The Last Bride in Ballymuir by Dorien Kelly Page B

hand. “I don’t need to hear
about the hardware. Clancy, the owner, was at the pub last night,
his mouth flying faster than any but Flynn’s after you, ah, left.
Incredible tales that Flynn was weaving, based on the few spoken
loud enough for me to overhear.” Riffling through the contents of
the sack she commented, “I’m surprised Clancy took your money.”
    “ It’ll be the last time I
offer it to him.”
    “ Then consider yourself
blessed that there’s another hardware one town over,” she said,
flashing a quick grin before her face grew serious again. “But why
don’t you just tell people the truth of your past?”
    He dragged a hand through
his hair. “What am I to do, call everyone for a meeting in the
village hall? Or post flyers on every
corner? What good will it do? They won’t
believe me, not a one of them!”
    “ Not even Kylie
O’Shea?”
    Would she? And could he bear to see her face
when she learned what kind of man he was?
    “ Kylie’s not a part of this,
and none of your concern.”
    Vi pushed back from her stool and came around
the table to face him. “Whether you want to hear from me or not,
anything that has to do with you is my concern! I love you and want
to stand by you. You’re not making it easy, though. What are you
going to do now, pack up your things and move on?”
    “ No.” He drew a deep breath,
then repeated a weary, “No. It really doesn’t matter where I move.
I’m smart enough to know that I can’t outrun this. Even here, all
this distance from the North ...” He gave an ineloquent shrug,
nowhere near enough to express his anger and
frustration.
    She brushed a tender touch against his arm.
Her love and empathy humbled him. “Give it time.”
    Time was one thing he knew about. Wasted
time.
    “ And until things settle,
I’m hoping you’re smart enough to defend yourself, too. Or at least
not to plant yourself in the thick of it.”
    “ I know my place. I’ll stay
on the outside, where I belong.” And where he wanted to be, too.
Screw the lot of them, he thought.
    “ Outside,” Vi murmured,
tapping one blunt-cut fingernail to the side of her jaw.
“Hmmm...” Michael didn’t like the
speculative gleam in her eyes, not one bit.
She gestured to a newspaper article taped to the wall not far from
the antique cash register. “Have you seen this?”
    He gave an amused grunt that she’d ask
whether he’d noticed one yellowed clipping in this broad stroke of
color. “Missed it.”
    “ Take a careful look. You’ll
be going there this afternoon. Remember Jenna Fahey from out front
of the church?”
    He did, but knew better than to step
enthusiastically into one of his sister’s schemes. “Maybe.”
    “ She’s a chef—runs Muir
House, a fine new restaurant.”
    Now that gained his
interest. Michael walked over to the
article, skimming it while half-listening to his sister. An undiscovered gem run by a dynamic
young American, the article
said.
    “ She’s needing a bit of
help.”
    “ I can’t do much more than
boil water.”
    He glanced up to see his
sister pacing the room. “She’d not let you
into her kitchen, anyway,” Vi said. “But
she needs a carpenter. The bloody house is falling down around her
ears.”
    Food aplenty and carpentry to be done. Also
enough to keep putting one foot in front of the other, Michael
thought. Enough for now, at least.
    “ Stop out to Muir House this
afternoon,” Vi said. “I’ll tell Jenna you’re coming. Oh, and
straightaway you need to see Padraig, the silversmith two doors
down. He has a car he’s looking to sell. But go easy on him for
price. He’s got no head for business.”
    Turning heel, Michael
escaped before more orders could be thrown
his way. He’d swallowed quite enough for one day.
     
    Gazing longingly at the imported
tomatoes—too dear when out of season—Kylie didn’t even see Evie
Nolan approaching her in the narrow aisle of Spillane’s. And if she
had, Kylie thought as Evie sidled