by Eliza Watson
The elderly lady was humming a happy tune while she placed lace doilies on the arms of the wingback chair.
Declan and Thomas set the couch down in the salon for a quick breather. Next, they were using Thomas’s friend’s truck and trailer to pick up furniture from theater group members. When they’d heard about Cousin Enid banning us from using the theater props, many of the actors offered to loan us their personal furniture. By the end of the day, the library would comfortably seat fifty.
Declan sniffed the air. “That smell reminds me of my mum hanging sheets out to dry on the line.”
I nodded. “It’s Fanny’s vanilla- and linen-scented candles.”
And a couple hundred pounds of charcoal throughout the house had done wonders to diminish the musty smell and remove some of the dampness.
I plopped down on the couch between Declan and Thomas. Declan slipped an arm around my shoulder, and I snuggled against him. We admired the nine paintings hanging on the wall. Reproductions of the eight stolen ones and one that Thomas said had been George’s favorite.
“Could have captured the sunlight better in that one, I’d say.” Declan gestured to the painting of the woman at the desk writing a letter. “May need to touch it up a wee bit…”
“No way. You captured the sunlight perfectly. It warms me up every time I look at it.”
“I believe that is my favorite also,” Thomas said. “She’s writing a letter to her lover, a duke.”
“Really?” I said.
Thomas smiled. “That was always my story. Her expression is serene yet wistful as if she’s wondering when they will once again see each other. George felt she was corresponding with a sister, sharing secrets. He always longed for a sibling. I was the closest thing he had to a brother. As he was to me.” Thomas’s eyes watered.
I placed a comforting hand on his arm. “He’s going to recover now that they drained the fluid from his lungs.” Thankfully, we hadn’t told Thomas about our visit with George. It would have upset him as much as it had Mom.
Thomas nodded, staring reminiscently at the painting.
Needing to finish some work before lunch, I left the guys to rest and went to the library. I was creating a database with the eleven hotel quotes I’d received. Dubrovnik was coming in at the lowest cost. I’d printed off the contracts rather than having to navigate between a dozen open pages on my laptop.
Rachel walked in and set a plate of finger sandwiches on the desk, along with an energy drink. “What are you working on?” She snagged a hotel contract from the pile. “Dubrovnik?”
A nervous feeling fluttered in my chest. “Yeah. They’re considering it for an incentive in August.”
She scanned the contract. “Make sure they add a no-walk clause and give you a catering discount.”
“I don’t think either were in last year’s contract.”
I handed her the previous contract. She’d brought it up. Not like I’d been asking for help.
Rachel rolled her eyes. “That Joyce was as clueless as ditzy Gemma. They’re meeting planner wannabees. They have no idea how to negotiate a contract.”
That made three of us.
“I’ll e-mail you some of the international contracts I’ve done recently. They’ll list the provisions you need to include. Why didn’t you just ask me to look this over?” Rachel sounded offended I hadn’t requested her help.
“I didn’t want you to think I was in over my head.”
“Caity, I know you’re in over your head. But like I’ve said, that’s how most planners learn. It took me dozens of contracts to figure out what I was doing. And I didn’t have anyone to teach me.”
My phone rang. George’s hospital.
Heart racing, I answered the call.
After a brief conversation, I hung up. “George is awake.”
Rachel let out a nervous laugh. “What’s it today? ‘Hey Diddle Diddle’ or ‘Humpty Dumpty’?”
I shook my head. “She says he’s coherent.”
We both let out a huge sigh of relief.
Rachel smiled. “Can’t wait to meet our uncle.”
* * *
When we entered the hospital room, George was lying in bed with his eyes closed. The framed photo of Mom and her family rested on his chest.
Mom smiled at the photo and whispered, “Maybe we should go to the cafeteria and come back in a bit.”
Mac barked.
“Shh,” we all said.
The dog trotted over to the bed. He slipped a paw through the bed’s guardrail and placed it on George’s hand. George’s eyes slowly opened, and he peered at Mac through heavy lids. Fanny grasped hold of my arm, her face lighting up.
“Well, hello there, little fella. Who would you be?”
“Our newest family member, Mac,” I said.
Not as new as George though.
Mac eyed the bed, preparing to jump up.
I clapped my hands like Mom always did. “Mac, come here.”
Amazingly, he trotted over to me. Wow. Mom training him in a matter of days would save me a ton of money on obedience school.
George smiled, a twinkle in his gray eyes, a bit of pink glow back in his sunken cheeks. I introduced him to Rachel, Mom, and Declan.
Tearing up, Mom walked over and placed a hand on George’s. “I can’t believe I have a brother.”
“And I a sister, or rather sisters.”
“Dottie and Teri wished they could have made it, but they’ll be joining me this summer.”
“I hope to be back to my old self by then. Although I haven’t been my old self for some time.” He peered over at me. “You must think me a terrible and foolish old man for not having told you about the estate. Things moved rather quickly since we met in Prague. I didn’t foresee it being to the point of selling so soon, and I felt I should tell you in person. You’d been so thrilled at the prospect of visiting where your grandmother had once lived. I was ashamed to admit I was losing it.”
“You don’t owe us an explanation.” Mom patted his hand. “We just wished we’d known so we could have helped you save the estate sooner. And I plan to stay as long as you need me to.”
“Save the estate?” George’s forehead wrinkled in confusion.
We all nodded, anxious to fill him in on the event.
Thomas told him about Cousin Enid’s deal with the law firm and their plan to turn his home into solicitor offices. We didn’t want to upset him, but once Enid caught wind George was awake, she’d be here serving papers.
George’s gaze narrowed with interest. “How much are they offering?”
“Ah, well, not sure,” Thomas sputtered, as surprised by George’s inquisitive and calm reaction as I was.
I’d expected him to be furious with his cousin and devastated that the buyer’s former partner had run off with his wife and the estate’s money.
I described the art-mystery event and assured him that ticket sales would enable him to turn down the law firm’s offer.
A panicked look seized George’s features. “Why would you plan such an event?”
My stomach dropped. Precisely the reaction I’d feared. George was freaking out over the mere thought of reliving that evening.
“I thought it was a brilliant idea,” Thomas said. “That it would allow us both to have closure with what happened.”
“I don’t need closure,” George spat. “Or people in my house.”
Startled by George’s anger, Mom snapped her hand back from his.
“People will only be allowed in the salon and library,” I said. “Declan painted reproductions so nobody will know you sold the originals. We’ve filled the house with furnishings. We’ll explain that antiques and anything of value have been put into storage. People will understand.”
“You don’t understand.” George’s face reddened, and he curled his fingers into the white blanket. “Losing that bloody house would be the best thing for me. It has made my life a living hell. It almost killed me, putting me in here. I plan to
move south.”
“South?” Fanny grasped my arm once again, thrown off balance by George’s announcement. “To Brighton?”
George shook his head.
“Why, Brighton surely must have the most sunshine.”
“Not as much as the Canary Islands.” He glanced away, avoiding the distraught look on poor Fanny’s face.
My heart sank. “Georgie Porgie” was sounding pretty good right about now.
“The Canary Islands?” Fanny’s blue eyes widened, and her grip tightened on my arm. I bit down on my lower lip to keep from yelping out in pain.
George nodded. “I need more tolerable weather.”
“When did you decide this?” Fanny muttered, her porcelain cheeks paling.
Afraid she was going to faint, I gestured to a chair for her to sit. She shook her head, determined to stay at George’s bedside despite his devastating news.
“A while ago. My aunt Emily spends the winters there and found a suitable place for me. I need to make a down payment, so I had to put the estate up for sale sooner than I’d planned.”
George was moving to the Canary Islands to be closer to a woman who hadn’t even cared enough to respond to my e-mail about his life-threatening pneumonia? My breathing quickened.
“I see.” Fanny wore a defeated expression. Not only had she known nothing of his decision, but she hadn’t been involved in making it. “I could use a spot of tea.”
George had to realize how Fanny felt about him. How could he not have respected her enough to have shared his plans? Had Diana made him that callous about love?
“I’ll join you.” Thomas wrapped an arm around Fanny’s shoulder. “I won’t be able to show my topiary if there’s no event,” he muttered as they walked out.
My chest tightened. I felt horrible that I’d given Thomas hope about showing his shrubs and that Fanny had been so optimistic about the future she’d practically moved into George’s house. I couldn’t believe the house wasn’t part of George’s identity. How could he just let it go after living there his entire life? How could he not have confided in Thomas and Fanny about his plans to move so far away? Thomas had been like the brother he’d never had, and Fanny was ten times better than the wife he had had.
“How can you just give up and let Enid win?” I asked. “I can’t stand that woman after just a few days.”
George peered down at the picture frame. “I’m not giving up. It’s what I want. I’m sorry you went to all that trouble. You shouldn’t have. Thomas and Fanny should have known better.”
Rachel bit down on her lower lip, and the vein in her forehead pulsated. She was mentally counting to ten, trying not to lose it. She was as ticked off as I was with George.
Mom forced an uneasy smile. “This is George’s decision to make, not ours. We’ll support him with whatever he does.”
Like hell we would! I didn’t support the way he was treating everyone. I opened my mouth to tell him that, and Declan grasped my elbow. “Tea sounds grand. Let’s get some for everyone.”
No way was tea fixing this nightmare. Yet I reined in my anger and allowed Declan to escort me from the room.
As soon as we were in the hallway, I said, “I can’t believe George wants to lose the house and move to the Canary Islands. He’s like a different man than he was in Prague.”
“In all fairness to George, maybe it’s his meds. Give him a few days to process the information you just threw at him.”
“It’s not the meds. He’s adamant and appears to have had this planned for some time without anyone’s knowledge. I thought we were helping him by organizing the event. It’s one thing for him to be against it, but he doesn’t have to be such an ass about it.” I shook my head in disbelief. “My poor mom. This was her introduction to her brother? His rude behavior and anger-management issues? She must be devastated. The way he was treating poor Fanny and Thomas is inexcusable. He’s showing more respect for some flippin’ aunt he’s never met. Where the hell is Emily Ryan right now? Soaking up the sun in the Canary Islands rather than coming to visit her dying nephew. I wish I’d never introduced them.”
“It could be worse. He could be moving away to shack up with some woman who isn’t related. That would kill Fanny.”
“If he wants to live somewhere warmer, why not move to Florida to be closer to my mom and her sisters? It makes no sense.”
“That’s family. You take the good with the shite.”
“What good? What good has finding George brought me? I’ve ruined Fanny’s and Thomas’s lives and upset my mom. Now she can be bitter toward her mother, brother, and me!”
What had I been thinking trying to find more family when I was just starting to get along with my immediate one?
No more ancestry research. I was done.
The past was better off left a mystery!
Chapter Sixteen
Declan removed a painting from the salon wall—the woman seated at the desk, writing a letter in a sunny room. A shiver raced through me, the house’s dampness once again chilling me to the bone. I rubbed my arms through Declan’s blue sweater, glancing over at the ashes in the fireplace. I went over to make a fire to warm up the house before we picked up Mom from the hospital.
By the time Declan and I had returned from the cafeteria with tea, George had fallen asleep. Mom had insisted on being there when he woke up. She probably hadn’t wanted to leave on such a sour note and was hoping George would wake up in a better mood. Fanny and Thomas hadn’t spoken a word on the way home. When we dropped Fanny off at her impressive stone home, she said she’d be by later to pick up her belongings. Unless she was driving a U-Haul rather than her Aston Martin, Fanny wouldn’t be picking up much. Her dream of moving in with George was crushed. Not only would Thomas be losing his home, but also the man who’d been like a brother to him. I’d lost the chance to save the estate and likely damaged my relationship with my only uncle.
Yet after the way he’d acted, I wasn’t sure I cared.
Declan studied the painting. “This is my favorite.”
“Take it. It’s yours. They’re all yours.” I arranged kindling and wood in the fireplace.
I had no way to repay Declan for the money he’d spent on art supplies and advertising. I had over a thousand dollars in credit card debt from Facebook ads!
“I can’t afford to keep taking stupid chances like this.”
Declan’s gaze darted to me. “You can’t afford not to. And it wasn’t stupid. Your sense of adventure is one reason I’m madly in love with you.” A faint smile curled his lips. “It was grand painting again, even if nobody will see them.”
He sounded as disappointed as Thomas had about not being able to show his shrubs to the public.
“I’m sorry.” I clicked the fire-starter wand, and a flame materialized.
“Why? This was a good thing.”
“I feel like everyone has been let down.”
“I was all for doing this. Ya can’t be blaming yourself. We all thought it was a brilliant idea.”
I walked over to Declan and brushed a kiss against his lips. “Thank you for everything.”
“Thanks to you, I’m painting again.”
“You should take the paintings. Better than stashing them away in the shed for the new owners to toss. Or worse yet to sell and get the money for them.”
The thought of the furnishings going back to the cold, damp shed, even the demented owl and flying monkey table, about made me burst into tears.
“I’m gonna go help Rachel in the kitchen, then go pack.”
Declan and I were taking an early evening ferry back to Ireland. No reason to stay. Rachel and Mom would remain here until George came home. Next week they were coming to Ireland to visit Sadie and Seamus in the Midlands. Fingers crossed that introduction went much better.
Rachel was boxing up the teacups, hoping Nicole would buy them back even if we took a slight loss.
She set a cup on the counter next to a half dozen others. “T
hought I would keep a few. Do you want some?”
I shrugged. George had offered me a cup and saucer from the Daly family china, and I wasn’t even sure if I wanted that set.
“At least we might get our money back on the china. Refunding everyone’s tickets might be a bit trickier.”
My phone dinged, announcing the arrival of an e-mail. Nicholas Turney. My heart raced, then came to a screeching halt when I read his message. He hadn’t found Grandma’s baptismal record despite visiting every Catholic church within a twenty-mile radius of Killybog. My stomach dropped at the thought of returning to Milwaukee to live with my parents.
Even worse, at leaving Declan in Ireland. Along with Zoe, their parents, Sadie, Seamus, Nicholas Turney… What would happen with Declan and me if we lived four thousand miles apart and I was forbidden to return to Ireland for ninety days? He’d have to commute to Milwaukee!
“Shit,” I muttered, dropping back against the counter.
“What’s wrong?”
“Not only will I be leaving England, but I’ll be leaving Ireland soon.” It was time to fess up. “I can’t find Grandma’s birth or baptismal records. No documentation proving she was Irish or ever existed outside the US.”
Rachel’s gaze narrowed. “So you can’t obtain dual citizenship?”
I shook my head.
“I’m assuming your boss doesn’t know this? That I’m not the last to know?”
“I’m sorry. I know this will reflect poorly on you with Flanagan’s.”
“It reflects poorly on you, and not just with Flanagan’s but with me. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this.”
“I figured you’d be upset that I’d gone after the job, assuring Matthew McHugh I could get citizenship.”
“I’m upset because we’re sisters. And you’re not the only one who has something vested in this. I want citizenship also.”
My gaze narrowed. “You never mentioned that.”
“Well, I’ve been thinking about it.” She shook her head in frustration. “I could see one of her records not having been filed or lost, but both? You can’t give up so easily.”
“So easily? I’ve been searching over a month and recruiting everyone I know to help. Sadie found her mother’s birth certificate at the registrar’s office in Mullingar. It didn’t note her first name, Theresa. Maybe the same thing happened with Grandma’s. But Nicholas verified parents’ names on all the records during a three-year period around Grandma’s birth year. What else am I supposed to do?”