by Nora Roberts
of such matters when love walks in?”
“It does when it only walks through one of the doors and the other stays shut.”
“You don’t have much confidence in me, for finding a way of opening a closed door if I put my mind to it.”
“Shawn, I don’t want to hurt you, and neither would Brenna, but she told me straight out that she only wanted to sleep with you.”
“She was clear enough about what she wanted.” This time he smiled. “I want more. What’s wrong with wanting more?”
“This isn’t the time to throw my own words back at my head. I’m worried for you.”
“Don’t be.” He washed the largest of the bowls by hand rather than crowd the dishwasher. “I know what I’m about. I can’t help my feelings. And before you say it,” he continued, “I know she can’t help hers either. But what’s wrong with doing what I can to change her feelings?”
“The minute she thinks you’re courting her—”
But I won’t be. She’ll be courting me.”
Darcy’s first response was a snort, but then she stopped, considered. “Aren’t you the clever one?” she murmured.
“Clever enough to know Brenna will prefer to do the persuading rather than be the persuaded.” He checked his tarts, adjusted the heat. “I expect what we’ve said here to stay here, between the two of us.”
“As if I’d go running off to tell Brenna what falls out of your mouth.” Insulted, she grabbed a tray. His stare from under raised brows made her relent. “All right, in the general way of things that’s what I do, but this is a different matter. You can trust me.”
He knew he could. She might try to fracture his skull with a flying plate, but Darcy would bite off her tongue before betraying a confidence. “I suppose that means you won’t be carrying back to me whatever she might have to say, about . . . certain things.”
“It does, indeed. Look for your spies elsewhere, my lad.” Nose in the air, she started to flounce out. Then there came a hiss of breath from her and she stopped. “She doesn’t think she’s built in a particularly attractive way.”
Since it was the last thing he’d expected to hear, Shawn merely stared until Darcy cursed under her breath.
“I’m only telling you because she never said it outright to me in just those words. But she thinks of her body as a practical thing, and not as female as it could be. She doesn’t think men find her particularly attractive—female-like. And that’s why the sex is just sex in her thinking. She doesn’t believe a man might look at her in a romantic or tender sort of way.”
She paused a moment, tried not to wonder if Brenna would forgive her if her friend knew she’d said such things. “A woman likes to be told . . . well, if you’ve any brain in your head, you should know what a woman likes to be told. And it’s not a matter of just grabbing hold of what’s different from yours, but telling . Now, close your mouth because you look half-witted.”
She let the door swing shut behind her.
FOURTEEN
“AND YOU’LL REMEMBER Dennis Magee who went off to America—well, neither of us remembers it precisely, as it’s been fifty years if it’s a day and we weren’t yet born, or barely so in my own case, at the time he left Old Parish. But you’ll remember hearing of it and how he made his fortune with land and building and such over in New York City.” Kathy Duffy sat cozily in the O’Tooles’ kitchen, sipping tea and nibbling on iced cakes—though if truth be known the batter could have used just a splash more vanilla—while she shared news and gossip.
As she was used to having ten words to say for anyone else’s one, she didn’t notice her friend’s distraction, but kept chattering away with the hottest bulletin in Old Parish.
“Always a clever one, was Dennis. So everyone who knew him said. And he married Deborah Casey, who was a cousin of my mother’s and was reputed to have a good head on her shoulders as well. Off they went, across the foam with their firstborn still in short pants. They did well for themselves in America, built up a fine business. You know Old Maude was betrothed to the John Magee who was lost in the war, and he was brother to Dennis. In all these years,” Kathy went on as she licked a bit of icing from her finger, “it seems Dennis never did look back to Ireland, or the place where he was born. But he had himself a son, and the son a son. And that one, he’s looking right enough.”
She waited a beat, and Mollie roused herself to raise her eyebrows. “Is he?”
“He is, yes. And he’s got his sights set on Ardmore. Planning to build a theater here.”
“Oh, yes.” Mollie stirred the tea she’d yet to taste. “I heard Brenna talking about it.” Distracted she was, but not so deeply that she didn’t notice Kathy’s crestfallen expression. “I don’t have the details of it,” she said, to smooth her friend’s feathers.
“Well, then.” Delighted, Kathy edged forward. “There’s a deal being done between the Magees in New York City and the Gallaghers. The word ’round is they’ll be building the theater onto the pub. A kind of music hall if I’m hearing correctly. Imagine that, Mollie, a music hall right in Ardmore, and with the Gallaghers having their fingers in it.”
“If it’s to be, I’d be happier knowing one of our own had some say in the matter. Do you know if Dennis Magee, the younger, will be coming back to Ardmore?”
“I don’t see how the matter can be done otherwise.” Kathy sat back, patted her hair. Her niece had given her a home perm the week before, and she was well pleased with it. Each curl was like a soldier tucked up in his bedroll.
“Dennis and I had a bit of a flirt when we were both young and foolish and he came to visit one summer back some years.” Kathy’s eyes went dreamy as she looked back. “On his grand tour, was he, and wanted to see the place where his parents had been born and reared and where he himself spent the first years of his life. He was a fine-looking man, Dennis Magee, as I recall him.”
“The way I remember things, you had a bit of a flirt with every fine-looking man before you plucked the one you were after.”
Kathy’s eyes went bright with humor. “What’s the point of being young and foolish if you do otherwise?”
Because it was one of the things worrying her, Mollie managed a wan smile and let her old friend settle back into chattering.
Mollie was certain that her oldest daughter was having a great deal more than a flirtation with Shawn Gallagher. That wasn’t such a shock, not really, but the fact that Brenna wasn’t talking of it with her was both a shock and a concern. She’d raised her girls to know there was nothing they couldn’t share with their mother.
She’d known the night her Maureen had fallen in love, as the girl had come in flushed and laughing and full of the wonder of it. And when Kevin had asked her Patty to marry, she’d known the minute her girl had come into the house and thrown herself weeping into her mother’s arms. That was the way with them, Maureen laughing over joys and Patty weeping over them.
But Brenna, the most practical of her children, had done neither, nor had she, as Mollie had expected, sat down and spoken of what had changed with Shawn.
Hadn’t she left that very morning saying that she would be staying over with Darcy that night and not quite looking her mother in the eye when she lied? It hurt, knowing your child had the need to lie to you.
“Where have you gone off to?”
“Hmm?” Mollie focused on Kathy’s face again, shook her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t seem to keep my mind on things these days.”
“It’s no wonder. You’ve one daughter married only months ago, and another planning her wedding. Is it making you blue?”
“A little, I suppose.” Because she’d let her tea go cold and Kathy’s cup was empty, Mollie rose to pour hers down the sink and refill both cups with fresh. “I’m proud of them, happy for them, but . . .”
“They grow up so much faster than ever you think.”
“They do. One minute I’m scrubbing faces, and the next I’m buying wedding gowns.” To her surprise, h
elpless tears rushed to her eyes. “Oh, Kathy.”
“There, now, darling.” She took both of Mollie’s hands and squeezed. “I felt the same way when mine left the nest.”
“It’s Patty’s doing.” Sniffling, Mollie dug a handkerchief out of her pocket. “I never cried with Maureen except at the wedding. Thought I’d go mad from time to time as my Maureen wouldn’t settle for less than perfection, and her idea of it changed daily. But Patty, she gets weepy if we talk about what flowers she’ll have. I swear to you, Kathy, I live in fear that the child will bawl her way down the aisle to poor Kevin. People would think we’ve a gun to her head, forcing her to take her vows.”
“Oh, now, nothing of the sort. Patty’s your sentimentalone. She’ll make a lovely bride, tears and all.”
“Of course she will.” But Mollie indulged herself with a few tears of her own. “Then there’s Mary Kate. She’s taken to mooning about—over some boy, I’m sure—and brooding and closing herself off to write in her diary. Half the time she won’t let Alice Mae in the room.”
“Sure, there’s probably a lad at the hotel she fancies herself in love with. Is it worrying you?”
“Not overmuch, I suppose. Mary Kate’s a great brooder, and she’s of an age where having her younger sister in her pocket becomes a trial.”
“Just growing pains. You’ve done a fine job of mothering your girls, Mollie. They’re a credit to you, each and every one. Not that that stops a woman from worrying over her chicks. Well, at least Brenna’s not giving you any grief at the moment.”
Carefully, Mollie lifted her cup and sipped. “Brenna’s steady as a rock,” she said. There were some things you couldn’t share, even with a friend.
With the pub closed for an hour between shifts, Aidan stuck his head in the kitchen. “Can you leave that for a few minutes?”
Shawn cast a look around the general disorder caused by a busy afternoon crowd. “Without a second’s hesitation. Why?”
“There’s something to talk about, and I want a walk.” Shawn tossed his dishcloth aside. “Where?”
“The beach’ll do.” Aidan came through the kitchen and started out the back door. He paused there a moment, studying the slight rise of land, the tidiness of it before it gave way to a smattering of trees the wind had bent seaward.
“Second thoughts?” Shawn asked him. “
“No, not about this.” But he continued to look and measure. The shops and cottages that ran along the sides of his pub, the back gardens, the ancient dog who lay claim to a shady spot for a nap, the corner at the far end of their land where he’d kissed his first girl.
“It’ll change more than a little,” Aidan mused. “
“It will. It changed when Shamus Gallagher put up the walls of the pub. And every one of us since has changed it in one way or the other. This is your change.”
“Ours.” Aidan said it quickly, as it was very much on his mind. “That’s one of the things we’ll talk about. I didn’t catch Darcy. The girl was out of the place like a ball from a cannon. Do you remember playing out here?”
“I do.” Absently, Shawn rubbed his nose. “Aye, that I do.”
With a quick laugh, Aidan walked around the side. “I’d forgotten that. We had a ball game going out back from time to time, and that’s where Brenna rapped one right in your face. Christ, you bled like a pig.”
“The bat was as near as big as she was.”
“True enough, but the lass has always had an arm on her. I remember you lying there, cursing and bleeding, and when she saw it was no more than your nose that was broken, she told you to stop shouting and offer it up. We had some fine games back of the pub.”
“Impending fatherhood’s making you sentimental.”
“Maybe it is.” They crossed the street, quiet this time of day, this time of year. “Spring’s coming,” Aidan added as they worked their way down to the curve of beach. “And the tourists and holidayers come with it. Winter’s short in Ardmore.”
Shawn dipped his hands in his pocket. There was still a bit of bite to the wind. “You won’t hear me complaining over that.”
Sand crunched softly under boots as they walked west. Where it met the horizon, the water was a dreamy blue. Here, where it rolled to land, it fumed, white against green, driven by small, choppy waves. Their tips sparkled in the generous stream of sun.
They walked in silence, away from the boats already docked for the day, and the nets hung for drying, and toward the cliffs that layered their way up toward the sky.
“I spoke with Dad this morning.”
“He’s well? And Ma, too?”
“They’re well and fine. He’s expecting to meet with the lawyers early next week. Papers, at least some of them, should be ready to sign. He’s decided, while he’s about that, to have more drawn up. Papers that would put the pub in my name, in a legal way.”
“It’s time for that, as we’ve known they’ve found their spot in Boston.”
“I told him my thoughts, and I’ll tell you. I feel it would be better, and more fair, if the pub was titled between the three of us.”
When a shell caught his eye, Shawn bent, picked it up, examined it. “That’s not our way.”
Which had been precisely what his father had said. Aidan hissed out a breath, paced off, then back. “Christ, you’re more like him than any of us.”
“Sure, that doesn’t sound like a compliment to either our father or myself just at the moment.” Tickled, Shawn stood where he was while Aidan paced a bit more.
“It wasn’t meant as one. You’ve both heads like bricks about certain things. Wasn’t it you who just spoke of change as a good thing? If we can change the pub, why the devil can’t we change the way it’s passed down?”
Absently, Shawn tucked the shell in his pocket. “ Because some things you change, and some you don’t.”
“Who decides, I’d like to know?”
Shawn cocked his head. “We do. You’re outnumbered on this, Aidan, so let it go. Gallagher’s is yours, and you’ll pass it down to the child Jude’s already carrying. It doesn’t make it less ours, Darcy’s and mine, not the heart of it.”
“I’m talking about a legal matter.”
“Exactly. It’s going to be a fine, fresh evening,” Shawn said, considering the matter closed. “Business should be good.”
“What about your children when you have them?” Aidan asked. “Don’t you want them to have some legal standing in all of it?”
“So why does it have to get legal all of a sudden?”
“Because it’s changing, Shawn.” Exasperation sparked from him as he threw up his hands. “The theater changes Ardmore, changes Gallagher’s. Changes us.”
“It doesn’t, not the way you’re worrying right now. More people will come, for different reasons,” Shawn mused, trying to see it in his mind. “Another B and B might pop up along the way, and someone might be inclined to open another shop along the water. But Gallagher’s will still be serving food and drink, and offering music as it always has. One of us will man the bar. And while we’re about it, the boats will go out, nets’ll be cast. Life goes on as it means to, whatever you do about it.”
“Or whatever you don’t?” Aidan asked.
“Well, now, some might disagree with that. It’s the business of it that’s weighing on you, Aidan. And better you than me. I mean it sincerely. Carrying the Gallagher name is standing enough, legal or otherwise, for my needs.”
Shawn turned back so he could look at the pub, the dark wood, the cobbled stone, the etched glass that caught winks of sunlight. “It’s done well enough till now, hasn’t it? When the time comes, your children, and mine and Darcy’s, will work it out for themselves.”
“You might marry a woman with other ideas.”
Shawn thought of Brenna, shook his head. “If a woman didn’t believe in me and my family enough to trust in this, I’d have no business marrying her.”
“You don’t know what it is to be in love beyond reason.
I’d have walked away from here, from this, from everyone, if she’d asked it of me or wanted it so.”
“She didn’t ask it of you, or want it so. You might have desired a woman who would have, Aidan, but you’d never have lost your heart to her.”
Aidan started to speak, then huffed out a breath first. “An answer for everything. And it’s not a little vexing that each one seems a right one.”
“I’ve given the matter some thought over time. Now you give me one, as I’ve a question. When you love a woman, beyond reason, does it hurt, or give you pleasure?”
“Both, very often at the same time.”
Shawn nodded as they started back. “I thought that might be the case, but it’s interesting to hear it confirmed.”
It was a fair and fresh evening, and business was brisk as the wind that tripped in over the sea. Music drew customers, some to listen while they sipped their pints, others to join in on the chorus, and more than a few who found the music pulled them to their feet to dance.
Despite the fast pace, Shawn found time to pop out now and then. And once, watching Brenna circling the tables in a pretty waltz with old Mr. Riley, he pondered an idea.
“I’ve a notion here, Aidan.” Shawn served two orders of fish and chips at the bar himself. He took a glass to pull himself a Harp and cut his thirst. “You see Brenna dancing there?”
“I do.” Aidan topped off the last layer of two Guinnesses. “But I don’t believe she’s running off with him to Sligo, no matter how often she promises.”
“Women are born to deceive a man.” Taking his moment, Shawn sipped, enjoying the way Brenna moved in the old man’s bony arms. “But I’m watching them, and the others who’ll get up now and then, and I wonder wouldn’t it be interesting if when we shuffle things about with the theater, we found someplace for dancing.”
“That’s what the stage is for now, isn’t it?”
“Not professional dancing, but this sort. You know, how they do in a beer garden, but I’m thinking more intimate.”
“Well, you’re thinking that’s for certain.” But Aidan paused long enough to watch, scan the faces, consider. “It’s something we might slide around with Magee when we get to the design of it all.”
“Ah, Brenna, she had a kind of design she sketched up. I have it in the kitchen still. Maybe you’d like to take a look, and if you like what you see, you might be interested in the more formal drawing I asked her to do.”
Intrigued, Aidan looked away from the dancing and into his brother’s eyes. “You asked her, did you?”
“I did, because I think she knows what we want and what Magee should build. Is that a problem for you?”
“Not a problem, no problem at all. It’s making me think, Shawn, that you had it right about the legalities of things not changing the heart. I’d like to see what our Brenna has in her mind.”
“That’s fine, then. And if you like what you see, you could send it off to Magee for his thoughts.”
“I could, but I’d think the man would have his own designers.”
“Then we’ll have to find a way to bring him ’round to it, if it’s what we want. Couldn’t hurt,” Shawn murmured, still watching Brenna, “to have our fingers in it early on.”
“It couldn’t,” Aidan agreed.
However prettily Brenna could dance, Aidan needed her back behind the bar shortly. He caught her eye, sent her a quick signal. But even as she acknowledged it, he saw her gaze slip past him to Shawn. Even though he was a bystander, Aidan felt the heat of it.
“I’ll thank you not to distract my bartender when we’re three-deep around here.”
“I’m just standing, drinking my beer.”
Well, stand and drink in the kitchen, unless you’re after having half the customers raising their eyebrows over the pair of you.”
“It wouldn’t bother me.” He held the look another moment, a kind of test. “But it does her.” Because it would annoy him if he dwelt on it, Shawn slipped back into the kitchen.
It wasn’t a problem to keep himself busy until closing, and he calculated another hour at least to clean up before he could call it a night.
He was scouring pots when one of the musicians strolled in. She was a pretty blonde named Eileen, with sharp features and hair chopped short to show them off. She had a fine, clear voice and a warm disposition. Shawn had admired the first and taken advantage of the second, in a friendly sort of way, when her band had been booked at Gallagher’s before.
“We did well by each other tonight.”
That we did.” He rinsed off the pot, and angling his body toward her, started on the next. “I liked the arrangement you’ve put together for ‘Foggy Dew.’ ”
“It’s the first time we’ve tried it outside of rehearsal.” She walked to him, turning to lean back against the sink while he worked. “I’ve been working on a couple of other numbers. I wouldn’t mind running them by you.” She ran her fingertip down his arm. “I don’t have to be back tonight. Would you care to put me up as you did last time?”
