Authors: Nora Roberts
"Would you do that? We'll put our bags away, shall we, Johnny? Then perhaps we can all have a nice chat."
Iris exclaimed over the stairway as they climbed it, the upstairs hall, the room Brianna escorted them into. Wasn't the bedspread charming, the lace curtains lovely, the view from the window superb?
In short order Brianna found herself in the kitchen brewing another pot of tea while her new guests sat at the table making themselves at home. Iris happily bounced Liam on her lap.
"Hell of a team, aren't they?" Gray murmured, helping by getting out cups and plates.
"She makes me dizzy," Brianna whispered. "But it's impossible not to like her."
"Exactly. You'd never believe there was an unscrupulous thought in her head. Everyone's favorite aunt or amusing neighbor. Maybe you should hide that silver after all."
"Hush." Brianna turned away to carry plates to the table. Carstairs immediately helped himself to the bread and jam.
"I do hope you'll join us," Iris began, choosing a scone, dipping into the clotted cream. "Johnny, dear, we do want to get business over with, don't we? So distressing to have business clouding the air."
"Business?" Brianna took Liam again, settled him on her shoulder.
"Unfinished business." Carstairs dabbed his mouth with a napkin. "I say, Brianna, this bread is tasty. Have a bit, do, Iris."
"Johnny rhapsodized over your cooking. I'm afraid I got a teeny bit jealous. I'm a fair cook myself, you know."
"A brilliant cook," a loyal Carstairs corrected, snatching his wife's hand and kissing it lavishly. "A magnificent cook."
"Oh, Johnny, you do go on." She giggled girlishly before swatting him aside. Then she pursed her lips and blew him several quick kisses. The byplay had Gray wiggling his brows at Brianna. "But I can see why he was so taken with the table you set, Brianna." She nibbled delicately on her scone. "We must find time to exchange some recipes while we're here. My speciality is a chicken and oyster dish. And if I do say so myself, it's rather tasty. The trick is to use a really good wine, a dry white, you see. And a hint of tarragon. But there I go, running on again, and we haven't dealt with our business."
She reached for another scone, gesturing to the empty chairs. "Do sit down, won't you? So much cozier to talk business over tea."
Agreeably Gray sat and began to fill his plate. "Want me to take the kid?" he asked Brianna.
"No, I've got him." She sat with Liam resting comfortably in the curve of her arm.
"What an angel," Iris cooed. "And you've such an easy way with babies. Johnny and I always regretted not having any ourselves. But then, we were always off having an adventure, so our lives were full."
"Adventures," Brianna repeated. An interesting term, she thought, for bilking.
"We were a naughty pair." Iris laughed, and the gleam in her eyes said she understood Brianna's sentiments exactly. "But what fun we had. It wouldn't be quite right to say we were sorry for it, when we enjoyed it so much. But then, one does get older."
"One does," Carstairs agreed. "And one sometimes loses the edge." He sent Gray a mild look. "Ten years ago, lad, you'd never have pinched my wallet."
"Don't bet on it." Gray sipped at his tea. "I was even better ten years ago."
Carstairs tossed back his head and laughed. "Didn't I tell you he was a pistol, Iris? Oh, I wish you'd have seen him button me down in Wales, my heart. I was filled with admiration. I hope you'll consider returning the wallet to me, Grayson. At least the photographs. The identification is easily replaced, but I'm quite sentimental over the photos. And, of course, the cash."
Gray's smile was quick and wolfish. "You still owe me a hundred pounds. Johnny."
Carstairs cleared his throat. "Naturally. Unquestionably. I only took yours, you see, to make it seem like a burglary."
"Naturally," Gray agreed. "Unquestionably. I believe we discussed compensation in Wales, before you had to leave so unexpectedly."
"I do apologize. You'd pinned me down, you see, and I didn't feel comfortable coming to a firm agreement without consulting Iris first."
"We're strong advocates of full partnership," Iris put in.
"Indeed." He gave his wife's hand an affectionate pat. "I can truthfully say that all our decisions are a matter of teamwork. We feel that, combined with deep affection, is why we've had forty-three successful years together."
"And, of course, a good sex life," Iris said comfortably, smiling when Brianna choked over her tea. "Marriage would be rather dull otherwise, don't you think?"
"Yes, I'm sure you're right." This time Brianna cleared her throat. "I think I understand why you've come, and I appreciate it. It's good to clear the air over it."
"We did want to apologize in person for any distress we've caused you. And I wanted to add my sympathies over my Johnny's clumsy and completely ill-advised search of your lovely home." She cut a stern look at her husband. "It lacked all finesse, Johnny."
"It did. Indeed it did." He bowed his head. "I'm thoroughly ashamed."
Brianna wasn't entirely certain of that, but shook her head. "Well, there was no real harm done, I suppose."
"No harm!" Iris took up the gauntlet. "Brianna, my dear girl, I'm sure you were furious, and rightly so. And distressed beyond belief."
"It made her cry."
"Grayson." Embarrassed now, Brianna stared into her teacup. "It's done."
"I can only imagine how you must have felt." Iris's voice had softened. "Johnny knows how I feel about my things. Why, if I came home and found everything topsy-turvy, I'd be devastated. Simply devastated. I only hope you can forgive him for the regrettable impulse, and for thinking like a man."
"I do. I have. I understand he was under a great deal of pressure, and-" Brianna broke off, lifting her head when
she realized she was defending the man who had cheated her father and invaded her home.
"What a kind heart you have." Iris streamed into the breech. "Now if we could touch on this uncomfortable business of the stock certificate one last time. First, let me say it was very broad-minded, very patient of you not to contact the authorities after Wales."
"Gray said you'd be back."
"Clever boy," Iris murmured.
"And I didn't see any point in it." With a sigh Brianna picked up a finger of bread and nibbled. "It was long ago, and the money my father lost was his to lose. Knowing the circumstances was enough to satisfy me."
"You see, Iris, it's just as I told you."
"Johnny." Her voice was suddenly commanding. The look that passed between them held until Carstairs let out a long breath and dropped his gaze.
"Yes, Iris, of course. You're quite right. Quite right." Rallying, he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, drew out an envelope. "Iris and I have discussed this at length, and we would very much like to settle the matter to everyone's satisfaction. With our apologies, dear," he said, handing Brianna the envelope. "And our best wishes."
Uneasy, she lifted the flap. Her heart careened to her stomach and up to her throat. "It's money. Cash money."
"A check would make bookkeeping difficult," Carstairs explained. "And then there's the taxes that would be involved. A cash transaction saves us both from that inconvenience. It's ten thousand pounds. Irish pounds."
"Oh, but I couldn't-"
"Yes, you can," Gray interrupted.
"It isn't right."
She started to hand the envelope back to Carstairs. His eyes lit up briefly, his fingers reached out. And his wife swatted them away.
"Your young man is correct in the matter, Brianna. This is quite right, for everyone involved. You needn't worry that the money will make an appreciable difference in our lives. We do quite well. It would ease my mind, and my heart, if you'd accept it. And," she added, "return the certificate to us."
"Rogan has it," Brianna said.
"No, I got it back from him." Gray rose, slipped into Brianna's rooms.
"Take the money, Brianna," Iris said gently. "Put it away now, in your apron pocket. I'd consider it a great favor."
"I don't understand you."
"I don't suppose you do. Johnny and I don't regret the way we lived. We enjoyed every minute of it. But a little insurance toward redemption wouldn't hurt." She smiled, reached over to squeeze Brianna's hand. "I'd look on it as a kindness. Both of us would. Isn't that right, Johnny?"
He gave the envelope one last, longing look. "Yes, dear."
Gray walked back in, holding the certificate. "Yours, I believe."
"Yes. Yes, indeed." Eager now, Carstairs took the paper. Adjusting his glasses, he peered at it. "Iris," he said with pride as he tilted the certificate for her to study as well. "We did superior work, didn't we? Absolutely flawless."
"We did, Johnny, dear. We certainly did."
Chapter Twenty-two
"I have never in the whole of my life had a finer moment of satisfaction." All but purring, Maggie stretched out in the passenger seat of Brianna's car. She sent one last glance behind at their mother's house as her sister pulled into the street.
"Gloating isn't becoming, Margaret Mary."
"Becoming or not, I'm enjoying it." She shifted, reaching out to put a rattle in Liam's waving hand as he sat snug in his safety seat in the back. "Did you see her face, Brie? Oh, did you see it?"
"I did." Her dignity slipped just a moment, and a grin snuck through. "At least you had the good sense not to rub her nose in it."
"That was the bargain. We'd tell her only that the money came from an investment Da made before he died. One that recently paid off. And I would resist, no matter how it pained me, pointing out that she didn't deserve her third of it as she never believed in him."
"The third of the money was rightfully hers, and that should be the end of it."
"I'm not going to badger you about it. I'm much too busy gloating." Savoring, Maggie hummed a little. "Tell me what are your plans for yours?"
"I've some ideas for improvements on the cottage. The attic room for one, which started the whole business."
As Liam cheerfully flung the first one aside, Maggie pulled out another rattle. "I thought we were going to Gal-way to shop."
"We are." Grayson had badgered her into the idea and had all but booted her out of her own front door. She smiled now, thinking of it. "I've a mind to buy me one of those professional food processors. The ones they use in restaurants and on the cookery shows."
"That would have pleased Da very much." Maggie's grin softened into a smile. "It is like a gift from him, you know."
"I'm thinking of it that way. It seems right if I do. What about you?"
"I'll shovel some into the glass house. The rest goes away for Liam. I think Da would have wanted it." Idly she ran her fingers over the dashboard. "It's a nice car you've got here, Brie."
"It is." She laughed and told herself she'd have to thank Gray for pushing her out of the house for the day. "Imagine, me driving to Galway without worrying something's going to fall off. It's so like Gray to give outrageous gifts and make it seem natural."
"That's the truth. The man hands me a diamond pin as cheerfully as if it's a clutch of posies. He has a lovely, generous heart."
"He does."
"Speaking of him, what's he up to?"
"Well, he's either working or being entertained by the Carstairs."
"What characters. Do you know Rogan tells me when they went to the gallery, they tried to charm him into selling them the antique table in the upstairs sitting room?"
"Doesn't surprise me in the least. She's nearly talked me into buying, sight unseen, a lamp she says will be perfect for my parlor. A fine discount she'll give me, too." Brianna chuckled. "I'll miss them when they leave tomorrow."
"I have a feeling they'll be back." She paused. "When does Gray go?"
"Probably next week." Brianna kept her eyes on the road and her voice even. "He's doing no more than tinkering on the book now, from what I can tell."
"And do you think he'll be back?"
"I hope he will. But I won't count on it. I can't."
"Have you asked him to stay?"
"I can't do that, either."
"No," Maggie murmured. "You couldn't. Nor could I under the same circumstances." Still, she thought, he's a bloody fool if he leaves. "Would you like to close up the cottage for a few weeks, or have Mrs. O'Malley look after it? You could come to Dublin, or use the villa."
"No, though it's sweet of you to think of it. I'll be happier at home."
That was probably true, Maggie thought, and didn't argue. "Well, if you change your mind, you've only to say." Making a determined effort to lighten the mood, she turned toward her sister. "What do you think, Brie? Let's buy something foolish when we get to Shop Street. The first thing that strikes our fancy. Something useless and expensive; one of those trinkets that we used to look at with our noses pressed up to a shop window when Da would bring us."
"Like the little dolls with the pretty costumes or the jewelry cases with the ballerinas that spun around on top."
"Oh, I think we can find something a little more suited to our ages, but yes, that's the idea."
"All right, then. We'll do it."
It was because they'd talked about their father that memories swarmed Brianna after they reached Galway. With the car parked, they joined the pedestrian traffic, the shoppers, the tourists, the children.
She saw a young girl laughing as she rode her father's shoulders.
He used to do that, she remembered. He'd give her and Maggie turns up, and sometimes he'd run so that they'd bounce, squealing with pleasure.
Or he'd keep their hands firmly tucked in his while they wandered, spinning them stories while they jostled along the crowded streets.
When our ship comes in, Brianna my love, I'll buy you pretty dresses like they have in that window there.
One day we'll travel up here to Galway City with coins leaking out of our pocket. Just you wait, darling.
And though she'd known even then they were stories, just dreaming, it hadn't diminished the pleasure of the seeing, the smelling, the listening.
Nor did the memories spoil it now. The color and movement of Shop Street made her smile as it always did. She enjoyed the voices that cut through the lilting Irish-the twangs and drawls of the Americans, the guttural German, the impatient French. She could smell a hint of Galway Bay that carried on the breeze and the sizzling grease from a nearby pub.
"There." Maggie steered the stroller closer to a shop window. "That's perfect."
Brianna maneuvered through the crowd until she could look over Maggie's shoulder. "What is?"
"That great fat cow there. Just what I want."
"You want a cow?"
"Looks like porcelain," Maggie mused, eyeing the glossy black-and-white body and foolishly grinning bovine face. "I bet it's frightfully priced. Even better. I'm having it. Let's go in."
"But what'll you do with it?"
"Give it to Rogan, of course, and see that he puts it in that stuffy Dublin office of his. Oh, I hope it weighs a ton."
It did, so they arranged to leave it with the clerk while they completed the rest of their shopping. It wasn't until they'd eaten lunch and Brianna had studied the pros and cons of half a dozen food processors that she found her own bit of foolishness.
The fairies were made of painted bronze and danced on wires hung from a copper rod. At a flick of Brianna's fingers, they twirled, their wings beating together musically.
"I'll hang it outside my bedroom window. It'll make me think of all the fairy stories Da used to tell us."
"It's perfect." Maggie slipped an arm around Brianna's waist. "No, don't look at the price," she said when Brianna started to reach for the little tag. "That's part of it all. Whatever it costs, it's the right choice. Go buy your trinket, then we'll figure out how to get mine to the car."
In the end they decided that Maggie would wait at the shop with the cow, with Liam and the rest of their bags, while Brianna drove the car around.
In a breezy mood she strolled back to the car park. She would, she thought, hang her fairy dance as soon as she got home. And then she would play with her fine new kitchen toy. She was thinking how delightful it would be to create a salmon mousse or to finely dice mushrooms with such a precision instrument.
Humming, she slipped behind the wheel, turned the ignition. Perhaps there was a dish she could try to add to the grilled fish she intended to make for dinner. What would Gray enjoy especially? she wondered as she steered toward the exit to pay her fee. Colcannon, perhaps, and a gooseberry fool for dessert-if she could find enough ripe gooseberries.
She thought of the berries' season as those first days of June. But Gray would be gone then. She clamped down on the twinge around her heart. Well, it was nearly June in any case, she told herself and started to drive out of the lot. And she wanted Gray to have her special dessert before he went away.
Brianna heard the shout as she started into her turn. Startled, she jerked her head. She only had time to suck in a breath for the scream as a car, taking the turn too sharp and on the wrong side, crashed into hers.
She heard the screech of metal rending, of glass shattering. Then she heard nothing at all.
"So Brianna's gone shopping," Iris commented as she joined Gray in the kitchen. "That's lovely for her. Nothing puts a woman in a better frame of mind that a good shopping binge."
He couldn't imagine practical Brianna binging on anything. "She went off to Galway with her sister. I told her we could manage if she didn't make it home by tea." Feeling a little proprietary about the kitchen, Gray heaped the food Brianna had prepared earlier onto platters. "It's only the three of us tonight anyway."
"We'll be cozy right here." Iris set the teapot in its cozy on the table. "You were right to convince her to take a day for herself with her sister."
"I nearly had to drag her out to the car-she's so tied to this place."
"Deep, fertile roots. It's why she blooms. Just like her flowers out there. Never in my life have I seen such gardens as hers. Why, just this morning, I was-Ah, there you are, Johnny. Just in time."
"I had the most invigorating walk." Carstairs hung his hat on a peg, then rubbed his hands together. "Do you know, my dear, they still cut their own turf?"
"You don't say so."
"I do indeed. I found the bog. And there were stacks of it, drying in the wind and sun. It was just like stepping back a century." He gave his wife a peck on the cheek before turning his attention to the table. "Ah, what have we here?"
"Wash your hands, Johnny, and we'll have a nice tea. I'll pour out, Grayson. You just sit."
Enjoying them, and their way with each other, Gray obliged her. "Iris, I hope you're not offended if I ask you something."
"Dear boy, you can ask whatever you like."
"Do you miss it?"
She didn't pretend to misunderstand as she passed him the sugar. "I do. From time to time, I do. That life on the edge sort of feeling. So invigorating." She poured her husband's cup, then her own. "Do you?" When Gray only lifted a brow, she chuckled. "One recognizes one."
"No," Gray said after a pause. "I don't miss it."
"Well, you'd have retired quite early, so you wouldn't have the same sort of emotional attachment. Or perhaps you do, and that's why you've never used any of your prior experience, so to speak, in your books."
Shrugging, he lifted his cup. "Maybe I just don't see the point in looking back."
"I've always felt you never have a really clear view of what's coming up if you don't glance over your shoulder now and again."
"I like surprises. If tomorrow's already figured out, why bother with it?"
"The surprise comes because tomorrow's never quite what you thought it would be. But you're young," she said, giving him a motherly smile. "You'll learn that for yourself. Do you use a map when you travel?"
"Sure."
"Well, that's it, you see. Past, present, future. All mapped out." With her bottom lip clamped between her teeth, she measured out a stingy quarter spoon of sugar for her own tea. "You may plan a route. Now some people stick to it no matter what. No deviations to explore some little road, no unscheduled stops to enjoy a particularly nice sunset. A pity for them," she mused. "And oh, how they complain when they're forced to detour. But most of us like a little adventure along the way, that side road. Having a clear view of the ultimate destination doesn't have to keep one from enjoying the ride. Here you are, Johnny dear, your tea's just poured."
"Bless you, Iris."
"And with just a drop of cream, the way you like it."
"I'd be lost without her," Carstairs said to Gray. "Oh, it appears we're having company."
Gray looked toward the kitchen door as Murphy opened it. Con darted in ahead, sat at Gray's feet, laid his head in Gray's lap. Even as Gray lifted a hand to stroke the dog's ears, his smile of greeting faded.
"What is it?" He found himself springing to his feet, rattling the cups on the table. Murphy's face was too set, his eyes too dark. "What's happened?"
"There's been an accident. Brianna's been hurt."
"What do you mean she's hurt?" he demanded over Iris's murmur of distress.
"Maggie called me. There was an accident when Brie was driving from the car park to the shop where Maggie and the baby were waiting." Murphy took off his cap, a matter of habit, then squeezed his fingers on the brim. "I'll take you up to Galway. She's in the hospital there."
"Hospital." Standing there Gray felt, physically felt, the blood draining out of him. "How bad? How bad is it?"
"Maggie wasn't sure. She didn't think it was too bad, but she was waiting to hear. I'll take you to Galway, Grayson. I thought we'd use your car. It'd be faster."
"I need the keys." His brain felt dull, useless. "I have to get the keys."
"Don't let him drive," Iris said when Gray streaked from the room.
"No, ma'am, I won't be letting him do that."
Murphy didn't have to argue. He simply took the keys from Gray's hand and got behind the wheel. Since Gray said nothing, Murphy concentrated on finessing all the speed the Mercedes was built for. Another time, perhaps, he would have appreciated the response the sleek car offered. For now he simply used it.
For Gray the trip was endless. The glorious scenery of the west rushed by, but they seemed to make no progress. It was like animation, he thought dimly, run over and over again, cel by cel, while he could do nothing but sit.
And wait.
She wouldn't have gone if he hadn't bullied her into it. But he'd pressured her to go out, to take a day. So she'd gone to Galway, and now she was... Christ, he didn't know what she was, how she was, and couldn't bear to imagine it.
"I should have gone with her."
With the car cruising near ninety, Murphy didn't bother to glance over. "You'll make yourself sick thinking that way. We're nearly there now, then we'll see." "I bought her the fucking car."
"True enough." The man didn't need sympathy, Murphy thought, but practicality. "And you weren't driving the one who hit it. To my way of thinking, if she'd been in that rusted bucket she had before, things would be worse." "We don't know how bad they are." "We soon will. So hang on to yourself until we do." He slipped off an exit, slowed, and began to maneuver through denser traffic. "It's likely she's fine and will give us grief for driving all this way."
He turned into the hospital car park. They'd no more climbed out and started for the doors when they spotted Rogan walking the baby. "Brianna." It was all Gray could say. "She's all right. They want to keep her through the night at least, but she's all right."
The feeling went out of Gray's legs so that he took Rogan's arm as much for balance as for emphasis. "Where? Where is she?"
"They've just put her in a room on the sixth floor. Maggie's with her yet. I brought her mother and Lottie along with me. They're up there as well. She's-" He broke off, shifting to block Gray from rushing the entrance. "She's banged up, and I think she's hurting more than she's letting on. But the doctor told us she's very lucky. Some bruises from the seat belt, which kept it from being worse. Her shoulder's wrenched, and that's causing the most pain. She's a knot on her head, and some cuts. They want her kept quiet for twenty-four hours." "I need to see her."
"I know that." Rogan stood his ground. "But she doesn't need to see how upset you are. She's one who'll take that to heart and worry over it."
"Okay." Fighting for balance, Gray pressed his fingers to his eyes. "All right. We'll keep it calm, but I have to see her for myself."
"I'll go up with you," Murphy said and led the way in.