopping her,” Bridget said. “She was determined to support Michael’s idea of Trivia Night. I tried to tell her she shouldn’t come, but...” Her voice faded off.
“Is everything okay?”
Bridget blinked. “Yes, it’s fine. Nana’s just had a rough week or two. We’re trying to put on our happiest faces for her. At least she agreed to sit in the back corner. Father Joe’s making sure she stays there.” She watched Michael come back out to the bar. He looked her way and nodded toward the back in a clear suggestion that that’s where she needed to be. “I’d better get going. Are you staying for trivia?”
He’d had no intention of doing so, but he needed to keep an eye on Greer. “Um...yeah. Definitely. Promised Mikey and all that. Gotta do my part, right?”
“Do your part for who? You don’t owe Michael anything, do you?”
“Well, Mike’s a friend of mine.” That was a stretch at this point, but he and Mike did share the same dark humor. “But I meant do my part for you, Bridget.” Her eyes went wide and he realized that may not have come out right. “I mean...I know it’s not my night to tend bar, but I want the place to succeed, so I came to support you.” He gave her a wink, trying to lighten the awkward moment. “I’m not a monster.”
Mike whistled sharply to get her attention again, and she headed back toward the kitchen. “Gotta go. And the jury’s still out on the monster thing.” She returned his wink before leaving, and his chest went tight. He really liked it when Bridget let her guard down and showed her playful side. He had no business liking her this much, though. A relationship, real or fake, was the last thing he needed. He glanced Greer’s way.
If she ever caught wind of the ridiculous tale he’d let the man believe, she’d boot his ass to the curb, and he’d deserve it. He was glad to see her leave the bar area. With any luck, she’d be too busy to come back out here while Greer was around.
* * *
MAURA HAD BEEN blinking back tears all night. She didn’t even know why this crying jag was prowling under the surface. She was sick of riding this emotional roller coaster she’d been on. She had cancer. That sucked. She was having caustic chemicals pumped into her body through a port in her chest. That sucked. Her hair was gone. She was always tired. In a few months, she’d be having surgery. That all sucked. But “chemo brain” was the final straw.
She’d been through tough times before. She’d buried a husband, a son, a daughter-in-law, her sister... Had she shed tears then? Of course. But almost always in private. Publicly, she’d been a proper matriarch—strong, confident, composed. She was the one who kept the family moving forward, who came up with the plans and set them in motion.
But now? Now she felt her emotions and reactions were either out of control like tonight, or buried in a thick cover of fog layered over quicksand. She was forgetful and fuzzy-brained. It was a constant struggle not to cry all the time. For no specific reason. Just...cry. She wanted it more than she’d ever wanted anything—to sob and throw things and curse the world and everyone in it.
“Maura, are you feelin’ alright?” Father Joe Brennan leaned toward her. “You look a bit off.”
She adored the Irish priest who’d come to town a few years ago and had quickly become everyone’s favorite holy man, whether they were Catholic or not. There was something about his quick wit and sparkling eyes that never missed a trick. He’d been in the States a lot longer than Bridget’s tenant, Finn, but he still had his gentle Irish brogue. He was of average height, but people described him as a leprechaun because of his accent and happy attitude. He was also a human lie detector, so there was no sense in trying to fool him.
“The doctors and nurses call it chemo brain. The meds are reacting with my emotions, and...” She fought back the tears that brimmed in her eyes. “I’m just a mess, Joseph. I’m sad all the time. And please don’t tell me to count my blessings or whatever. I’m not in the mood. It’s like being a darkened room and not being able to pull the curtains back to let the sun in. I know it’s shining, but not for me. Not right now.”
A few tears broke free, and she rushed to brush them from her cheeks. Father Joe patted her hand.
“Maura, love, it’s part of my job description to see blessings everywhere. But it’s not part of yours. It’s perfectly okay to let yourself be sad and tired and even angry. I have it on good authority that the Guy Upstairs can take it.” He smiled. “I’ll keep track of the blessings when you cannot.”
She did her best to smile, but felt it tremble on her lips. “Thank you, Father Joe. I just hate feeling as if my own thoughts and feelings are not under my control.”
A round of cheers came from a table with four couples seated at it. Cal Watkins, from the college’s art department, was emceeing the trivia contest, and apparently that table had all ten questions in the first category correct. Maura pulled her shoulders back and raised her chin in determination.
“I’ll be fine. Tonight’s just what I needed. Look how successful Michael’s idea was! I know he didn’t exactly invent bar trivia, but he’d pushed Bridget hard to bring it to the Purple Shamrock. And did I tell you the kids are going to have a St. Patrick’s Day bash here next month? Just like old times, when my husband, and then my son, were still alive.”
Joe’s eyebrows rose. “Truly? I thought Bridget was determined to leave all the Irish stuff behind? What happened to all her plans of changing the place?”
Maura shrugged. She had a feeling Bridget’s change of heart about keeping the pub Irish had to do with Maura’s illness, and being appeased wasn’t what Maura wanted. At least...it shouldn’t be what Maura wanted. But if it kept the shamrocks in the Shamrock, she’d take it. Seeing the place reinvented as some modern wine bar or whatever would depress Maura more than she already was.
“I think she’s only doing it to make me happy, bless her heart. And I have to admit I’m looking forward to the party. She’s even managed to locate a band from Buffalo who was available to play Irish music.” Maura saw a familiar face across the room. Victoria Pendergast was standing at a table near the door, laughing with an older man. It took Maura a moment to place his face—damn this chemo brain—but she figured it out eventually. It was Howard Greer from the college. He tended
to be a bit of a stick-in-the-mud, and she’d hardly ever seen him at the Shamrock. But tonight, he was smiling so widely that Maura could see his gleaming teeth, even from this distance. Had he had those teeth whitened?
He reached out and took Vickie’s hand. Oh, boy. Maura thought her friend had given up her manhunting ways after her last husband left her for a much younger woman. But there was a gleam in Vickie’s eye when she smiled at Howard that said she was very much back in the game. Greer pulled a chair up to the table and she sat at his side, scooching up nice and close. He physically preened at the attention, making Maura chuckle. Father Joe followed her gaze and nodded.
“I heard Vickie and Howard were gettin’ on. They were at the Spot Diner for breakfast together a few days ago.” Of course he knew. The priest had the best gossip grapevine in town. “Howard has a spring in his step I haven’t seen from him in a long time. D’ya think it’s serious?”
“I’m not sure.” Strange that Vickie hadn’t mentioned this new relationship of hers. It made her wonder what else people weren’t telling her. Did they think they were protecting her somehow? Of all people, Vickie should know better.
Vickie’s eyes suddenly went wide and round at something Greer said. Maura could tell she was saying what? in shock. Had Howard gotten fresh? Nah—Vickie liked a flirtatious man, so she wouldn’t be upset at that. Then Vickie looked over and met Maura’s eyes, mouthing wow. Now Maura was really curious. Vickie grilled Howard for another few minutes. When the trivia contest moved into the third category, Vickie left his table with an affectionate pat of his shoulder, and headed straight for Maura.
She greeted Father Joe as she sat, then turned to Maura. “Have you been keeping secrets, my dear?”
Maura had a feeling it wasn’t just the chemo that made the question so confusing. “Me? What about you and your new friend, Howard?”
Vickie waved off the question, but her cheeks went pink. Yup, she was falling for a new man. “We’re just friends,” Vickie lied. “It’s not like we’re engaged or anything.” Vickie gave her a suggestive and expectant look, but Maura had no idea what she was fishing for. Vickie tried again. “I don’t have a wedding to plan—not yet, anyway—but it appears you do.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” She glanced at Joe. “Sorry, Father. But really, Vickie, who is it you think is getting married?” Even Joe seemed lost, and he knew everything.
Maura looked toward the bar, where Kelly was laughing with Michael. Kelly was with a lovely young woman named Cecily, but that wasn’t news. Michael had barely dated since losing his wife. Mary and Timothy were happily married. And Lord knew it couldn’t be...
“Bridget, you ninny!” Vickie crowed. “Finn told Howard all about it. They’re engaged. They met when he got here last fall, and I guess it was love at first sight.” Vickie was practically gushing. There was nothing she liked better than weddings—hers or anyone else’s. “And now they’re engaged!” Vickie was bouncing in her seat. “Of course, Finn told Howard to keep it quiet, but he knew he could trust me. And Howard can’t keep a secret to save his life.” Neither could Vickie, apparently.
Maura’s mouth was open, but she had no words. Father Joe jumped in. “Perhaps Bridget’s been waiting for the right moment to surprise you, Maura.”
Vickie took in a sharp breath. “Oh my God—you didn’t know?”
“It must be a mistake. Greer’s not exactly a spring chicken, and he must have been confused...”
Vickie bristled in defense of her man. “Howard is a college president. There’s nothing wrong with his cognitive skills. Finn told him the whole story—how he only took the apartment so they could be living together without anyone knowing...” She hesitated. “Oh, maybe she did want to keep it a secret from you. But why would she be afraid to tell you? Do you not like Finn O’Hearn?”
Maura looked around the bar. People were milling about as Cal compiled all the trivia scores from the various teams, but she thought she’d seen Finn earlier. Ah, there he was, leaning against the bar, talking quietly with Cecily, who laughed at something he said. Kelly walked over to join them. They all seemed familiar and friendly with Finn. Did everyone in the family know about this but her?
He seemed like a lovely man, and the fact that he spoke with that Irish accent was a bonus. But all Bridget did was complain about the guy! He had all sorts of opinions about the bar, and Lord knew Bridget didn’t want any more of those. She complained about the way he “hogged” the laundry room, and how he’d taken over the vacant office...although it seemed she’d given him permission for that. She said he was “stodgy” and “bookish.” But as Maura watched him now, hip against the bar, smiling at Bridget’s cousins, all she saw was a man comfortable in his skin. Comfortable where he was, with the people he was with.
“I bet Father Joe is right,” Vickie was saying. “They probably wanted to surprise you, and I just blew it.” Vickie was watching Finn, too. “On the bright side, the man is a catch and a half, Maura. Better than anyone the book club could have come up with. Oh, look—there’s Bridget now! And Howard is talking to her. I’ll bet he’s congratulating her on the news...”
Maura watched and wondered. Her granddaughter did not look like a happy bride-to-be being congratulated. While a wisp of a steely smile remained on her face, those McKinnon eyes were full of murder. Was it Maura’s fuzzy brain that was making everything seem...off? Or was something seriously off kilter with this engagement?
Father Joe apparently picked up on the same undercurrent Maura had as he watched Bridget and Howard across the pub. “Perhaps she’s just angry the secret is out?”
There was a flurry of motion near the bar. Finn O’Hearn was practically sprinting toward Bridget and Greer. And again, Bridget’s reaction was off. She didn’t greet him as a lover would. She fixed him with a glare that could peel paint, her eyes dark and hard.
But wait...Finn slid his arm around her waist. He tugged her stiff body close, then lowered his head and whispered something in her ear that made her laugh sharply. She pushed on his chest. When he didn’t budge, she looked up into his eyes and, after a brief moment, her expression softened, her mouth going slack. She mouthed the word really? at him, and he nodded, glancing at Greer before moving away from her with a slow shake of his head.
“Holy cats,” Vickie muttered. “Now do you believe what Howard said? There’s a whole romance novel’s worth of chemistry going on between those two.”
Maura couldn’t disagree, although she wasn’t sure if it was tension or heat between them. Maybe a bit of both. She couldn’t hold back her smile. There was something about the look in Bridget’s eyes as she gazed at Finn. They were having a silent exchange, the way lovers did. Damn. Maybe Bridget and Finn really were engaged.
A quick surge of excitement pulsed through her. Maura hadn’t felt this vibrant in weeks. A wedding! Maybe in the fall? She’d be done with chemo and surgery by then, and hopefully well on the mend. But would she have her hair back? She touched her hand to her scarf. Maybe she could talk Bridget into waiting for a winter wedding.
Vickie leaned toward her. “I wonder what’s going on over there? Howard looks so confused. I hope they aren’t fighting... Oh, look at that...”
Finn had been moving away from Bridget, but she stopped him, reaching up to grab his shirt, sliding closer to his side before turning to Howard with a bright smile. Then she looked over at the corner booth where Maura was. Again, something was off with Bridget, but she regrouped and smiled up at Finn. And then...they kissed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“WHY YES, IT is true, Dr. Greer. Finn and I were just trying to keep it a...surprise.”
Bridget’s brain was spinning. No, that wasn’t right. It had screeched to a complete halt. Spit and sputtered. Spun around and flipped upside down. Then stopped abruptly. The changes in speed gave her whiplash. That’s the only possible explanation for the fact that sh
e’d just told Howard Greer, in front of a table full of people, that she and Finn O’Hearn were engaged.
To be married.
Her and Finn.
Surprise!
Greer was looking at her, his brows raised in anticipation of more words. Sure. Words. Words would be good. She glanced up at Finn, who looked a tender shade of green, and tucked a few very special words away for him later. She sucked in a sharp breath.
“Um...yeah...a surprise for my grandmother.”
“For Maura?” Greer pursed his lips. “I told your fiancé you shouldn’t waste any time. Your grandmother needs that good news now, not later.”
Bridget looked across the room to where Nana was sitting with Father Joe. Vickie Pendergast had joined their table. All three of them were staring straight at her and Finn. Vickie looked positively diabolical in her glee, and Nana was smiling warmly. Tenderly. At Bridget. Like she knew. Oh, damn. She knew. Bridget tried to keep her voice level. Finn was no help at all, frozen at her side, arm stiff around her waist. A deer in the headlights. She flashed a dark look at him. A man on death row was more like it.
“You’re probably right, Dr. Greer. I suspect our little secret is out. Has anyone else mentioned it to you?”
He’d reached back for his drink and he took a sip before nodding. “I spoke with Vickie Pendergast. She acted surprised at first, but I think she was just trying to keep up the game for you.” He tipped his head and...twitched. Was that supposed to be a wink? He chuckled softly. “Vickie is clever like that. And if she knows, your grandmother knows. The two of them are joined at the hip.”
Bridget glanced over at Nana. She was practically glowing with happiness. Over Bridget’s fictional engagement to Finn? Suddenly murder felt too good for the man.
But the rush of words he’d whispered in her ear a few minutes ago, his arm tight—and trembling—around her waist, were still bouncing around in her head.
