Tears of the Moon (20 page)

“I'm afraid to walk away when it's not working. I always think if I do I won't be able to write at all when I come back. Your way's healthier.”

“Ah, but you're the published author, then, aren't you?” While the tea steeped, he got out cups.

“Do you want your music published, Shawn?”

“Maybe, one day. There's no rush about it.” Which, he knew, he'd been saying for years already. “I write it to please myself, and that's enough for now.”

“My agent might know someone in the music business. I'd be happy to ask.”

His stomach jumped like a rabbit under the gun. “Oh, there's no need for that. Actually, Jude, I've come by to speak with you about another matter altogether.”

She waited, letting him bring the pot to the table, pour the tea. When he'd settled, and the fragrant steam rose between them, he still didn't speak.

“Shawn, tell me what's on your mind.”

“Well, I'm trying to figure out exactly how to say it. I'll just start this way.” He reached in his pocket, and after drawing out the pearl, set it beside her cup.

“A pearl?” Puzzled, she started to reach for it, then her gaze whipped up to his, and her fingers stopped a whisper away from the round white gem. “Oh. Carrick.”

“He speaks fondly of you.”

“How odd. It's so . . . odd.” Now she did pick up the pearl and cupped it in her palm. “And the moonflower. The rest of the pearls turned to moonflowers.”

“On Maude's grave. What do you think of it all?”

“What does a modern, educated, fairly intelligent woman think of the existence of faeries?” She let the pearl roll in her palm, then shook her head. “I think it's marvelous. Literally. This one's arrogant and impatient, and a bit of a showoff, but coming into contact with him is one of the things that changed my life.”

“I think he's of a mind to change mine. Or he wouldn't have given me that.”

“Yes, I'm sure you're right.” Jude gave the pearl back to Shawn. “And how do you feel about that?”

“That he's got a long wait in store, as I like my life just as it is.”

“Are you . . .” Trailing off, Jude picked up her tea. “I never had siblings, so I don't know what's out of line. But I wonder if you're thinking of Brenna.”

“I've given the O'Toole considerable thought. And I've given more than a passing one to the notion that Carrick sees my linking with her as the next step for him.”

“And?”

“Well, now.” Shawn picked up a biscuit, bit into it. “I'd say again, he has a long wait in store.” His lips twitched as Jude looked down into her tea. “Was that a bit of a matchmaker's gleam I caught there in your pretty eyes, Jude Frances?”

She sniffed. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“I'm talking about a happily married woman taking a look at her bachelor brother-in-law and thinking to herself, ‘Well, now, wouldn't it be fine if our darling Shawn found himself the right woman and settled down—and what might it be that I can do to help that along.' ”

“I wouldn't presume to interfere.” However prim her tone, the laugh showed in her eyes. “Hardly at all.”

“I appreciate it.” He slipped the pearl back into his pocket. “And just so you're aware of my thoughts and feelings on this, I'll tell you that if there comes to be anything between me and the O'Toole it'll be because it's something we both decide upon, not because some bullying member of the gentry's decided for us. Or even because my new sister, whom I love dearly, wishes it so.”

“I only wish you to be happy.”

“I've plans to stay that way. And as I do, I'd best get into the pub so Aidan's not duty-bound to break my head for being late.”

 

ELEVEN
B
RENNA DIDN'T CONSIDER
it spying. And she'd have challenged the one who accused her. It just so happened that she had a bit of work to do in Finkle's room. He'd complained the shower was slow to drain, and since she was there in any case, the hotel had asked that she deal with it.

Was it her fault he was on the phone with his employer when she came 'round? Certainly not. And could the blame be laid on her that he wasn't the sort of man who paid any mind to service people?

Unless, she imagined, they looked like Darcy, and then a man would have to be deaf and blind, and likely dead a year or so not to give her a long second look. But that was beside the point altogether.

He'd let her in himself, with a fussy and impatient wave of his hand. Then had simply gestured toward the bath and gone back to the phone. Such treatment didn't hurt her feelings. She was there to do some plumbing, after all.

But she had ears, and was there any reason not to use them?

“I apologize for the interruption, Mr. Magee, the young man's here to fix the plumbing.”

Young man?
Brenna bit her tongue and rolled her eyes.

“I'll fax the report as soon as I've put it all in a cohesive form. That may be after business hours in New York, sir, so I'll send copies to your private line as well.”

In the bath, Brenna rattled her tools. From her angle she could see only Finkle's polished shoes and a thin strip of dove-gray sock.

“No, I haven't been able to get the name of the London firm that's interested in the property. The elder brother, Aidan, brushes it off, claims the other one is confused. I'd have to say it's more than possible for the younger to confuse things. He's amiable enough, but doesn't appear terribly bright.”

Brenna snorted, then began the business of snaking the drain. As quietly as manageable.

“However, judging from the reaction, the body language, and the speed with which this lapse was covered, I'd have to say there has been some negotiation in that corner.”

Finkle was silent for a moment. Brenna strained her ears and heard the light
tap-tap
of his fingers on wood. “Yes, it is a lovely place. Picturesque, unspoiled. ‘Simple' would be my word. It's also remote. Having seen it, and having spent this short time here, I would have to go back to my original opinion, sir. I hardly see this theater project being a financial success. Dublin would be a more logical choice. Or failing that—”

Silence again, then the faintest of sighs. “Yes, of course. I understand you have your reasons. I can assure you that the land the Gallaghers have is the best location in Ardmore. The pub appears to be just what you expected. It's off-season, of course, but it does a steady business, and it's well run under the elder Gallagher's hand. The food is first-rate, which I admit surprised me. Not at all your average pub grub. The sister? Yes, she's . . . she's . . .”

The bumbling had Brenna biting the inside of her cheek to hold back a bark of laughter. Men were so predictable.

“She appears to be efficient. Actually, I went back for a short time last evening, at their request. Darcy, the sister, Miss Gallagher, has an exceptional singing voice. All three of them, for that matter, are quite musical, and that could be an advantage. If you're determined to place this theater here, in Ardmore, connecting it with Gallagher's Pub is, in my opinion, the most logical decision.”

Still on her hands and knees, Brenna wiggled her butt, since her hands were full and she couldn't punch a fist in the air.

“Oh, you can trust me to negotiate them down from the percentage they're asking. I know you'd prefer to buy the land outright, but this sentiment of theirs has thus far proven unassailable. In actual terms, the lease they offer is a less risky venture for you and would in the long term give you a tighter connection to the established business. I feel it's to your advantage to use Gallagher's, and the reputation it's earned, to launch your theater.”

The finger tapping sounded again, and the shoes uncrossed, then recrossed at the ankle. “Yes, that's understood. No higher than twenty-five percent. You can trust me there. I hope to have the deal settled within twentyfour hours. I'm sure I can convince the elder Gallagher that he'd get no better offer from a London firm, or any other.”

As she sensed the conversation was winding down, Brenna scrambled up and turned the taps on full and loud. She hummed to herself as she watched the water run. After she'd turned it off again, she did a bit more rattling, then hefted her toolbox and strolled into the adjoining room.

“Draining like a champ now, it is. Sorry for your inconvenience.”

He never so much as glanced up, but waved her away as he'd waved her in and hunched over the laptop on the little desk.

“And a good day to you, sir,” she called cheerfully and heard the keyboard clatter as she slipped out.

Once she was clear, she sprinted. Finkle wasn't the only one who knew how to do a report.

“Well, now, the London bit seems to have been inspired.” Aidan gave his brother a slap on the shoulder and shot Brenna a look of approval. “It's got them shagging their asses, doesn't it?”

“Some people can't resist the competition.” Since they were in the kitchen, Shawn turned to get four bottles of beer from the refrigerator. “I think we should drink to the O'Toole here, and her busy ears.”

“I just happened to be where I was when I was.” But she took the offered bottle.

“You're a fine field soldier, Sergeant O'Toole.” Aidan clicked his bottle to hers, then to Shawn's and Darcy's in turn. “Twenty-five percent and no more. Pity for him he didn't know we'd have settled for twenty without a whimper.”

“The man—the Magee,” Brenna explained. “He's determined to have what he wants here, though Finkle doesn't approve. But approve he does of Shawn's cooking, Darcy's face, and your managing hand, Aidan. Oh, and he thinks you're none too bright, Shawn, but an amiable sort. And when he speaks of Darcy, he stutters.”

Delighted, Darcy laughed. “Give me another day or so, and when he speaks of me, he'll babble. And we can get thirty percent.”

Aidan slung an arm around Darcy's shoulders. “We'll take the twenty-five and wrap the deal. I'll let Finkle think he's turned the thumbscrews to get it, for why shouldn't he feel accomplished after all? I can tell you Dad likes what he's seen of Magee so far. He called only this morning to tell me that, and that he'll leave the details of the matter to us.”

“Then we'll let Finkle wrangle over the terms.” Shawn raised his bottle. “Until he gives us what we're after.”

“That's exactly so. Well, it's back to work for now. Brenna, my darling, do you think you could make yourself scarce 'round the pub until we've got it hammered?”

“I can, of course. But I'm invisible to the likes of him. He doesn't see past my toolbox. Fact is, he thought I was a man.”

“Then he needs glasses.” Aidan tipped up her chin and kissed her. “I'm grateful to you.”

“I tell you I could get us thirty without much more effort,” Darcy claimed, but she followed Aidan out into the pub.

“She likely could,” Brenna commented.

“No need to be greedy. I'm grateful to you as well.”

She cocked her head, and the faintest of sneers twisted her lips. It was one of Shawn's favorite expressions. “Are you going to kiss me, then, as Aidan did?”

“I'm thinking about it.”

“Sure and you think a long time about things.”

“No longer than it takes.” So he cupped her face in his hands, still enjoying the sneer, then tilting her head to please himself, laid his mouth on hers.

Slow, comfortably lazy, like a warm breeze on a summer morning. She relaxed against him, her lips just starting to curve at the easy sweetness. Then deeper, so gradually, so skillfully, he took her deeper, she was over her head before she realized she'd been going under.

She made a sound, caught somewhere between a sigh and a moan. As her heart battered against her ribs, she slid her hands up his back to grip his shoulders. Even as her body went on alert, braced for more, he was easing away.

“I can only be so grateful, at the moment.”

The man had made her dizzy, damn it. And had left her system screaming. “You did that on purpose.”

“Of course I did.”

“Bastard. I'm going back to work.” She reached down for her toolbox and, still off balance, rapped hard into the table when she turned for the door. Her head whipped around quickly, and her narrowed eyes warned him. But he was wise enough to keep his expression bland.

She sniffed, then strode around to wrench open the back door. There she paused, shot him one last look. ““You know, when you stop thinking, you do a fine job of the rest of it.”

He didn't grin until she was gone. “That's a fortunate thing, as I've about finished thinking altogether.”

Shawn stayed out of the way when Finkle came in that evening. But he fixed the man a king's meal of baked plaice done with an herbed butter, served with cally potatoes to which he'd added a dash or so of thyme, and some curly kale.

Since word from Darcy when she popped in was that the man would have licked his plate if there'd been no one about to notice, Shawn felt he'd done his part.

So it was mischief, as much as business sense, that had him going out to take Finkle a portion of lemon cheesecake.

Relaxed from the meal, and Darcy's attentions, Finkle offered Shawn what might have passed for a smile. “I don't know when I've had better fish. You run a creative kitchen, Mr. Gallagher.”

“That's kind of you to say, sir. I hope you'll enjoy this. 'Tis me own recipe, fiddled about somewhat from that of my dear old granny. I don't believe you'll find better when you return to London.”

Finkle, just about to take the first bite, paused with his fork in the air. “New York,” he said, very precisely.

Shawn let himself blink. “New York? Oh, sure, and it's New York I meant. The man from London was thin as a skate and wore little round glasses. You'd think I'd be able to keep it all straight, wouldn't you, now?”