Cara O'Shea's Return (7 page)

Guilty as charged. Since Cara didn’t know how to respond, she remained silent.

“Talk to him, Cara. It’s up to you whether you can forgive him or not once you do. I hate seeing you so miserable, and until you settle things with your father, well...I hate seeing you miserable.”

****

The idea of talking to her father made Cara’s stomach ache, so she put it out of her mind. As it turned out, her talk with
Maive
also had to wait. Which was just as well. If the curt nod Finn gave Cara two days later, when he passed her at the permit counter in the town hall, was any indication, he would need more time to get over his anger.

She’d decided to go ahead and get the permit paperwork for the renovation started, even before they’d settled things—
if
things between them
could
be settled. She was itching to get started, and Maive’s unexpected absence, while visiting her great grandchildren for a few days, only added to the delay. Cara hadn’t had a chance to talk to Finn’s great aunt yet, and she wasn’t going to go begging for forgiveness until she had.

On Saturday morning, she walked the two blocks to the Palmer House Restaurant to meet Erin, just back from her honeymoon. Strolling along the tree-lined sidewalk, Cara dodged two young boys on skateboards. She grinned at the rhythmic clatter of the hard rubber wheels calling out a steady cadence on the seamed cement pathway.

Her eyes drank in the familiar sights of the various homes and storefronts of the town center. With the exception of the new library across from the town hall, built a few years back, and the bright neon sign flashing outside the video store where Pandy’s market used to be, she could be thirteen again, racing to meet Meggy for an ice cream at the Dairy Barn.

She chuckled at the memory.

Thinking of Meggy, she considered her reason for meeting Erin this morning. A sous chef at one of the more upscale restaurants in Boston, Meggy had long dreamed of running her own kitchen. Her eyes lit with interest yesterday when Jill Carlson, who it appeared was the current president of the town grapevine, had stopped by the studio to announce the historic Palmer House restaurant might soon be on the market. Jill breezed out of the studio after a twenty-minute gossip session, and Cara immediately turned to her friend.

“Are you interested in buying the restaurant?”

“Are you kidding me? The property is gorgeous. And this close to Boston, it’s a prime location. Close enough to draw people from the city, without the overhead of a downtown location. With the right menu...” Meggy sighed wistfully, shaking her head. “But I could never swing it. I have some money put aside, but not nearly enough. I’m not ready yet. Besides, I’m a chef, not a businesswoman. What the hell do I know about running a restaurant? I wouldn’t know where to begin on the business side.”

The germ of an idea sprouted in Cara’s mind. “Shan’s been managing Spinelli’s for six years.”

Meggy’s brows jumped together in interest. “Do you think she’d be interested? Does she have any money?”

“I have no idea if she’d be interested, and I doubt she has any money.” The cautious excitement in Meggy’s eyes faded. “I, on the other hand, do have money.” Cara grinned.

She had cautioned Meggy that Shan may not be interested regardless, and decided to check with Mrs. Hawkins before she approached her sister with the idea. Years of sampling Meggy’s and Shan’s recipes convinced Cara the two women would cook circles around the short order cook at the family restaurant. However, if the owner wasn’t considering selling, there would be no point in pursuing the idea.

Erin waited at the front counter, flashing her wedding band at the teenage hostess when Cara arrived at the Palmer House.

“Erin, Erin, married lady.”

“Cara!” Erin spun around and grabbed Cara in a hug.

“How was the honeymoon?” She laughed when her vivacious sister fanned her face with her hand while rolling her eyes to the back of her head. “That bad, huh? Do we need to have a family meeting, so I can explain the birds and the bees to my new brother-in-law?”

Erin’s smile was dreamy. “Oh, Cara. It was so beautiful. Bermuda is another world!”

“So I’ve heard.” She glanced at the teenage hostess. “We need a table, please.” When they were seated, Cara grinned. “Well, marriage certainly agrees with you. You look like a million bucks.”

“I feel like a billion!” They gave their orders to the waitress, and Erin leaned forward on her elbows. “So, how’s the studio coming along?”

“The plans are made and the permits have been filed. I’m just waiting on the contractor.” She was hedging, but Finn and that disaster in her studio the other day weren’t something she planned to discuss, with anyone.

When Mrs. Hawkins exited the kitchen, she immediately ambled over to their table. She smiled down at Erin. “If it isn’t Mrs. Espizitto!”

Erin beamed a delighted smile. “Hello, Mrs. Hawkins. Do you remember my sister, Cara?”

“Of course I do. I hear welcome home is in order.”

“Yes, it is.” Cara returned the older woman’s smile.

“I also heard you bought the old book store. That must have made Finn crazy! He’s been after Maive to sell it to him for years.”

Cara blinked. She’d forgotten how few secrets there were in Palmerton. “He’ll get over it.” She bared her teeth in a sly grin and Mrs. Hawkins laughed. “There’s another interesting bit of gossip going around town,” Cara introduced. “Rumor is you want to retire to spend more time with your grandkids.”

If Mrs. Hawkins was surprised people knew her private business, she didn’t show it. She smiled serenely, and nodded. “I’ve been in business for twenty-six years. It’s time I remove my apron and take my grandbabies to Disneyworld.”

“Have you had any offers on the place?” Cara ignored the questioning stare Erin shot at her.

“As I haven’t actually put it on the market yet, no, I haven’t. Why? I thought you were an artist not a restaurateur.”

Cara laughed. “Oh, painting is my forte. The only thing I know how to do with food is eat it.”

Mrs. Hawkins chuckled and moved aside when the waitress appeared with their breakfasts. “Well then, I’ll leave you to enjoy your meals.”

“What was that all about?” Erin asked the moment Mrs. Hawkins walked away.

Cara salted her omelet. “How do you think Shan would feel about becoming the owner of her own restaurant?”

Erin leaned back in her chair. “Are you serious?”

“I don’t know. That depends on Shan, and Meggy. Between the two of them they could give the other three restaurants in town a run for their money, don’t you think?”

Erin tapped her fork on the table, as if considering the idea. “I think Shan would love it, but you know she’ll balk at the idea of you lending her the money.”

Cara shrugged. “Maybe not. Meggy has some money put aside. She’s interested in a partnership with Shan. With Meggy putting up half the money, Shan could consider me a silent investor. It really depends on what Mrs. Hawkins wants for the place.”

Erin scooted back her chair. “Let’s go ask Shan.”

Cara pointed her fork at Erin’s full plate. “There’s no rush. Eat your breakfast, Mrs. Espizitto.”

Shan balked at the idea, just as Erin predicted, but her eyes were full of the same cautious excitement Cara had seen in Meggy’s. And Cara knew her sister. The seed was planted. Shan would mull it over. All Cara had to do was sit back and let her.

For what seemed like the millionth time, she sent a silent thanks to Evan Malone. His friendship eased the loneliness during her eight years of self-exile, and his belief in her as an artist had brought her success beyond her dreams.

The memory of his grin the day he handed her that first, stunning commission check made her laugh aloud. God, she loved having a healthy bank account! Give her a beard and a belly and she’d give Santa a run for his money.

A wide smile tipped her lips as she rang Maive’s doorbell.

“You look like the cat that swallowed the canary.” Maive pushed open door. “Did you find a lost Rembrandt behind a wall in that building you stole from me?”

Cara laughed and followed her into the parlor. Maive moved to an open curio cabinet and resumed dusting the delicate figurines filling every shelf.

“I didn’t steal a thing from you, if I can believe my accountant. It sent him into convulsions having to write you that check.”

Maive harrumphed and swiped at a porcelain southern belle with the feather duster in her hand.

“Your carpenter may disagree with that opinion though. The stealing part.” Cara ran her fingers over the back of the settee. “He seems pretty possessive of my new home.”

“It’s not good for a man to always get everything he wants.” Maive waived the duster dismissively. “Disappointment builds character. Missing out on the place will be good for the boy.”

“And you think Michael Finnegan needs his character built?”

Maive turned, studying her. “I didn’t say that. Finn’s as fine a man as they come. He’s just led a charmed life. That kind of thing can make a man overconfident.”

“He is that,” Cara complained beneath her breath.

“So, you’ve come to talk about Finn.” Maive lowered to her favorite seat and waved for Cara to sit. “You won’t find a more talented craftsman in this county.”

“His talent as a carpenter isn’t in question.”

When Cara fell silent, Maive scowled at her. “Spit it out, girl. I’m ninety years old. I could keel over before you say what’s on your mind.”

Cara choked on a laugh, though she needed to tread lightly. The old lady was too perceptive for her own good, and Cara had never been very adept at concealing her emotions when it came to Finn. To avoid blurting out the entire embarrassing incident at the studio the other day, she asked, “Has he always gotten everything he wanted?”

“What kind of idiotic question is that?” Maive snorted. “You want me to answer your questions, you ask me straight out. What is it you want to know?”

Swallowing nerves threatening to choke her, Cara inhaled a deep breath. “I want to know about Andrea.”

“You want to know about his ex-wife?” Maive eyes glittered with speculation.

“It’s not what you think,” Cara quickly added.

“And just what is it I’m thinking?”

She was digging a hole deeper every time she opened her mouth. In the interest of self-preservation, she got to the point. “Finn told me Andrea left him because he retired from football.”

Maive nodded and her eyes went hard. “The woman was and is an insatiable social climber. I never knew what the boy saw in her. She loved the idea of being the wife of a famous quarterback infinitely more than she ever loved him—if she loved him at all. She married a congressman from Pennsylvania three months after the divorce. Good riddance, I say.”

Hearing his claim validated, a knot of guilt tighten in Cara’s stomach. Not that she’d actually doubted him. She simply found it hard to believe any woman would walk away from a man like Finn of her own accord. Apparently Andrea the Addlepated had done just that—and assigning ridiculous appellations to a woman she never even met was a sure sign she was losing her mind.

She realized she’d been staring into space for too long when Maive purred, “So, our Finn told you about his ex-wife, did he?”

Too rattled to be evasive, Cara muttered miserably. “I sort of asked him about her.” When Maive didn’t prod further, only sat there grinning, Cara rolled her eyes and explained. “Actually, I...sort of accused him of being unfaithful to her.”

Maive’s gray brows snapped together, all hint of amusement gone. “The hell you say! My boy would never do any such thing.”

“I know that…now.” Cara squeezed her hands together on her lap.

“What were you thinking? Accusing him of something like that?”

“I had my reasons.” Her defense sounded weak, even to her own ears. When Maive continued to frown, she blinked guiltily. “Okay, so I was wrong. I’m going to apologize, but he’s so angry with me he’s refusing to do the work on the studio. He told me to call some guy named Gillespie.”

“Of course he’s angry. I’d have been shocked if he wasn’t.” Maive leaned back on the settee. “His divorce is a sore spot for him. It’s the one time in his life he failed, and failed big in his mind.”

Cara grimaced and bit her lower lip. “You’re not making me feel any better.”

“Was I supposed to?”

She closed her eyes at the caustic reply and flopped back in the chair, defeated.

“Why would you accuse him of something like that, anyway? Do you even know Andrea?”

She opened her eyes and met Maive’s steady gaze, unsure what to say. She wasn’t sure she could explain, even if she wanted to. “It’s a long story.”

“And an even longer history?” Maive observed keenly.

Far too perceptive, Cara decided. When she remained stubbornly silent, Maive sighed.

“Not all marriages end due to infidelity, Cara. Some just end. Finn’s was one of those, and he was better off when it did.” Maive shrugged her thin shoulders before adding, “I happen to know Finn is up at that old rat trap of a place he’s restoring this afternoon. You remember where Maple Street is?” She didn’t wait for Cara’s reply. “It’s the old Sawyer place at the end of the street. You can’t miss it.”

“I’m not sure he’ll accept my apology. He was pretty mad.”

“Do you want Gillespie doing the renovations on your studio?”

“No. No, I don’t.”

“Neither does Finn.” Maive cackled and sat forward on the settee. “Oh, if I know my boy, he’ll make you sweat a little, but he’s not going to let that clod Gillespie get his hands on your studio. You owe Finn a genuine apology.” Her eyes flashed with mischief. “Once you’ve given it, offer him the job again. When he refuses, and he will, thank him very sweetly for Gillespie’s name. You watch how fast the boy changes his tune.”

Cara’s lips formed a small smile. It faded quickly. “Why are you helping me? What I accused him of was rotten. I wouldn’t help me.”

“You’ll make it right with him.” Maive nodded with firm resolve. “And if I had to guess, I’d say you probably had a good reason for believing something like that of him, even if you turned out to be wrong. Besides…” She settled back once again. “I’ve seen the way Finn looks at you. I think you’ll be good for the boy.”