He'd never met someone like Morgan before. Stunningly beautiful, completely unaware of it, and surprisingly vulnerable. It had been his experience that most beautiful women knew it and often used it to their advantage. It was a breath of fresh air to be with someone who was so unaware of her own power.
Power, Patrick thought as he stocked a bottle of Jameson's. Though it had surprised him when she'd told him of her extra abilities, it was nothing that he hadn't dealt with before. He already knew about Cait's ability and was fairly certain Aislinn had something going on as well. And there was no denying the whispers of Fiona's great healing powers. It was just a part and parcel of the rhythm and flow of village life. Morgan would fit seamlessly in if she would just let herself.
He wished that she would come to the pub more. Most of the women who were jealous of her beauty would see that Morgan was just shy. If only she would open up a little more, Patrick was certain that Morgan would be accepted by the villagers and would start to feel like this was home.
And wasn't that his biggest fear?
Patrick stilled and thought about it. Morgan was a runner, and she'd been on her own for a long time. He was happy that she was putting down roots here.
He'd just have to do his best to convince her to stay.
Smiling, he went back to work and planned his next way to surprise Morgan.
"You had sex." Cait's accusatory voice caused him to jump and he turned to glare at her.
"Would you just?" Patrick said, cursing softly under his breath and trying to bring his heart rate down.
Cait waddled into the room, her hand unconsciously rubbing the large mound of her belly until she was close enough to poke Patrick in the arm.
"You did. I know."
"Would you stop reading my mind?"
"Please. You're here hours earlier than you should be and you are whistling like a canary bird freed from its cage. I know the signs."
Patrick sighed and wiped his hand over his face.
"Yes, I did. And it was wonderful and she's wonderful and I will do everything in my power to make her happy. Okay?" Patrick said.
Cait measured him with one long glance.
"Okay."
"That's it? No interrogation?"
"No. You know I'll find you and kill you if you hurt her so I'm good with it."
Patrick rolled his eyes at his boss's retreating back.
"Shouldn't you be more focused on having that baby?"
"I'm not due for a few more days."
"Saturday works for me," Patrick called after her and laughed as she flung a middle finger into the air before shutting him into the stock room.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Morgan hummed as she ran through the numbers from the week before. If they had another week like this, she'd encourage Aislinn to take out some advertising on some of the travel websites. Making a note to contact a few sites for pricing, Morgan glanced up when the bells above the door tinkled.
Just lovely, she thought and then pasted a polite smile on her face as Aileen and Agatha wandered through the gallery to where she stood.
Aileen's cheeks had a slight flush to them and she offered Morgan a sheepish smile. Agatha poked her in the back.
"I know, Mum, I was going to come here either way, you know," Aileen said, glaring over her shoulder at Agatha before turning back to Morgan.
"Can I help you with something?" Morgan asked politely, wishing that she didn't have to deal with this.
"Listen, I'm sorry. I know that I was rude and I shouldn't have been. I'm just very protective of Patrick. And, well," Aileen lifted her hands and let them drop, gesturing to Morgan, "you're just so beautiful and nobody knows your past. I wanted to know what you were about. So, I'm sorry."
Morgan felt the tension draining out of her shoulders and she smiled tentatively at Aileen.
"Thank you. Both for the apology and the compliment. I'm just really shy," Morgan said.
"So Mum said. I shouldn't have poked at your family stuff either. It can't have been easy growing up without a family."
"Aye, it wasn't. The hardest years of my life. Or so I hope. I'm okay with talking about the past, it's just that I'm trying to move forward. Build a life for myself." Morgan shrugged a shoulder, not sure how else to explain.
"And I admire that. I'd like to formally extend the offer of my friendship and I hope that you'll come have a drink at the pub with me one of these days," Aileen said, real warmth coming from her this time. Morgan could tell that her intent was pure so she returned her smile with one of her own.
"I'd like that. Truly."
"Good, now that that's settled, I brought some of my lace with me," Agatha said, raising a leather tote that she was carrying.
Morgan clapped her hands and smiled.
"Wonderful, I'd love to see what we could do. Bring them over here."
"I'm just going to look around," Aileen said and wandered towards a stack of black-and-white photographs.
Morgan nodded and turned her attention to where Agatha had laid her lace out in various piles.
"Doilies, placemats, napkins, and these…aren't these sweet?" Agatha said, holding up a pure white Christening bonnet with lace trim. Morgan felt her heart twist a bit about the thought of a baby wearing one as well as in admiration of her fine work.
"These are beautiful. What a fine gift. I'd like to buy one for Cait," Morgan said impulsively and then stopped herself from adding "and Keelin." Keelin's pregnancy news was still being kept quiet and Morgan wasn't going to be the one to let the cat out of the bag.
"If you'd like to wait until the baby is born, I can embroider his or her name or initials on it," Agatha offered.
"That'd be wonderful, thank you."
"So, do you really think these will sell in an art gallery?"
Morgan scanned the goods laid out before her and nodded.
"My only concern is how quickly can you make these? I suspect that they will sell very quickly."
Agatha blushed and smiled, a determined glint in her eyes.
"As fast as you need them. I can pay my girls to help too."
Morgan fingered the plastic wrapping surrounding one of the placemats.
"I'm glad that you wrapped these in plastic, but I think we could up the presentation a bit," she said, nibbling at her lip.
"I actually had the same thought and brought some ideas," Agatha said eagerly and pulled several rolls of ribbon from her tote. "What do you think about wrapping these around and then tying a handwritten card to it?"
Morgan studied the ribbon and then pulled one from the pile. It was a thick crème ribbon, with a lovely sheen that made it look luxe. Wrapping it around the placemat and tying it she studied it.
"With a sprig of dried flower," she decided.
"Oh! Perfect," Agatha gushed.
"Yes, this is the ribbon. Tie a card and a little sprig of flower or stick with it and it will be lovely and unique. I'll take them all. What will you sell them for? I was thinking a 50% commission but because you are local, I'd offer a 60% deal. We'll keep 40% of the profit and you keep the rest. Will that work for you?"
Agatha's mouth dropped open and she looked like a fish out of water gasping for air, before she clutched at Morgan's arm.
"Sixty percent? The stores in Dublin just buy them at a flat rate. I have no idea what they sell them for."
"Why that's just wrong. You're probably losing money. What do you sell say, four napkins for?" Morgan asked, her eyebrow raised. She was quite certain that Agatha was getting ripped off.
"Hmm, 4 euros a napkin. Twelve for the set?"
It was Morgan's turn to look like a fish out of water.
"Sure and you're giving me a heart attack. These are handmade! You must charge a premium for these," Morgan said.
"What should I charge? Oh, I don’t even know," Agatha said, worry in her eyes.
"Told you that you were getting ripped off," Aileen called from across the gallery.
"I think if we
package them nicely and have a little story about how they are made in the village, we could easily sell a set of these napkins for 34 to 40 euros," Morgan mused.
"You've got to be kidding me. For napkins?"
"You'd be amazed at what tourists spend their money on. And, a handmade local gift…they'll eat it right up."
"Why, we could take a nice vacation. I could pay my daughters to help, this could be wonderful," Agatha gushed.
"I think it will be perfect. We'll set up a lovely set of shelves to display your work," Morgan agreed and jumped when Agatha impulsively hugged her. She stiffened for a moment and then returned the hug, trying not to think what she had been doing with this woman's son the night before.
"Thank you. I don't know why I haven't tried to sell it locally before. I guess I just didn't think I was good enough," Agatha whispered.
Morgan pulled back and smiled down at her.
"Your work is truly art. It's an honor to have it in the shop."
"Aileen, I hope you're ready to work," Agatha called to Aileen as she turned to leave. "Come now, we must get started on the bows and labels. Let's stop by the flower shop for some of their dried blooms. It will be a lovely addition to the label. Bless you, Morgan!" Agatha called over her shoulder and Aileen waved as they swung out the door, their heads bowed together as they chatted animatedly, mother and daughter in synch together.
A part of Morgan wished for that same closeness.
She waved the brief spot of melancholy away and turned back to the pile of lace. And just like that, she'd added two more people to the group that she could call friends in this village.
It felt good, she decided. She was slowly putting down roots, making friends, even building a little network of support for herself.
She hadn't known how much she wanted it until she'd had it, Morgan thought as she stacked the piles of lace on a shelf in the back, wanting to wait to sell them until they had their labels.
Coming to Grace's Cove had been the best thing for her. She just wished that she could shake the feeling of imminent danger that crept up the back of her neck. Was it just because she had struggled for so long that she wasn't able to accept joy into her life? Morgan paused to consider the thought. This was a question for her session with Baird. Why was it that she felt like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop? As though she wasn't deserving of happiness, Morgan mused.
I am though, Morgan thought. It's my turn. I'm going to hold on to this with all I can.
The bells tinkled again and Morgan turned to greet her next customer, pushing her uneasiness aside. There was work to be done.
"Are those lace? Oh, how lovely," the customer said, looking at the lace doilies in Morgan's hand.
"They are. And made by an extremely talented local artist." Morgan smiled and calculated the sale in her head. She couldn't wait to tell Agatha.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The rest of the week passed in a blur of late night visits and early mornings. Morgan had even brought herself to stop at the pub for a cider after work one night. She'd been entertained with stories from the locals and had even accepted a dance with old Mr. Murphy. He'd kept her on her toes and had made her laugh when he blushed after she dropped a kiss on his cheek.
Slowly, the village seemed to be absorbing her and she it. She was excited to tell Fiona about her week, Morgan thought as she put a small package on the seat of her van before settling into the driver's seat.
"Come on, baby." Morgan sweet-talked the van as the engine struggled to catch and then let out a cheer as the engine roared to life. She made a mental note to get it to the mechanics one of these days.
As Morgan directed the sputtering van out of the village, she allowed her mind to daydream.
This week with Patrick had been like an awakening to her. Both physically and mentally. She found herself laughing more, craving his touch, wanting to tell him things through the day.
So why couldn't she shake this sense of impending doom? Morgan sighed as she looked out at the afternoon sun's rays that slashed across the sea-green water. By all accounts, her life was perfect.
Morgan pulled a sharp right onto the gravel lane that led up to Fiona's cottage. The van shuddered to a stop and Morgan smiled as Ronan came racing around the corner, his barks joyous.
"Hey, boy," Morgan said as she climbed down, the package in one hand. She scratched behind Ronan's ears and the dog immediately rolled over and exposed his stomach to her.
"No shame, huh, fella?" Morgan laughed and obediently scratched his tummy while he wiggled against the grass.
"Just in time, I've a lovely casserole about to be done," Fiona called from the open door and Morgan approached, smelling the scent of garlic on the air.
"Smells wonderful," she said and smiled at Fiona. The old woman's cheeks were flushed with heat from the oven and she came forward to hug Morgan. Morgan automatically stiffened but almost immediately relaxed. She was getting better at being touched, embracing people. It seemed like a way of life for the people of the village. They were always kissing each other and hugging goodbye quite casually. Morgan hoped that she would be comfortable with it all in a few more months.
"It's comfort food. I was in a mood," Fiona said and shrugged. Morgan tilted her head and really looked at Fiona. Though she smiled pleasantly, there seemed to be some tension around her eyes.
"What's wrong? Do you not feel well?"
Fiona laughed and waved for her to sit.
"Fit as a fiddle. I just feel like something is off. Or wrong." Fiona waved her hand again. "Probably just foolishness."
"Like an impending doom?" Morgan asked, her eyes trained on Fiona as the old woman pulled a steaming casserole from the oven.
"Aye, that'd be a good way to say it," Fiona said and sliced into the gooey mass of cheese and noodles.
"Me too. I have that feeling too!" Morgan exclaimed.
"You do? Oh, oh no. Now I am worried," Fiona murmured as she dished out heaping helpings of lasagna onto the waiting plates. Walking over to the table, Fiona deposited the piping-hot food in front of Morgan and then went back for the garlic bread. Sitting across from her, she raised an eyebrow at Morgan.
"Go on. Explain yourself."
Morgan immediately tore off a chunk of the steaming garlic bread as its scent was making her mouth water.
"I don’t know. I honestly thought it was just me. Like, because things have been going really well for me. And, well, they never have before. I keep waiting for it to go wrong, I guess," Morgan said.
"You and Patrick?" Fiona asked as she took a bite.
"Yes, he's just…oh he's great. He's kind and funny, but not afraid to be the man. I feel like he really wants to be with me and take care of me. Even with all of my insecurities and bag of issues," Morgan laughed ruefully.
"You told him about your abilities, yes?" Fiona said, meeting her eyes.
"Well, most of them. Not the levitating stuff. Since I'm not going to use it anymore I figured he didn’t need to know."
Fiona's hands stilled and she watched Morgan carefully.
"What do you mean that you won't be using it anymore?"
"Since you taught me to shut it off…I can. It's great," Morgan said enthusiastically.
"And what happens if it doesn't work? During a dream or something while you're sleeping next to him?" Fiona asked carefully.
"I…I hadn't thought of that. I just thought that I could keep it off."
"And so you might. But don't you think he deserves to know so that you don't give the poor man a heart attack?"
"But…what if he hates me?" Morgan asked, fear lacing her voice.
"What did he say about the rest of your abilities?"
"Nothing really. He said he was used to it with Cait and it was no big deal."
Fiona beamed.
"I've always said that Patrick was a fine lad," she said, taking a sip of her whiskey.
"He is. I guess I will tell him about the rest of it. It's not a big dea
l, really."
"Well, I mean it is. It's a very unique power. I suggest that you point out to him all of the positive uses of it," Fiona said.
Morgan thought about it as she took another bite of the lasagna, savoring the flavors in her mouth.
"Okay. I will tell him. Tonight or tomorrow, whenever I see him next."
"Good girl. Maybe that's what's giving us this feeling of doom. Because you haven't been fully honest with him," Fiona remarked.
Morgan considered it. Did she feel better making the decision not to hide anything from Patrick? Maybe so.
"Perhaps. I guess it isn't a big deal. It just seemed like a lot to lay on someone at once."
Fiona pointed a finger at her.
"Honesty is always the best way. In magick, in healing, in using your abilities, in life…"
"In using my abilities, what do you mean?" Morgan asked in confusion.
"Say you used your abilities for nefarious purposes. Well, the harm you caused would come back on you twofold. If you use them for the greater good, no boomerang effect then," Fiona said simply.
Morgan covered her face with her hands and cursed softly.
"God, no wonder you try to find each of us. If we didn't know these things, something really bad could happen. I'm glad that I was too busy hiding to really explore what I could do with my powers."
Fiona regarded her gravely.
"I'm only grateful that more harm didn't befall you. But, now you're in a good place. And, you're one of mine. So, what's in the package?" Fiona said lightly, gesturing to the package Morgan had brought in.
Morgan allowed the warm pleasure of being called "one of Fiona's" wash through her as she reached for the package she had brought.
"I thought you'd like this," she said softly.
"A gift! What fun," Fiona said and unwrapped the present eagerly, not bothering to hide her joy in receiving a present.
"Oh, this is just lovely," Fiona breathed and unfolded a swatch of lace.
"It's a table runner. Or you could put it on a shelf with some candles on it or something," Morgan said.
"I love it," Fiona said, her eyes shining.
"Patrick's mum makes them. I'll be selling them in the store."
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