moment. “When are you heading home? And keep in mind, Emma Malloy, as owner of this store, I can order you to go.”
Emma sighed and gave Charity a tired smile. “Soon. Although I remember many a night you burned the midnight oil at Shaw’s, ignoring my pleas for you to go home.”
Charity took on a faraway look, a faint smile tugging at her rose-colored lips. “Oh, how I used to love running that store! Which is why I miss my two days a week here so much now that the kids are home for the summer. I guess retail is in our blood, Emma, starting way back in Dublin.” A hint of melancholy laced her tone as she trailed into a stare. “I was happy working at Shaw’s, as I recall, despite all the heartbreak Mitch put me through back then.” A heavy sigh shivered from her lips. “Goodness, that all seems so long ago, doesn’t it?”
“A lifetime, my friend,” Emma said wistfully. She picked up her pen. “And speaking of Mitch, you better get home. He can’t be in a good mood these days with his workload at the Herald . And you’ve said yourself that Henry has a talent for trying one’s patience.”
The edge of Charity’s lips crooked up. “Only mine, it seems. For Mitch he’s a perfect angel, apparently.” She scowled. “Must be my track record with Irish men. All I can say is thank heavens for my sweet twin, Hope Marceline. Can you imagine twins with two of Henry?”
“’Tis the grace of God, for sure, sparing you such a fate,” Emma said with a chuckle. She scrawled her signature to a letter from the stack that Bert had typed today. “Although if anyone could handle it, it would be you.”
“That’s what Mitch always says.” Charity flicked at some lint on her dress and gave her a saucy smile. “Now if I can just learn to handle him .”
Emma grinned. “I thought you had.”
A sigh floated from Charity’s lips. “In my dreams. The man is more bullheaded than me, if that’s even possible.” She eyed Emma as she tugged on her gloves. “I have to go, but before I do, I need to ask you something.”
“What?” Emma signed her name to the next letter and looked up.
Charity swiped her teeth with a glide of her tongue, a nervous habit that told Emma the news wouldn’t be good. She angled to give Charity her full attention.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
The tongue made another pass as Charity sat up straight, fiddling with her gloves. She drew in a deep breath, then dropped her hands in her lap and looked up. “Sean was fired yesterday.”
The pen slipped from Emma’s hand. “What? Why?”
“A misunderstanding involving Rose Kelly, apparently.”
“No . . .” Emma sagged back in her chair with a silent groan. She closed her eyes, remembering their conversation the day of Katie’s wedding. “What happened?” she whispered.
Charity vented a heavy breath, and Emma looked up, the slump of her friend’s shoulders a telling sign. “Well, it seems Mr. Kelly found his daughter conversing with my brother . . .” Charity’s sooty lashes flipped up while her gaze locked with Emma’s. Her lips twisted in a painful smile. “In his lap.”
Heat flooded Emma’s cheeks. “The saints preserve us . . .”
“Yes, well, the saints are going to have to preserve something, because Mother says she’s never seen Sean like this—moody, depressed, quiet.” Charity sighed. “It breaks my heart.”
Emma leaned forward. “I don’t understand—how did it happen? And when? Because I know for a fact Sean had no interest in Rose whatsoever—he told me so at Katie’s wedding.”
“Yesterday. Sean’s not saying a lot, but Mother did manage to pull out that Rose came by to see him, claiming she didn’t love her fiancé. Apparently she kissed him, and when he tried to back away, he stumbled into his chair. The next thing Sean knew, she was in his lap, kissing him senseless.” Charity shuddered. “Dear mother of Job, it sounds like something I would have done.” She glanced
Emma sighed and gave Charity a tired smile. “Soon. Although I remember many a night you burned the midnight oil at Shaw’s, ignoring my pleas for you to go home.”
Charity took on a faraway look, a faint smile tugging at her rose-colored lips. “Oh, how I used to love running that store! Which is why I miss my two days a week here so much now that the kids are home for the summer. I guess retail is in our blood, Emma, starting way back in Dublin.” A hint of melancholy laced her tone as she trailed into a stare. “I was happy working at Shaw’s, as I recall, despite all the heartbreak Mitch put me through back then.” A heavy sigh shivered from her lips. “Goodness, that all seems so long ago, doesn’t it?”
“A lifetime, my friend,” Emma said wistfully. She picked up her pen. “And speaking of Mitch, you better get home. He can’t be in a good mood these days with his workload at the Herald . And you’ve said yourself that Henry has a talent for trying one’s patience.”
The edge of Charity’s lips crooked up. “Only mine, it seems. For Mitch he’s a perfect angel, apparently.” She scowled. “Must be my track record with Irish men. All I can say is thank heavens for my sweet twin, Hope Marceline. Can you imagine twins with two of Henry?”
“’Tis the grace of God, for sure, sparing you such a fate,” Emma said with a chuckle. She scrawled her signature to a letter from the stack that Bert had typed today. “Although if anyone could handle it, it would be you.”
“That’s what Mitch always says.” Charity flicked at some lint on her dress and gave her a saucy smile. “Now if I can just learn to handle him .”
Emma grinned. “I thought you had.”
A sigh floated from Charity’s lips. “In my dreams. The man is more bullheaded than me, if that’s even possible.” She eyed Emma as she tugged on her gloves. “I have to go, but before I do, I need to ask you something.”
“What?” Emma signed her name to the next letter and looked up.
Charity swiped her teeth with a glide of her tongue, a nervous habit that told Emma the news wouldn’t be good. She angled to give Charity her full attention.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
The tongue made another pass as Charity sat up straight, fiddling with her gloves. She drew in a deep breath, then dropped her hands in her lap and looked up. “Sean was fired yesterday.”
The pen slipped from Emma’s hand. “What? Why?”
“A misunderstanding involving Rose Kelly, apparently.”
“No . . .” Emma sagged back in her chair with a silent groan. She closed her eyes, remembering their conversation the day of Katie’s wedding. “What happened?” she whispered.
Charity vented a heavy breath, and Emma looked up, the slump of her friend’s shoulders a telling sign. “Well, it seems Mr. Kelly found his daughter conversing with my brother . . .” Charity’s sooty lashes flipped up while her gaze locked with Emma’s. Her lips twisted in a painful smile. “In his lap.”
Heat flooded Emma’s cheeks. “The saints preserve us . . .”
“Yes, well, the saints are going to have to preserve something, because Mother says she’s never seen Sean like this—moody, depressed, quiet.” Charity sighed. “It breaks my heart.”
Emma leaned forward. “I don’t understand—how did it happen? And when? Because I know for a fact Sean had no interest in Rose whatsoever—he told me so at Katie’s wedding.”
“Yesterday. Sean’s not saying a lot, but Mother did manage to pull out that Rose came by to see him, claiming she didn’t love her fiancé. Apparently she kissed him, and when he tried to back away, he stumbled into his chair. The next thing Sean knew, she was in his lap, kissing him senseless.” Charity shuddered. “Dear mother of Job, it sounds like something I would have done.” She glanced
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