by Nora Roberts
“I’ll get you settled.” Smoothly Aidan gestured toward the door. “You just tell our Darcy what you’d enjoy for your lunch. On the house, of course.”
Aidan shot one triumphant look over his shoulder as he led Finkle out.
“What’s this about a theater? And why were you acting as though you’d misplaced a few brain cells since you woke up this morning?”
“Well, I’ll tell you. Go on and get your father his lunch, then come back and have your soup here, and I’ll give you the full story.”
When he had, Brenna sat back, gnawing her bottom lip as she did when thinking hard business. “I know this Magee.”
“Do you?”
“Well, not personal like, but I know of him. Them, actually. Father and son, they are, but the son is more in the way of doing the running of things now.”
“A family business,” Shawn mused. “Well, that’s something I can appreciate.”
“A well-established one at that. He builds beautiful things, does Magee. Mostly theaters and arenas and such. He’s very big in America, and in England too, I’m thinking. My mother’s cousin’s nephew Brian Cagney went to work for one of his construction teams in New York. He wrote me a year or two ago and said if I were to come over, I’d have a job in a wink, as Magee doesn’t look at how a carpenter’s skin is stretched when he hires on.”
“Are you thinking of going to New York?” It was such a shock, even the possibility of it, that he had to work to keep his tone level and casual.
“No.” Her mind already elsewhere, Brenna answered absently. “I work with Dad, and we work here. But Brian writes me now and again. He says Magee treats his people well, pays top of the scale, and has been known to swing a hammer himself when the mood strikes. But doesn’t suffer fools, and if you fuck up, you’re out and gone. I’ll write to Brian, see what he knows of this or can find out.”
Then her eyes sharpened, latched on to Shawn’s. “Is he bringing in his own crews or hiring local for this?”
“I wouldn’t know about it.”
“Well, he should hire local. That’s how it should be. You want to build in Ireland, then you use Irish hands. You build in Ardmore, you hire from the village and Old Parish. Dad and I could use a piece of this.”
“Where are you going?” Shawn demanded when she got up.
“To talk to Mr. Finkle.”
“Wait, wait. God, woman, you never let a fly land on your nose, do you? Now’s not the time.”
“Why isn’t it if I want to get in on the ground floor of it?”
“Let Aidan set the deal first.” He caught her hand. “It’s still in delicate stages. Once we have it as we want it, then you can move on into who should have the building of it.”
She hated to wait, hated that she saw the sense of what Shawn was saying. “I need to know the minute the deal’s done, then.”
“That I can promise.”
“I’ll show you how it should be.” She pulled a pencil out of her pocket and would have sketched right on the wall if he hadn’t grabbed her and shoved a pad of paper under her nose. “This is your north wall. You open that up, an oversized doorway.” She drew quickly, all lines and angles. “And you put a breezeway sort of thing here, for people to move from the pub to the theater and back again. You keep it as much the same as the pub as you can, the same wood, the same flooring, so you have a— what is it—a symmetry that leads to the lobby part. Better if the breezeway fans out, spreads as it goes so that the lobby becomes part of the pub, as on the other way, the pub would become part of the lobby.”
She nodded, glanced up. And narrowed her eyes. “And what might you be grinning at?”
“It’s just such an education watching you work.”
“If I have my way, you’ll be watching me work for months down the line, and Dad can slip into the pub daily for his lunch and pint. I’ve got to get on.”
“Can you take an hour later?” He caught her hand before she could turn to go.
“I suppose I could. It shouldn’t take longer than that for me to get your clothes off and finish with you.”
“I had something else in mind. As for the other, I don’t want timetables and deadlines.” He brought her hand to his lips, rubbed them over her knuckles. “Have a walk with me on the beach.”
It was so like him, she thought. An hour on a winter’s beach with the sea and the wind. “Come and fetch me at Jude’s. If you manage the time, so will I.”
“Then come on and kiss me good-bye.”
Willing to oblige, she rose to her toes, leaned in, and had just touched her lips to his when the door swung open.
“The Finkle believes he can fit in a bit of that soup and some—” Darcy stopped short, gaping at the sight of her dearest friend kissing her brother. “Well, for the sake of Jesus, what’s all this?”
“It was just what it appeared to be before you interrupted. You haven’t finished,” Shawn said to Brenna, and started to pull her back from the full foot she’d jumped in retreat.
“Yes, I have. I’ve work to do.” Considering it the best line of escape, she dashed out the back door.
“Soup, you say?” Casually, Shawn pivoted to the stove.
“Shawn, you were kissing Brenna.”
“So I was, though I had hardly gotten a taste before you came barging in and scared her off.”
“What are you thinking of, kissing Brenna?”
He glanced back, his face bland. “I was sure our mother explained such matters to you, but if you’re needing a refresher course on the subject, I’ll do what I can to educate you.”
“Don’t smart your mouth off at me.” But she was too baffled to work up the kind of temper that entertained them both. “She’s the next thing to a sister to me, and I won’t have you teasing her that way.”
He ladled soup into a thick, generous bowl. “Maybe you should have a word with her before you flay into me.”
“Don’t think I won’t.” She snatched up the bowl. “I know how you are with women, Shawn Gallagher.”
He inclined his head. “Do you now?”
“That I do.” She said it in her darkest, most forbidding tone, added a toss of her head, and stalked out.
The minute she’d served Finkle his bowl and fussed over him enough to bring a rise of color to his cheeks, Darcy informed Aidan she was taking a fifteen-minute break. And was out the door before he could tell her different.
In her hurry she forgot to take off her apron or grab her jacket, so her tip money jingled cheerfully in her pocket as she raced down to her family home.
As a result, she was out of breath and pink of cheek when she dashed through the door. She headed straight upstairs to the door of the nursery, where Brenna was rolling varnish onto the freshly sanded floor.
“I want to know what’s going on.”
“Well, I’m putting on this first coat of sealer. It takes a day or two to dry good and hard. Then I’ll put on another, and that will be that.”
“With you and Shawn. Damn it, Brenna, you can’t go around letting him kiss you that way. People’ll get the wrong impression.”
Brenna kept rolling. She hadn’t worked up the nerve to look at her friend. “Actually, I imagine they’d get the right one. I should’ve told you, Darcy, I just didn’t know how.”
Darcy braced herself with a hand on the doorjamb as the blood drained out of her face. “There’s—there’s something to tell me?”
“Well, not so much, really. But not for lack of trying on my part.” Time to face the music, Brenna told herself, and she turned around. “I want to sleep with him. That’s all.”
“You want to—” Because her throat had snapped shut, Darcy broke off and rubbed a hand over it. “You want to sleep with Shawn? Well, why?”
“The usual reasons.”
Darcy started to speak, then raised a hand to hold Brenna off while she gathered her own thoughts. “All right, I’m thinking. You’ve been in somewhat of a sexual drought just recently, so I can
see you’d . . . No, no, I’m not quite seeing. It’s Shawn we’re speaking of here. Shawn who’s been a thorn in both our sides since we were babies.”
“Sure and it’s an oddity, I admit. But the thing here is, Darcy, I’ve had a bit of a . . . of a yen for him for . . . well, forever. I just thought it was time to act on it or I’d always have one, and where would that get me?”
“I’m sitting down.” She did so, right in the doorway. “You acted on it.”
“I did, and he was as surprised as you are by the idea, at least initially. And he wasn’t very flattering about it, either. But he’s in the way of interested now. It’s just that I’ve discovered this is yet one more thing you can’t rush Shawn over. And it’s fair to killing me.”
Meticulously, she coated her roller with varnish and spread it thin and smooth. “I’m sorry you’re upset about it. I’d hoped that we could just get it done, so to speak, with no one the wiser.”
“Don’t you have any feelings for him, then?”
“Of course I do.” Brenna’s head came up again. “Of course I do, Darcy. We’re all like family. This is just . . . it’s just different.”
“It’s different, that’s the truth.” Struggling to adjust, Darcy sighed out a breath. “I was going to protect you from him—knowing that he has a way with women that can make them softheaded over him, and him barely noticing half the time. But now that I’ve heard what you’ve said, Brenna, I have to turn that coin over.”
Genuinely surprised, Brenna set her roller on the end of the pan. “You think he needs protecting from me? Darcy, I’m not exactly your femme fatale sort of woman.” She spread her arms, knowing very well how she looked in her grubby work clothes and battered boots. “I think Shawn’s safe from the likes of me.”
“Then you don’t understand him, not in his heart. There’s romance in him, the kind of dreaminess that builds castles in the air. He has a delicacy of feeling. He’d cut off his arm before he’d cause hurt to another. Cut them both off because he caused a moment’s pain to someone he cared for. And he cares for you. It’s not so far a step from caring for to loving. What will you do if he falls in love with you?”
“He won’t.” She nearly took a step back, from the question and the idea. “Of course he won’t.”
“Don’t hurt him.” Darcy got to her feet. “Please don’t hurt him.”
“I—” But as Darcy had already turned away, Brenna had to hurry after her. “Darcy, you mustn’t worry so.” Brenna gripped the banister when Darcy turned, halfway down the stairs. “We both know what we’re about, I promise you. We’ve already taken a vow to stay friends through it.”
“Make sure it’s a vow you don’t break. You both mean a great deal to me.” She worked up a smile because her friend seemed to need it. “Sleeping with Shawn,” Darcy said with her usual bite. “What is the world coming to?”
TEN
AFTER CLOSING, WHEN the village was so quiet that only the heartbeat of the sea could be heard, the Gallaghers gathered around the kitchen table of their family home with tea and with whiskey.
“Here’s where we stand.”
“Aidan laid a hand over Jude’s as he spoke, and hers turned under his so their fingers linked. He had a sudden, vivid picture of his parents joining hands in exactly the same manner when they’d sat at table’s head for a family meeting.
The Gallagher way, he thought. One link leading to another in a chain of tradition.
“Well, where do we stand?” Darcy demanded.
“Sorry.” Aidan shook his head. “My mind went wandering. So, at the start. Finkle may be a Yank, but he’s no green one when it comes to horse trading. I wouldn’t believe as successful a man of business as Magee is reputed to be would send any but a sharp individual to look after his interests.”
“Be that as it may,” Shawn considered, “he fell for the man from London.”
Aidan grinned in appreciation and nodded. “Well, now, we’re not green either, come to that. And the Irish were horse traders before those looking for America ever found her. But that’s neither here nor there.”
He started to toss the patiently waiting Finn a biscuit, then remembered the presence of his wife and cleared his throat. “Finkle, he liked the look of the land, the setup, the location, and so forth. I’m sure of that, though he made little noises and grunts and pulled on his lip rather than commit. He said again how the Magee is set on buying, and I said again how that was easy to understand, and a man likes his own and so on and so forth. But how we’re set on leasing.”
“We’d have more money sooner, and could put it to work for us making more if we just sold,” Darcy piped up.
“That’s true enough.” Aidan nodded toward her. “
“And we’d have more control,” Shawn put in, “part of the profit, and a hand in what’s done with what’s ours if we hold the lease. Look ahead, Darcy, to ten years down the road. And twenty, and the legacy to your children.”
“Who says I’m having any?” She shrugged her shoulders. “But I see your point. It’s a hard thing for me to resist grabbing the money held out at the moment.”
“A hundred years’ lease is our offer.”
“A hundred?” Darcy’s eyes popped wide, and Aidan merely looked at his wife.
“A hundred’s the number of magic.”
“This is business, not fairy spells.”
“You use the fairies where you find them.” Shawn added a drop of whiskey to his tea. It seemed to go with these dealings. “If Magee is forward-thinking, a lease of a hundred years will appeal to him. Brenna knows something of his company.” He caught Darcy’s jerk to attention out of the corner of his eye at his mention of Brenna. “From what she told me, he’s a fair man, but far from green himself. So I’m thinking he’ll look even beyond the century.”
“As should we. A pound a year for a hundred years.”
“A pound?” Darcy threw up her hands. “Why not just give him the bloody land, then?”
“For that price we ask for fifty percent of his theater.”
Darcy settled again, her eyes sharpening. “And settle for?”
“Twenty. And at the end of the term the land, and the theater, are owned, equal shares. Gallagher and Magee.”
“It’s a sweet deal if the theater takes hold.” Darcy agreed. “And leaning heavily in our direction.”
“It’ll take hold,” Aidan said with a gleam in his eye. “With Gallagher luck and Magee money.”
“I’m willing to trust that. Now, why should he agree to those terms?”
“I—” Jude started to speak, then closed her mouth.
“No, have your say.” Aidan gave her hand a squeeze. “You’re part of this.”
“Well, I think he will agree. After some negotiations and posturing and perhaps a few more adjustments. You may have to give a bit more, but in the end you’ll have fairly close to what you’re after—because in the end, all parties want the same thing.”
“Magee wants his theater,” Darcy put in.
“More than that.” In an automatic gesture, Jude slapped Shawn’s hand before he could sneak Finn a biscuit. “He has a reason for choosing this place, and the kind of man who helms that successful a business can indulge himself from time to time. His people came from here,” she went on. “His great-uncle was engaged to my great-aunt.”
“Of course.” Shawn tapped a finger against the whiskey bottle as it came to him. “John Magee who was lost in the first great war. His youngest brother—Dennis, was it—went off to America to make his fortune. I didn’t put it together before now.”
“I don’t know how much sentiment is in the motive for this Magee selecting Ardmore,” Jude went on, “but it’s bound to be part of the motivation. If this Magee had anything like my background, he grew up on stories of Ireland, and of this area in particular. Now he wants a more tangible tie with the place his family came from. I understand that.”
“That Yank sentiment over ancestors.” Amused, Darcy
helped herself to the whiskey. “I’ll never understand it. Ancestors . . . sure and they’ve been dead for long years, haven’t they? But if sentiment helps glue the deal, that’s fine with me.”
“That’ll be part of it, but—sorry, it’s the psychologist in me again—he’ll also have his eye on profit. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have one of the largest companies in the States. And for the same reasons, he’ll have his eye on his reputation.”
“And ours will be on our own.” Shawn lifted his glass.
“You’ve quite the reputation, don’t you?” Darcy sent Shawn a sour smile.
“Not as well rounded as yours, darling.”
“At least I don’t go around seducing childhood friends.”
Slowly, and with a dangerous gleam in his eye, he set his glass down again. Before feathers could fly, Aidan stretched an arm between them. “Now what? What’s all this?”
“Ah, she’s got her nose out of joint because I kissed Brenna.”
“Well, there’s nothing to squabble about . . .” Aidan’s hand dropped onto the table. “Brenna O’Toole?”
“Of course Brenna O’Toole.”
“What were you doing kissing our Brenna?”
“Aidan.” Jude tugged on his sleeve. “This is Shawn’s business.”
“It’s ours as it’s Brenna.”
“Mother of God. It’s not as if I grabbed her by the hair and dragged her to the kitchen floor to force myself on her in a carnal fashion while she tried to fight me off.”
“You were on the kitchen floor?”
“We were not.” At his wits’ end, Shawn pressed his fingers to his eyes. “A man can’t have a simple life in this family. I kissed Brenna, and not for the first time. Neither do I plan on it being the last. And I fail to see why that’s such a puzzlement to everyone who knows us. And an outrage as well.”
Darcy folded her hands. She’d learned something she’d hoped to by the poking at him. He hadn’t mentioned that it was Brenna who’d initiated the shift in relationship. With another man she’d chalk it up to ego. But with Shawn she knew it was instinctive protection of the woman involved.