by Cindy Kline
Reanna just nodded.
Molly didn’t like to see her friend so sad. “But didn’t you say the two of you are planning a trip to France?”
“Yes, but I’ve lost my passport, so the trip is on hold until a copy of my birth certificate arrives. Then I have to apply for a new one, and that will take several weeks.”
“Doesn’t your mum have a copy?” Molly and Reanna, along with Ciara, had been best friends since they were ten and were in and out of each other’s houses for years. Molly knew how organized Samantha West was and found it hard to believe she didn’t have a copy, if not several copies, of Reanna’s birth certificate on hand.
“Probably, but I didn’t want to go to her and tell her I lost my passport. She’s been bugging me for months to put it in a safe deposit box at the bank, and I kept telling her I would.”
Molly smiled. “Ah, but you didn’t?”
“No, so I’m just going to get another one and hope she never knows.”
“Well, if it helps any, I’ve never seen my brother happier, and if he dares break your heart, I promise to beat him up for you.”
Reanna gave her a half-smile. “Thank you.”
“That’s what best friends are for.”
# # #
Molly woke on Monday morning to rain pounding hard on the roof. Gran, always an early riser, had already coerced Luna outside and made pumpkin scones by the time Molly made it downstairs. She poured herself a cup of tea and went and sat at the breakfast nook where Gran was addressing Christmas cards.
Molly took a sip of her tea, “I didn’t realize people still sent those out.” Molly picked up a few cards from the box, looked at one with a scene of baby Jesus lying in the manger and read, “May the holidays bring you joy and light.” Another one with a blue front with very large, silver bells on it, said, “We hope the holidays have you ringing with joy,” and the third one, with snow-covered hills, Santa and his reindeer flying through the starlit night sky said, “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a goodnight.”
“Maybe I should buy some and send them to my clients,” Molly said as she took a bite of a pumpkin scone and practically moaned. “Gran, I swear you should have gone into business with Reanna. These are marvelous.”
She looked up from her card writing and smiled. “Thank you, dear, but those are a mix. All I did was add water. However, the glaze is mine, also easy to make.
“Really? Wow, they’re superb.” Molly looked over at Luna, sleeping in her bed near the fireplace. “Luna appears to have survived her ordeal.”
Gran laughed, “Those boys, I tell you. I am so happy I didn’t have twins. I remember when Aiden and Dillon were that age.”
“What was it Gramps used to say about twins?” Molly took another bite of scone.
Gran smiled as she nodded. “Double the giggles, double the grins, double the trouble when you’re blessed with Irish twins.”
“That’s it! It most definitely applies to Evan and Ethan.” Molly laughed. Then she looked around the cottage. “Gran, I think we need to do some decorating. It doesn’t look very Christmassy.”
“I thought about that too. Did Mrs. Riley leave any decorations?” Gran asked as she added another completed envelope to the stack.
Six months ago, the previous owner had been brutally murdered, and Molly found her body. She was later to find out that not only had Mrs. Riley left her the Book Nook, but also Rose Cottage and all its contents, and boy were there a lot of contents. “I can’t remember if there were any decorations or not, but if there were, they’re in the attic. I can look later.”
“Mine are all in the garage at the manor. I can take a run over there today and bring some back. But we still need a tree.”
“Okay, how about we look for one tonight?”
Gran raised her eyebrows. “Doesn’t the store close at eight on Mondays?”
“Oh, shoot. I forgot we extended our hours for the holiday. How about Wednesday? We close at five. Maybe I can get either Talia or Ciara to cover for me, and I can leave early.”
“Sounds good to me,” Gran said, as she continued writing her Christmas cards.
Two hours later, Molly came out dressed in a pair of khaki pants and a red sweater embroidered with the face of a reindeer, and stood behind the counter at the Book Nook. Her face hurt from smiling, and if she heard one more person come in singing, “Jingle Bells,” she was going to scream.
She had no idea how busy the store would be during the Christmas holidays. It would definitely help keep her bottom line in the black, but it exhausted her. She looked at her watch and groaned. It was only six o’clock, two hours to go.
There was finally a lull in the store, and Molly went back to the breakroom and filled the electric kettle with water. Her sister-in-law, who was also her part-time employee, walked in a few minutes later.
“Did you have any idea it was going to be so busy?” Ciara asked her as she sat down in one of the comfy kitchen chairs at the wooden table.
“I was just thinking the same thing. I know it was quite a while since I worked here as a teenager, but I don’t remember it ever being this busy.”
“Do we have any of those chocolate sticks left?” Ciara got up and opened the cupboard. “Aha!” She pulled out the box and peeked inside. “There are only two left. I’ll split them with you.”
Molly laughed. “How do you have so much energy? I am ready to drop, and my feet are killing me!” She took the chocolate stick Ciara offered as she sat down in the chair across from her and kicked off her boots.
Ciara looked under the table. “No wonder your feet hurt. Those boots you’re wearing are ridiculous! What are those? Four-inch heels?”
Molly grinned, “Actually, five-inch, and they’re usually very comfortable, just not today,” she said as she rubbed her toes. Right then, the electric kettle went off, so Molly, in her stocking feet, got up and pulled some tea bags from the cupboard, adding them to the teapot, then poured the boiling water over them and set it to steep.
“I’m sure part of it has to be all the improvements you’ve made, Molly. The place looks great.”
Molly beamed at the compliment, as she, along with Ciara and the rest of her family and several friends, worked very hard cleaning, reorganizing, and painting the place to make it a friendlier place to visit.
“Thank you. I am pretty proud of myself. However, I couldn’t have done it without everyone’s help,” Molly pulled two cups and saucers out of the cupboard and set them on the counter. She pulled a tray out from a cupboard and set it out. She then gathered the milk and sugar and moved everything to the tray. Once the tea steeped, she poured them each a cup and carried the tray to the table.
“I wanted to thank you, Ciara, for working so many extra hours. Talia should be home from university this week, so she can pick up a couple of days and help us with the extra work.”
“It’s really not an issue. I’ve got child care covered between your mum and Gran, and I am more than happy to work extra hours over the holidays. It gives me more spending money.” She smiled. “I’m looking at buying Aiden a grill and smoker combo, so I just may be able to swing it if I keep working these hours.”
“I appreciate it. I really do,” Molly stirred two teaspoons of sugar in her tea, while Ciara stirred milk into hers. Molly had gotten out of the habit of using milk in her tea while she was living in Michigan. She learned quickly the people in the United States, well, at least Michigan, don’t know how to brew a good cup of tea, and most had never heard of drinking it with milk.
The two women spent the next forty-five minutes restocking shelves. Things picked up again around seven o’clock, and it kept them busy until almost eight. Molly let out a sigh of relief. Her day was almost over. She was looking forward to a fine glass of wine and whatever leftovers she could find when she got home.
Molly was counting out the cash register when the bells over the door chimed and a gentleman walked in.
Chapter Two
Hen
ry Bruce Pierce was sitting in the president’s office of Moore Plastics. He’d wanted this position for so long, but not like this. His father-in-law, Ronan Moore, passed away two weeks ago and left the company to him. He was still in shock. It should be Patrick sitting here, not him. He swiveled his chair around and looked out the window onto the December day; the rain pelting down onto the green, rugged Irish land spread out three stories below.
Patrick was his best friend, who brought him back from the brink of destruction, who got him his first job at Moore Plastics thirty years ago. Ronan, Patrick’s father, who took him under his wing, paid for his education and helped make him the man he was today. He was no longer the spoiled, selfish youth he once was. He owed Ronan so much. Imogen, his wife of twenty years, who he loved dearly, who he thought was sometimes more ambitious for him than he was himself, helped him get here as well. It helped that Ronan was her father. A cramp hit his stomach right then, sweat breaking out on his forehead. These damn ulcers, he thought.
Just then, the door opened, and he swung his chair back around to see Megan, his assistant and current lover, come through the door, an enormous smile on her beautiful face, and a box in her hand, tied with a red bow.
“Can you believe it? We’re finally here.” She looked around the office, then back at him and grinned. “You look so good in that chair.” She closed the door, moving around the boxes piled in front of his desk. “I have someone coming to pick up these boxes today. They’ll be out of your way soon and put into storage. I packed up everything other than files pertaining to the last six months, just like you asked—oh, other than the newsletters. I swear Ronan had every issue. I moved those to the breakroom.”
She came around his desk and tried to sit in his lap, but he stopped her with his arm.
“Not here, Megan. You know the rules.” He didn’t need to look at her face to know he upset her. He sighed. He never should have gotten involved with her in the first place, but he would deal with that later. She set the gift down in front of him.
“This is for you.”
He looked at the rectangular box, the red ribbon tied to it. “Christmas isn’t for two weeks.” He was normally the one who bought her gifts. He opened it to find a gold-plated letter opener with his initials engraved on it.
“This is very nice, Megan. Thank you.”
She tapped some files lying on his desk with her long fingernails. “Do these need to be filed?”
He shook his head, “Those need to go into the safe.”
Ronan’s safe, hallowed ground. His stomach lurched, and he looked at the far wall. “You know, I haven’t even looked in it yet. As territorial as Ronan was, I expect there to be the original document from Ireland’s independence in there.” Megan sat down in the leather chair on the opposite side of his desk and crossed her legs, giving him a delightful view of her thigh.
Megan smiled, her red lips taunting him. He cleared his throat and looked at her, “I can’t remember what I did with the combination.”
Megan shook her head, pointing to the drawer to his left, “Check your locked drawer.”
“Did Noah get back from university all right?” He took the keys from his pocket and unlocked the drawer, digging through it until he found the long, white envelope with the lawyer’s address in the left-hand corner.
“Aye, he did. I don’t know why he even came home, though. He’ll be back for the holidays in just a few days.”
“Probably a girl in the picture somewhere.” Henry turned over the envelope and, using the brand-new letter opener, sliced a clean cut through the flap. He got out of his chair, walked to the safe behind the large art piece of Irish landscape on the wall, and read the numbers on the paper. The safe opened without a problem. He pulled out the contents and frowned. There was just one file. He took it out and set it on his desk, then put the combination back in the envelope, and the envelope back into the drawer and locked it.
“That’s it? Just one file?” Megan sat up straighter in her chair.
“I’m quite surprised too.” He set it on this desk. “And I don’t think it’s the original document of Ireland’s independence.” He smiled. “Ronan always kept the contents such a secret. I figured it was full of contracts and such.” Henry opened the file and began to read, his eyes widening as he did so. He quickly closed the file and looked at Megan. “Don’t you have some work to do?”
She stood up and straightened her dress, “Oh, of course.”
As soon as she left, he opened it back up and continued to read, his eyes getting wider and his heart sinking the further he read. He couldn’t help but notice the date on the file was three days before Ronan died. After he’d finished, he took the file, scanned each page on the printer in his office, emailed it to himself, then put the file back in the safe until he decided what to do with it. He then took a thumb drive out of his desk and copied the file onto it. He deleted the email from his computer and stuck the thumb drive in his pocket.
Henry worked through the day, trying not to think about the files. He looked through his desk drawer for his ulcer pills, not understanding why his stomach was bothering him so much. He slammed the drawer in frustration. He’d have to take some when he got home. He looked at his watch and saw it was half-past four, so he got up from his desk, grabbed his jacket from the wall hook and left his office.
“Megan, I’m taking off. I left you some dictation on my desk. I’m headed home.”
Her long, red hair was up in a chignon, wisps falling around her face. She was fidgeting with the pen she held in her hand as she looked at him, “Your wife is out of town right now, isn’t she?”
He sighed. “Yes. She went to Dublin to see Rory and do some Christmas shopping.”
“And your mother-in-law?”
He wanted to lie to her but didn’t. “She went with Imogen, but look. I’m not feeling well, and I just want to be alone, okay?”
He didn’t wait for an answer, and a few minutes later, he ran through the rain to his car and started it up. Rather than going home, he drove aimlessly, the wipers on full blast.
He now understood why Ronan didn’t give the combination to the safe to anyone, but why even keep the file? The information can’t be correct. He’d have to do some investigating on his own. Regardless of the contents, he was still one of the luckiest men alive. He had a lovely home overlooking the Atlantic Ocean, a wonderful wife who adored him and a son in his first year at Trinity College. He was the president of Moore Plastics, a company he’d worked at for over thirty years, and was making good money. Why hadn’t Ronan destroyed that first file when he received it? Did anyone else know about the file’s existence? He hoped not. He would destroy it first thing in the morning.
He drove around, slowing the car wipers as the rain went from a deluge to a downpour, his thoughts in the past. Although he grew up in Dooley, he moved to Dublin thirty-four years ago. His parents and younger sister moved to France shortly afterward, and other than helping them clean out the house they’d lived in for almost thirty years, he hadn’t been back. He didn’t want to dwell on the car accident that took their lives, along with the life of his sister, Alaina, ten years ago. How he missed them all. Guilt at not visiting enough tore at his gut that was already gnawing at him. The cramps had subsided, but not much. What’s with the numbness in his hand? He clenched his fist and then flexed his fingers a few times, but it didn’t help. What was going on?
When keeping Moore Plastics in Dublin was no longer a viable financial option, Ronan begun looking for alternatives. Why Henry had suggested Dooley as an option for where to move the company, he’d never know. Maybe a hidden desire to come back to the place where he’d once been young and carefree? Regardless of why he’d suggested it, Ronan visited the place and loved it. Within a year, the factory in Dublin had been closed, and the new factory opened in Dooley. Many of their employees from Dublin moved with them, but not all, and they’d hired over two hundred locals, helping the economy of the small-town boom.
Henry hadn’t been into town at all since he’d moved. He’d been too busy closing the Dublin factory and making sure the facility here was up and running. He drove through the downtown area now, barely noticing the colorful storefronts as another cramp hit his stomach. He parked the car and set his head back on the seat. He really needed to go home and take some medicine. He’d taken some this morning, but it had worn off hours ago.
He must have fallen asleep because when he opened his eyes, it was dark. He looked at his watch; it was almost eight. Henry looked around, and the only place with a light on was the Book Nook. He remembered the bookstore from when he was young, visiting it anytime he’d had extra money, even working there for a short time because he never had enough cash for the books he wanted. It was owned by a lovely couple back then, but I couldn’t remember their names.
Henry pulled himself out of his car and made his way to the front door. He noticed the sign saying they closed at eight but walked in regardless.
The store had changed since he was a kid, but then, hadn’t everything? There was a young woman at the counter, her strawberry blond hair shining in the fluorescent lights. She was average height, counting out the money from the till. The doorbell chimed as I walked in, and she looked up with a smile. Bing Crosby was crooning about Christmas in Killarney over the loudspeakers.
“I’m sorry. We’re just about to close. Would you be able to come back in the morning?”
She was beautiful: an oval face, bright green eyes and the smile of an angel.
“Are you okay, sir?”
“Not really. Would it be possible for me to get a glass of water?” A dizzy spell hit him right then, and he grabbed the first thing he could find, which was the counter. “Maybe use your restroom?”
When Henry returned, the woman was back at the cash register. She nodded at the bottle of water sitting on the counter. He had just opened it when another woman appeared from the back. “Everything’s all set back there, Molly. Are you ready to go?” She stopped when she saw him. “Oh, I didn’t realize we had a customer.”
