Barefoot on a Starlit Night

by Jo McNally

  “I don’t know where you ever got the idea I was a nice girl.”

  Finn shifted, tearing his eyes away from her and draining his glass. After that kiss in the Shamrock the other night? Her not being a nice girl was exactly what he was afraid of.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “IT’S NOT THAT I’m not happy for Bridget, but the whole thing is just...odd.”

  Maura nodded at Vickie’s comment as she took a sip of the peppermint tea Iris Taggart had brought to the book club meeting. The feisty octogenarian had insisted that Maura have some right away, saying it would help settle her stomach. It was only a few days after her fourth chemo session, and the nausea was getting worse every time. Along with the aches in every joint, the needly tingles in her feet, and the fogginess in her head.

  Cecile and Lena voiced their agreement, but Helen Russo frowned over her glass of wine. She’d brought a few bottles of the latest vintage of pinot noir from her winery to the meeting, which was at the Purple Shamrock. They were holding the meeting there to make it easier for Maura to get home if she couldn’t last the whole time. It was three o’clock on a Tuesday, so the place was in the peaceful lull between lunch and dinner servings.

  “I wondered about the suddenness of it all myself,” Helen said, “but Whitney had lunch with Bridget, and she said the woman seemed truly in love. Said she was talking about Finn and got all misty-eyed and everything.”

  Maura smiled in spite of her doubts. “Bridget stopped by the house a few nights ago, and she was adamant that it was basically love at first sight between her and Finn.”

  “Ooh!” Cecile squealed. “That can happen! Charlie and I fell in love in a week! We were engaged two months later and married in six. I’ll tell you, when I saw that man, I was just...” She pretended to fan herself.

  Cecile and Charlie were an interesting couple. They both seemed so average and nondescript, and had been all their lives. He was a plumber. She’d worked at the college as a receptionist for years until her retirement a few years ago. But boy, they’d been head over heels in love from the start. And very...passionate. Just last week, Maura saw Charlie dip Cecile low on the dance floor, and his hand had spent a lot of time on Cecile’s derriere.

  Helen joined in. “Tony and I were quick, too, although he fell first. He said he knew the minute he saw me in art class that he was going to marry me.” She smiled. “I took a little convincing, but who could resist that gorgeous man for long?”

  Iris reached out and patted Helen’s hand. “We all miss Tony, sweetie. He was a heck of a catch. As for me, I fell in love fast, and out of love just as fast.” She took a sip of her tea. “Turns out I was the only one who’d actually fallen at all.”

  Maura listened to all of their stories. Maybe it was possible Finn and Bridget were really in love. She’d fallen for her Patrick on a more traditional trajectory, dating for almost a year before getting engaged, and waiting another year to be married. Bridget acted as if she had more to say about the engagement the other night, but she’d waved off Maura’s questions. After Maura mentioned something about having the engagement party at her house, and how the wedding gave her something to look forward to, Bridget started talking about how much fun the party would be. It didn’t send up any red flags at the time, but Bridget had never been one to like being the center of attention. And she always complained that she had more than enough of a party atmosphere at the pub, so she didn’t like parties away from work. For birthdays or anything else. She took another sip of Iris’s tea, which did seem to be settling her stomach.

  Iris nodded at her in approval. “I do think it’s odd that she didn’t tell you. You two are so close.”

  “My granddaughter is a very...private...person. It’s not that shocking that she’d keep a whirlwind love affair to herself instead of telling everyone.” But it stung that she hadn’t even hinted at it with Maura. That was hard to believe. Everything about it was hard to believe.

  Vickie’s mouth twisted in thought. “Maybe. But Iris is right. Wouldn’t she normally tell you about it?”

  Cecile fluffed her hair and shook her head to set the blond curls swirling. As usual, she was dressed practically head-to-toe in pink. It was Maura’s least favorite color, but Cecile was always draped in it. She was like a loveable but overly enthusiastic puppy dog.

  “To be fair,” Cecile pointed out, “she may not have wanted Maura stressing about her dating someone.” She looked at Maura over the top of her wineglass. “She has been very protective of you. Are you still planning to have their engagement party at your house?”

  “Yes. It’s the easiest place to have it, and Bridget agreed.” And the family had gone along with the plan, knowing Maura could quietly escape upstairs if she felt tired, which was happening more and more these days.

  Iris turned and narrowed her eyes at Rick, who’d yet to say a word. “What the hell is up with you today, Rick? You love gossip and speculation more than most women do. I’m not used to you being the silent one at the table.”

  All heads turned to Rick, and his cheeks reddened. Vickie pounced on that.

  “Are you blushing right now? I’ve known you for decades, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you blush.” She punched his arm. “What’s going on? Are you hiding something? Do you know something we don’t?”

  Iris nodded. “Of course he does. He works with this Finn guy. You’re buddies. So why didn’t you tell us they were dating?”

  Rick stared hard at the book sitting in front of him. None of them had even mentioned the book yet. Seemed this book club had turned more into a social club these days. Maura didn’t know Rick as well as the other women did, but she’d never thought of him as being bashful about...anything. But he was practically squirming in his chair right now. Then he straightened, pulling his shoulders back and smoothing his facial expression into one of careful disinterest.

  “This may come as a shock to you ladies, but men don’t sit around and gossip about their dating lives with each other. Especially when they’re dating women and I’m...not.” He gave Vickie a pointed look. “Finn and I talk about school and literature and history.”

  Iris gave a quick cough that sounded a lot like bullshit.

  Rick held up his middle finger in her direction. “And when we’re not talking about those things, we drink beer and bitch about the weather. He’s becoming a true Upstate New Yorker.” He shrugged, lifting his hands and dropping them flat to the table. “I’m sorry to disappoint you vultures, but they both kept their secret well. I had no idea anything was going on—not even when he moved into that apartment.” He cleared his throat, taking a sip of wine. Was his hand shaking a little? But he looked her straight in the eye when he continued. “I was genuinely just as surprised as everyone else.”

  Vickie’s brows lowered and she stared at him for a long time, even as everyone else finally started discussing the latest J.D. Robb mystery they were supposed to be reading. While they marveled at any author creating a fifty-book series, Vickie watched Rick. He’d jumped into the book conversation with a great deal of enthusiasm, as if eager to change the subject away from Finn and Bridget. He and Vickie were close friends, but right now Vickie looked very suspicious of Rick’s behavior.

  Before she could pull Vickie aside to ask about it, a wave of exhaustion and nausea washed over her. Maura pushed her chair away from the table, hoping the wave would pass before she had to rush to the restroom. The loud scraping sound stopped the conversation. It also caught the attention of Maura’s granddaughter Kelly from behind the bar, who rushed over.

  “Nana, are you okay? I should get you home.”

  Vickie reached out and took Maura’s hand. “It’ll get better, hon. This is just the chemo talking, not the cancer, and you only have two more treatments to go.”

  Her stomach rolled. She gave up on keeping a brave face. What was the point?

  “Right now, the
chemo is just hell, Vickie. It’s hell.” She blinked away her gathering tears. “I don’t know if I can keep going...”

  “Nana!” Kelly gasped. “Don’t say that!”

  Vickie smiled at Kelly. “Don’t pay your grandmother any mind. Did you know she played Blanche DuBois in the school play the year they did A Streetcar Named Desire?”

  Kelly’s eyes went wide with shock. “Are you saying she’s acting? I can’t believe you—you’re supposed to be her friend.” She urged Maura to her feet. “Come on, Nana, you should get home.”

  Maura had no idea what Vickie was up to, but she couldn’t help but laugh. “For God’s sake, Vickie. You were Blanche in that play.”

  Vickie preened, squirming in her seat and smiling proudly. “True. But you should have been. You knew I wanted it, so you volunteered to be stage manager instead and bossed us all around for weeks.” Vickie winked at Maura. “You took charge and found the role of your life. Not as the diva...”

  Rick huffed out a laugh. “Clearly you nabbed that role.”

  “Screw you, Rick.” The corner of Vickie’s mouth lifted. “But yes, that’s true.”

  Everyone laughed at that, including Maura. These friends had a way of making her laugh, and laughing made her feel more like herself. Like her former self.

  Vickie was enjoying having everyone’s attention. She stood next to Maura and Kelly. “My point is that your grandmother was the best manager ever. And she’s gonna manage this cancer right the hell out of here. And then she’s going to walk her granddaughter down the aisle.”

  She turned back to Maura. “So suck it up, sweetheart. You’re tough. You can outlast chemo and you can beat cancer.”

  Everyone applauded, including Maura. Thank God for friends like this. Kelly nudged her arm, reminding her that she really did need to go home and get some rest. But she’d do it with a smile now.

  * * *

  IF FINN EVER had any doubts about the Irish roots of the McKinnons, they were dispelled at the engagement part Monday night. His engagement party. It was an odd night for a party, but it was when the pub was closed. The McKinnon house was rocking. He’d expected a nice family dinner with a toast to the so-called happy couple or something, but clearly the McKinnons liked to think big.

  There had to be at least fifty people crammed into the house. Every level surface was being used as either a table or a seat. It was a nice house—a Victorian, of course. That’s what Rendezvous Falls was famous for, after all. This was a big one, with a huge foyer and winding mahogany staircase. By the staircase was a table loaded with food. Pocket wooden doors were open to allow traffic to flow from there into a dark paneled library, then through to the dining room, a butler’s pantry, and the kitchen. From the kitchen, the flow moved across the center hall to the living room and smaller parlor at the front of the house. And traffic was definitely moving. And talking. And drinking. And laughing.

  Rick Thomas nudged his elbow, his voice low so no one else would hear. “How’s it feel knowing all this work was done just so you could keep your job?”

  Finn shook his head sharply. At times he wished Rick wasn’t in on the secret, but they’d been friends almost from the moment Finn had arrived in Rendezvous Falls. Rick knew damn well that Finn hadn’t been seeing anyone, so there’d been no point in trying to lie to him. The upside to Rick knowing was that Finn had someone to talk to where he didn’t have to be constantly on guard to avoid slipping up. It had only been a week, and he was exhausted already. “Keep your voice down and quit playin’ about, Rick. I can’t change it now without hurting more people than I already have.” He lifted his chin toward the library. “Besides, this isn’t just about my job anymore.”

  Maura was in an overstuffed leather recliner, with extra pillows behind and around her. The joint pain that had started after her last treatment wasn’t responding to medication yet, but she wore a wide smile as she greeted guests. Her friend, Vickie Something—there was no way Finn was going to remember all these names—was in a wooden dining chair at Maura’s side. Vickie was watching Maura like a worried mother hen. If anyone stayed and talked too long, Vickie stood and gently moved them along to give Maura a chance to rest.

  Bridget said Maura had been getting more forgetful lately. It was something the nurses described to her as chemo brain. It made some people fuzzy-headed and easily confused. That was the other thing Vickie seemed to be doing for her friend—she’d lean over and murmur people’s names as they approached, just in case Maura forgot.

  Rick followed Finn’s gaze and his mouth twisted. “You’ve put me in a hell of a spot, you bastard. You know that, right?” He turned his back to Maura and Vickie, probably to keep them from hearing or seeing what he was talking about. His voice lowered again. “It’s one thing lying to Maura, who I don’t know all that well. But Vickie Pendergast? She’s a good friend, Finn. She may look like an overaged Barbie doll, but she’s smart as a whip and can sniff a lie from twenty yards away.”

  Finn tugged Rick farther from the library doorway. “You’re not lying. You’re just not telling what you know. And you can’t tell anyone, Rick. You know what will happen—one person tells only one person in confidence and that person tells one other person in confidence and pretty soon the whole flippin’ town knows.”

  Rick squinted his eyes, staring at some vague spot over Finn’s left shoulder for a moment as he considered his words. “Vickie will skin me alive if she ever learns the truth and realizes I knew and didn’t tell her.” He scrubbed the back of his neck with his hand and sighed. “But I guess that ship has already sailed. What difference will it make if I keep the secret for a few days or a few weeks? Skinned is skinned either way.”

  “There you are!” Iris Taggart interrupted them. The owner of the Taggart Inn was tough to ignore. She wasn’t a large woman, nor a loud one, but she had a powerful presence. Finn had gotten to know her during his stay at the inn, and he liked her. She was a tough old bird, and reminded him of his granny back in Ireland. Everyone in Sallins feared the wrath of Molly O’Hearn, even as they sat beside the meek-looking woman in church every Sunday.

  Rick rolled his eyes at Iris, but there was warmth under his sarcasm. “Can’t two men have a conversation in peace? What do you want, old woman?”

  Iris swatted Rick’s arm. “You call me an old woman one more time, and you won’t know a peaceful moment again, jackass. I need your partner here. The lucky groom-to-be.” Her head tipped to the side. “I don’t get fooled very often, but you sure fooled me, Finn. I had no idea you were seeing Bridget while staying at the Taggart.” Her eyes bore into him, and it took all of his willpower to keep his innocent expression in place. Jaysus, it felt like she was drilling straight into his brain, looking for...something. Or maybe his guilt was making him paranoid. She patted his arm. “But then again, I was distracted with my grandson’s romance over the holidays, so that probably explains how I missed you and Bridget becoming an item. There must have been something in the air last fall.” She straightened, barely putting any weight on the carved mahogany cane she was using. “Maura wants a word with you, dear.”

  Finn put his hand on his chest. “Me? Why?” Damn, he had to stop acting like a lad with a pocket full of stolen candy. He cleared his throat. “I mean...of course. Should I find Bridget?”

  Iris was already turning away. “Nope. Maura just wants you for now.”

  As he got closer, he could see Maura’s skin had a grayish pallor. This party was probably a bad idea for her, but he could tell the set of her jaw that she was a woman who got her way. Just like Bridget. Vickie jumped to her feet and gestured toward the chair she’d been using. It looked as though it had been borrowed from the dining room.

  “Sit down, Finn. I have to go get a plate for Maura anyway.” He started to object, but she raised her hand to stop him. “Don’t worry about being chivalrous, although it’s sweet. This will be a private conversation,
which will be easier without you having to bend over to hear her.” She gave him a hard stare. Why did he get the feeling Maura’s friends were skeptical of this whole thing? Vickie’s face softened into a smile. “Congratulations, by the way. Life will never be dull with Bridget, that’s for sure. She’s a tough gal, but she’s our tough gal. This town loves the McKinnon family.”

  The words were said with a smile and an airy tone, but Finn didn’t miss the unspoken threat. The town loved the McKinnons and wouldn’t want one of them hurt in any way. He’d have to discuss that with Bridget before they ended this sham engagement. It wouldn’t do any good to keep his job if the whole town hated him for being the evil man who broke the heart of the sweetheart daughter of Rendezvous Falls. He didn’t like the idea of being run out of town on a rail. Vickie headed for the food table, weaving between groups of talking people, and Maura patted the empty chair beside her.

  “Have a seat, young man. I have something for you.”

  Curiosity piqued, he did as she asked.

  “How are you feeling tonight, Maura?”

  She straightened and gave him a bright, if slightly artificial, smile.

  “I’m fine, dear. It’s a lovely party, isn’t it?”

  If that’s how she wanted to play it, he’d go along. He returned her smile, nodding at the festive scarf wrapped around her head.

  “’Tis that. Quite lovely. Those shamrocks suit you.”

  She reached up and touched the soft green-and-white scarf.

  “I thought it was appropriate for tonight.” She leaned toward him. “And speaking of appropriate, there’s still no ring on my granddaughter’s finger.”

  His face went hot. He’d suggested ring shopping before the party, but Bridget kept pushing it off. He should have insisted. Hard to be pretend-engaged without a real ring.

  “I know, and I’m sorry. It all happened so fast, and I want to make sure she likes the ring...”