by Ellie Hall
“Where did you make reservations?” he asked.
“We heard about a great place from a couple we met at the airport. They insisted we try it.” Teagh’s father turned to his wife. “What was it called again, Margaret?” his father asked his mother.
“Clyde only hears the words ‘delicious meal’ never mind the important details.” She shook her head in Sophie’s direction as though indicating that his father was hopeless.
“He’d be lost without me, adrift in this big city.” His mother pulled out her phone and smartly tapped her pudgy finger to the notes app. “It’s called The Fig Farmhouse. All locally sourced from farmers. If we don’t get there soon, they’ll give up our table. We made the reservation for three people, but I’ll call now and add you too, Sophie. I can’t wait to get to know you. This is such a pleasant surprise.”
His mum was practically giddy like she’d just met her college roommate—not that she’d gone to college. Teagh was the first in his family to attend university. His parents were probably tired from the flight and the energy of New York City, a far cry from their farm in rural Scotland, resulting in them being overly excited.
Sophie opened and closed her mouth as though ready to explain, but his mother was already speaking to someone on the phone, updating their reservation.
Meanwhile, his father butted in, asking if the table could be in a quiet part of the restaurant since he was becoming hard of hearing and wanted to know all about the gym, his son’s new girlfriend, and life in the city.
Teagh ran his hand down his face. He was sure the person on the other end of the phone line didn’t need to hear all the details, not that they were all even true.
Teagh turned to Sophie and leaned in, breathing her cinnamon apple scent. He blinked once, twice, and then came to his senses. “I’m sorry about this. I wasn’t expecting them for a few more days. I—”
She bit her lip. “Don’t worry about it. They’re so sweet, but the truth is I can’t understand everything they say.” That explained why she looked overwhelmed. Relief washed over him since it was likely that she didn’t grasp the comment about her being his girlfriend.
“Is it the heavy accent or the fact that they’re repeatedly speaking at the same time?” he asked.
“Both,” she admitted with a laugh as though charmed by his parents.
“I’ve actually never seen them like this,” he confessed. “It is overwhelming. They haven’t been here in the US for almost fifty years. Not since they were both in their very early twenties.” He leaned back on his heels, remembering that his parents had met in New York City. Two Scots on holiday—one visiting a cousin and the other for a boxing match. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. In fact, when they’re done telling their life story to whatever poor soul answered the phone at the Fig Farmhouse, I’ll explain that we’re not—” He gestured between them. “Truly, you don’t need to come if you’re busy or—.”
“Of course she wants to join us,” his mother said, bustling over. “Don’t you, dear?”
“Oh, um, sure.” Sophie nodded shyly.
Teagh’s mother clapped her on the back. A little puff of what was likely flour lifted into the air. “Do you bake?” his mother asked, ever keen when it came to anything involving sugar, butter, and flour.
“I do. In fact, I own a bakery.” Sophie’s smile lifted to her eyes at the mention of the bakery.
“Right next to the boxing club,” Teagh said, ready to explain that they’d simply walked home together and that they weren’t together-together.
Teagh’s father wrapped his arm around his wife’s shoulder. “It was meant to be. Just like us.” He met his son’s eyes. “I had to travel farther than I’d ever gone to find true love all those years ago.”
“Then it just so happened that we lived only a town apart.” Margaret smiled broadly at her husband.
“Small world. We understand why you needed to venture so far from home now.” His father nodded.
His mother beamed at Sophie and Teagh. “After all, home is where the heart is.”
Teagh was about to explain the reality of the situation but in Sophie’s presence, he felt a jolt, a ripple, a tickle, a longing, and his heart pounded in confirmation.
Chapter 7
Sophie
Teagh’s parents were charming and delightful, but their Scottish accents were so thick, she was mostly following along with the conversation through snatches of words or phrases she understood and putting them into context.
What was very clear though was that they assumed she and Teagh were a couple. The idea wasn’t as off-putting as her mother wishing and pleading with her to get back together with Hayden. It had been non-stop during the months leading up to her leaving for New York. In fact, there was something oddly charming about Teagh despite how he came off as gruff and grouchy. And the way he’d been looking at her since she told Jonathan that if he wasn’t content with the policies at the bakery, he could find other employment suggested Teagh respected her.
There was also the moment they’d exchanged the evening before, standing in nearly the same place in the building. Their eyes had locked and lingered for longer than was usual between two people who’d just met. His blue-gray eyes warmed her in a way that defied their coolness.
Whenever she was in his presence little sparks lit up her skin, her thoughts, and a place in her chest that had all but been fast asleep. The sparks gave it an unexpected jumpstart, warming her through.
However, it had only been earlier that day that she’d consciously decided to let her past with Hayden go. She resolved that being with him hadn’t been a mistake, per se, but a learning experience. She now knew what she wasn’t looking for in a man—not that she was she looking for a man.
Teagh gripped Sophie’s elbow and gazed at her with those cool blue-gray eyes.
She swallowed.
“Truly, you don’t have to...” He trailed off as the sparks grew in intensity ricocheting between them.
The way he looked at her since they’d met didn’t so much bring a thought to mind, but a feeling that she wasn’t sure it was safe to identify.
A sharp voice interrupted the moment. “You’re a long way from your pathetic little farm. How’s that ramshackle mess going?” asked the woman from the night before. “Or did Teagh have to bail you out again?”
He spun around, releasing her arm. His hands tightened into fists. Clyde gripped his son’s shoulder.
“Why are you—?” Teagh asked.
She batted her eyelashes. “You know why.”
“I don’t think so,” Margaret hissed when she spotted Teagh’s ex.
If Sophie and Teagh had exchanged a moment of mutual attraction, it was the exact opposite of the standoff between Teagh’s diminutive mother, Margaret, and the tall, angular, and angry woman in stilettos.
“Well, hello, Teresa. Fancy meeting you here.” Margaret didn’t falter under Teresa’s piercing gaze. “You know, I never forget a face, but I was really hoping that I’d never have to remember yours.” Unlike during Teagh’s parents’ whirlwind arrival, Margaret spoke slowly, clearly, deliberately, her tone was low, almost the growl of a mama bear.
Teresa tossed her head back and cackled. “Is that because I’m so beautiful?”
“Beautiful? No, dear. You’re not pretty enough to be that foolish, but I get it. An honest mistake. The good news is that jellyfish have survived—” Margaret turned to her husband. “What was it that we learned on that nature program, Clyde?” Without waiting for a response the older woman continued. “That’s right, jellyfish have survived something like sixty million years and they don’t have brains so there’s hope for you, Teresa.”
Sophie couldn’t help it, but her eyes widened.
Teresa folded her arms across her chest.
Clyde clapped his hands together. “Well, about that reservation? We should really head out now.”
Margaret and Teresa didn’t waver from their face-off.
Clyde stepped forward and placed his hand gently on his wife’s arm. “Dear...” he started.
Sophie cleared her throat, eager to dash up the stairs and away from the argument, but before she could move a muscle, Teresa’s attention landed on her.
“And who’s this ugly duckling? I see you moved down in the world, Teagh.”
Sophie flinched. Heat rose to her cheeks then she remembered Teagh had called her pretty. Had he meant that? Not even Hayden had remarked on her looks unless she was dressed up for an event. On those occasions, he’d said she looked ready to go out and once he’d commented that she looked lovely, but that was on the heels of one of his friends complimenting his fiancé, also dressed in a gown.
Teagh stiffened beside her, but if he was preparing to give Teresa a tongue lashing, Margaret beat him to it.
“You’re like school in the summer, Teresa. No class. I’ll have you know this sweet girl is Teagh’s girlfriend and she’s twice the woman you are. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have dinner reservations.” She linked her arm through Sophie’s and started strolling off. Then she turned and said, “I’m new to this city, but I believe the trash gets put out tomorrow. Don’t be late.” With a little sniff, she led Sophie, still wearing her work clothes and covered in a light dusting of flour and shock, out the door.
Once outside, Margaret took a deep breath of the brisk night air and patted Sophie’s hand. “My apologies for getting all fired up, dear. But you know what that dreadful woman did to my son so you’ll understand seeing her again makes me a little feisty.”
Teagh and Clyde caught up to them on the sidewalk.
“Margaret, have you collected your senses?” Clyde asked after a moment.
“Yes, dear,” she replied. “But what I want to know is what that wench is doing here, in your new city, and in your building, Teagh?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. Much like you, she just showed up.” Teagh sounded weary as though the confrontation had exhausted him.
“Yes, but the difference is we’re welcome and she’s just rubbish.”
“I wish I could disagree.”
Sophie wondered what Teresa had done to Teagh. It was also a surprise that he had an ex-wife and strange that she’d presumably moved from Scotland to the US and into the same building as him. She feared she’d stepped into some family drama, had experienced enough of her own, and didn’t want any part of it.
They were soon at the restaurant, and Margaret and Clyde greeted the host like they were old friends, leaving Teagh and Sophie in a waiting area.
He ran his hand down his face again. She’d noticed his large and taut muscles before, but not how big his hands were. “I’m sorry about all that. All this. She’s a real mama bear and now, it seems you’re one of her cubs too.”
“I guess I’m glad to have her on my team. I would not want to get on the wrong side of your mother.” She gave a half-smile.
The corner of his lip twitched. “So, Sophie, you just got a glimpse into my crazy life, tell me something about you besides your name.”
“I was under the impression your life was neat and orderly, if not entirely quiet. Though thank you for keeping the music down earlier.”
“I’m getting soundproofing installed on Friday so it shouldn’t be a problem again, but I was serious about making sure you let me know anytime you go in the back alley.”
“If you take after your mother, I have nothing to fear.”
In the dim restaurant, alight with candles, his eyes twinkled like he was going to laugh. She had yet to see him smile or laugh and she wondered what he’d look like, lit up, unrestrained, happy. Given the encounter with Teresa, it seemed he had a reason or two to be on the other side of gleeful abandon.
“So, the plan is to rendezvous in the alley? That sounds shady. I’m a cheerful kind of person and would prefer something more—” She was going to say romantic, going along with the joke, but his parents strode over, calling for them that the table was ready.
He bit his lip long enough for her to notice as though forcing back a chuckle. Again those eyes of his lifted from flat blue-gray to what looked like in the dim light of the restaurant a warm twinkle.
For the next two hours, Sophie learned that Clyde had been an amateur boxer, but had given it up after an injury and went to work on the family farm, which he then inherited.
Margaret was a beekeeper, which kept them tucked into a long conversation since honey was Sophie’s sweetener of choice. This then segued into baking.
Together, the couple operated a small farm, went to the market on the weekend, and dreamed of one day hosting a bed and breakfast on site.
“But you know, we’re on the downward end of things, being in our late sixties, so we may have to leave the dream to our children.” Margaret then described each of Teagh’s siblings, of which there were four. He was in the middle.
“And because he’s the only one to follow in my footsteps, actually bringing my youthful dream of being a professional boxer to being, he’s the best candidate to run the farm,” Clyde said.
Teagh shifted uncomfortably.
“Down the road, son. Down the road. I understand you’re occupied at the moment. Sophie seems keen on the bees so it would work out beautifully.” He winked at Sophie.
“Don’t worry though, your father and I plan on being around for a lot longer, despite Teresa’s desire to see us in the grave.”
“Can we not talk about her?” Teagh asked.
Sophie was glad he said that but was also curious about what Teresa did to incite such ire in his family.
Their entrees came, helping to create a natural segue in the conversation because the Coyles had numerous questions about their dishes, the ingredients, and preparation.
“I guess they’ve become real foodies. They even have a website called Fiddlehead Farm where they document the dishes they prepare, life on the farm, and more.” Teagh spoke with an air of pride.
“So you’re a professional boxer?” she asked. She’d have to do an internet search of her own, but not only to see the website Teagh mentioned.
“Was. I’m retired now and then I took a detour or two... I trained people privately, but now with the gym, I can open up to serve more people and coach.”
“Wow. I had no idea.”
“Eh. Just followed in the old man’s footsteps, I guess,” Teagh said.
Both his parents jumped back into the conversation. “Don’t listen to him. He’s too humble,” Margaret said.
Clyde went on to rattle off stats that made little sense to Sophie but sounded grand, impressive, and a source of pride for the Coyle family.
As the night wore on, her ears fell into rhythm with their thick accents and she understood them better.
By the time they walked back to the building that both Sophie and Teagh lived in, she realized neither of them had corrected his parents’ assumption that they were a couple.
One thing was clear, they adored her and part of Sophie basked in that—she was not a darling of Mr. and Mrs. Berwick, Hayden’s parents.
Another part of her was afraid to correct Margaret after witnessing the exchange between her and Teresa.
And still another part of her couldn’t deny that the idea of being with Teagh wasn’t altogether a bad one. Perhaps it didn’t make sense from a logical standpoint, but her heart had other ideas. Namely, it had gone from its regular rhythm to rapidly thumping back and forth like Teagh’s speedbag the more time she spent with him.
After Mr. Spinigotti greeted them in the foyer, Sophie realized it was past her bedtime, at least when working baker’s hours.
Margaret showed no signs of slowing down as she launched into the topic of the upcoming wedding. Since Sophie had to get up at three a.m. and unable to get a word in edgewise, she started slowly toward the stairs.
“Sophie, we’ll try to be by the bakery the day after next between our tour of the Museum of Natural History and our viewing of Cats on Broadway—I do w
ish you’d join us, Teagh. We could probably get a ticket for you too, Sophie.” She leaned into Sophie and in a low voice said, “His fans named him Teagh ‘The Lion’ Coyle.”
“That was because he’d pounce like a big cat,” Clyde said, which made Sophie wonder if he was actually hard of hearing as he’d mentioned earlier.
“But I rather like to think of his as a lionheart. Tough on the outside and a sweetheart on the inside.” Margaret winked.
A faint pink hue rose to Teagh’s cheeks.
She smirked, delightfully amused by this crash course in all things Teagh Coyle.
“In fact—” Margaret started.
Teagh interjected. “Alright, alright. Let’s leave a few things to mystery.”
Margaret huffed good-naturedly. “Fine, but I want to know if you’ve bought a dress for the wedding yet?”
Sophie turned to Teagh. It was time to tell them the truth. “Actually, Mrs. Coyle—”
“Please, call me Margaret. You’re practically family already,” she said warmly.
Teagh interrupted. “Actually, Sophie, I was wondering if you’d like to attend my cousin’s wedding with me.” His gravelly voice became clearer as he knocked some of the rust off when it came to asking out a woman.
Again, her eyes widened. That was not where she’d expected the conversation to go, never mind the entire night. It had been full of surprises. “Oh. Oh.”
“You hadn’t asked her yet, Teagh?” Margaret said. “Shame on you. Women need to plan ahead.”
He shook his head whether from exasperation or to answer the question, she wasn’t sure. “Pardon my mother, she’s not usually quite so overbearing.”
Margaret was endearing, unlike her own mother who was a worrywart. “Nonsense. But I’ll tell you what, being in this city again has awoken something in me. It’s all just so thrilling.” She squeezed her hands together and shook them with excitement.
“And there I thought we were country mice,” Clyde said, wrapping his arm around his wife’s shoulders and slowly leading her toward the door. “I rather like this side of you.”