Love and Shamrocks: Ballybeg, Book 5 (28 page)

As if on cue, her granddaughter slouched into the kitchen, even moodier than usual. “What’s that awful smell?”

“Tammy,” Clio said in a warning tone.

The girl leaned over to sniff at the pot. “Oh my God. I am so not eating that mess. It smells gross.”

“Tammy, that’s enough.” Clio handed her daughter a knife and a chopping board. “Help me chop vegetables, would you?”

“If it’s the only way I’ll get something edible, I don’t suppose I have much choice.”

“Your grandmother worked hard to create this…um…meal. Show some appreciation.”

“Appreciation for what? The worst birthday dinner ever?”

Helen was looking uncharacteristically frazzled. Her hair had slipped free of its ponytail, and was curling wildly around her ears. She sloshed more wine into her glass. “If you have a problem with my cooking, Tamara,
you
try to produce a five-course meal.”

Tammy, giving the prospect serious consideration, glanced at the new watch Clio had given her for her birthday. “It’s too late now. It’s already after five o’clock. If I start now, we’ll be eating at midnight.”

“We don’t need a fancy meal.” Clio tossed burnt green beans from a frying pan into the rubbish bin. She examined the remaining options in the fridge and the larder. It appeared Helen had used almost every item they’d had in stock to whip up the meal of the decade. Clio grabbed a package of dried spaghetti and put water on to boil. “We have eggs, cream, and bacon. I can make us spaghetti carbonara and garlic bread. How does that sound? We’re low on vegetables, but I think we’ll survive an evening without our greens.”

“And I don’t need a cake,” Tammy said. “Emma sent some marshmallows in my birthday package. They’re up in my room. Why don’t I fetch the box, and we can use them to make Mum’s killer hot chocolate?”

“That sounds like an excellent idea.” Clio exchanged a significant glance with her daughter and lowered her voice. “Thanks for being a good sport about this, pet.”

A small smile played on Tammy’s lips. “No worries. It’s kind of fun to watch Gran try to cook.”

“I heard that!” Helen said, hands on hips. “Cheeky madam.”

Tammy laughed and left to fetch the marshmallows.

Watching Clio chuck the disgusting remains of the beef dish into the bin, Helen began to sob. “I’m sorry. I wanted this evening to be perfect.”

Clio glanced up at her mother. Helen was taking the birthday celebrations way more seriously than she’d anticipated. “I appreciate the sentiment, Mother. I’m truly sorry about taking that cash.”

Helen’s smile was wobbly. To Clio’s astonishment, her mother stepped forward and treated her to a stiff hug. “Don’t worry about it. You did it because you were desperate, and you replaced it soon after. For what it’s worth, I’m not sorry Trevor O’Leary got beaten up, even if that’s not what you intended to happen.”

Clio’s responding smile was equally wobbly. Her mother getting visibly emotional? A rarity, indeed.

“I want us to talk like normal mother, daughter, and granddaughter. I want us to get along,” Helen said. “Tonight’s dinner was supposed to be the first step.”

“Define normal. I don’t think there’s a truly normal family out there.”

“You know what I mean.” Her mother shook her head, sending stray strands of hair flying. “I never should have listened to Larry when you got pregnant. I should have been more supportive. He said I’d ruin my career if I let you stay. I regretted my decision soon after you left, but by then it was too late.”

Clio’s stomach clenched. Yes, her mother
should
have been more supportive, but then Clio had tried to be supportive of Tammy last year and look at the mess she’d caused. Perfect parenting didn’t exist. Or if it did, Clio certainly couldn’t claim to have mastered it. “If I’ve realized anything in the weeks since I moved in with you,” she said softly, “it’s that we’re going to have to let the past go. Whatever relationship we establish has to be based on the here and now with an eye to the future. And I’m sorry for bringing the Ray Greer mess to your doorstep.”

Helen tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “You were trying to protect your daughter. You did what I should have done for you—stood up for your child. I can appreciate that, even if your methods were…interesting.”

Clio let out a laugh. “‘Interesting’ is one way of putting it. And I’m grateful to you for giving Tammy and me a home, especially at short notice.”

Her mother patted her on the back. “I’m glad you’re here, no matter the circumstances.”

Tammy returned to the kitchen, bright pink marshmallows in tow. “More hugging? For a family that doesn’t go in for displays of physical affection, we’re going all out today.”

“Come here.” Clio dragged her daughter into a group hug.

“Next year, I’ll hire caterers. I promise,” Helen said between sobs. “I don’t think I’ll ever learn to cook something edible.”

“When you’re done crushing my ribs,” Tammy said in a sardonic tone, “we have a visitor. Did you two not hear the doorbell?”

Clio looked over her daughter’s shoulder to see Seán leaning in the doorframe.

He nodded to her and gave the crinkly-eyed smile that indicated everything between them would be okay.

She exhaled sharply and went to him. “Seán.”

“Clio.” His voice deepened a notch when he said her name, making her heart leap. “Hope you don’t mind me interrupting. I know you’re busy cooking for Tammy’s birthday.”

She winked at him. “Actually, my mother cooked.”

“Tried to cook,” Helen corrected with a sigh. “Cliona and Tammy are coming to my rescue. It seems I’ll have to scratch cooking off my list of potential talents.”

“I have a gift for Tammy,” Seán murmured in a low voice into Clio’s ear. “I need to run it by you first though.”

“What is it?” she whispered, inhaling his scent greedily.

“A stray puppy.”

Taking her hand, he led her out into the hallway, where he’d deposited a small basket. Inside was the ugliest dog Clio had ever seen.

“Oh my gosh. Poor little guy is so thin.”

“Believe it or not, he’s in better shape than he was on Monday, but he’ll need feeding up.”

Helen and Tammy appeared in the doorway that separated the kitchen from the hall.

The girl gasped. “Is that a puppy?”

Seán met Clio’s eye. Clio looked at her mother.

A wry smile twisted Helen’s lips. She nodded. “As long as I don’t have to walk him, it’s fine by me.”

Tammy kneeled by the basket in raptures. She picked up the little dog and stroked him tenderly. “He’s adorable. Thank you so much, Sergeant.”

“I have his papers here.” He handed an envelope to Clio. “I took him to Dr. Mulligan, the Ballybeg vet. She gave him the first set of shots. The details are in the envelope.”

“Thank you, Seán. That was really thoughtful of you.”

“Would you like to stay for food, Sergeant Mackey?” Tammy asked, still cradling the puppy. “We were about to make Mum’s super hot chocolate.”

“I’d love to but I’m still on duty. I have to get back to the station in a sec.”

“Maybe another time,” Clio said, giving him a significant look.

A small smile teased the corners of his mouth. “I’ll take you up on that offer. For now, I’d better get going. Bye, ladies. Enjoy your birthday, Tammy.”

After Seán left, they returned to the kitchen with the puppy. Helen eyed her daughter curiously. “Sergeant Mackey seems very fond of you.”

Clio felt her cheeks grow warm. “He’s a good man.”

“The pair of you are unbelievable,” Tammy said with a grin. “Mum and her sergeant and Gran and her superintendent.”

It was Helen’s turn to blush. “How ever did you discover that? I thought we were being discreet.”

“Yeah,” Tammy drawled, “so discreet that you made arrangements outside my bedroom door.”

“When was this?” Clio asked with a smile.

“On the night of the robbery,” her mother said primly. “The superintendent was merely offering me a shoulder to cry on.”

Tammy’s grin was wide and mischievous. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

Helen opened her mouth, presumably to give her granddaughter a lecture about giving cheek to her elders.

“More wine?” Clio asked hastily, sloshing a generous serving of liquid into Helen’s glass.

“I don’t usually drink more than one glass of wine,” Helen lied with perfect sincerity. “But as it’s a special occasion, I suppose I can let my hair down a little.”

Clio and Tammy exchanged amused glances.

It wasn’t long before Helen was flushed and merry. She even made a risqué joke or two. It wasn’t enough to mend the damage done to their relationship, thought Clio, but it was a start. Now if only she could pull off a similar feat with Tammy. They were making tentative steps in the right direction.

“Mum?”

“Hmm?” Tammy’s voice jerked her back to the present.

“Will you help me clear the table? Gran’s…not up to the task.”

Helen was singing a song off key, a party hat perched precariously on her frazzled hair. She looked a far cry from her usual groomed, sleek self. “Have we any more wine?” Her voice was slurred, her eyes not properly focused.

“Run out,” Tammy said promptly.

“What sort of establishment is this? How can we run out of wine at a birthday party? Well, never mind. Bring out the gin, Cliona.”

“I’m not sure that’s wise, Mother.”

“Why wouldn’t it be? It’s my idea, and my ideas are always excellent.” Helen staggered to her feet and weaved her way to the drinks cabinet.

“Watch out for the dog.”

The newly christened Travis leaped out of the way just in time to avoid being trampled by five-inch stilettos.

Helen had some difficulty unscrewing the gin.

“Here. Let me.” Clio opened the bottle and poured a modest helping into a glass.

“That’s not nearly enough,” Helen said, outraged. She snatched the bottle from Clio, sending a stream of gin flying. She topped up her glass generously, then sloshed slimline tonic in to top it up. “I usually go for a slice of lemon,” she mused. “But I can’t seem to make the knife work today. Oh, well. Bottoms up.” She took a long swig from the glass, tottering on her heels.

“Oh, Christ,” Clio said to Tammy. “She’s completely hammered.”

Tammy folded her arms across her chest. “Sledgehammered,” she replied with glee. “I gotta say, this is the best birthday I’ve had in years. The only thing that’d improve it would be if I could have a gin and tonic too.”

“No way. I might not win Mother of the Year, but even I’m not that irresponsible.”

Tammy shrugged. “I figured you’d say that. It was worth a shot though.”

“Come here. One last hug before we go back to normal and avoid all physical affection.”

“I love you, Mum.”

“I love you, too, pet. Are you sure you don’t mind being sent to the Reillys next weekend?

“I’m disappointed I’ll miss the excitement of catching burglars in action, but as long as Ma Reilly makes her fruit cake, I’ll survive. Will you look after Travis?”

Clio bent to scoop up the little puppy. He responded by giving her a generous lick on the nose. “Of course. We’ll have a great time, won’t we, Travis?”

SEÁN TOYED WITH a piece of cauliflower and ignored the lump in his throat. How had he let himself get roped into spending Sunday with his aunt and uncle? Oh, yeah…Nora’s pleading brown eyes, searing into his soul. An awkward situation made even more awkward by John-Joe’s recent arrest over the
poitín
.

“More wine?” His aunt hovered by his side, the wine bottle poised to pour yet another dollop of disgustingly sweet white wine.

He held a hand over the glass. “No, thanks.”

“But sure you’re not on duty,” she said, ignoring him and sloshing wine into the glass, forcing him to yank back his hand before it got wet. “Might as well enjoy it while you can.”

Across the table, John-Joe’s flushed face and bleary eyes indicated he’d been enjoying the drink with no qualms. “This wine tastes like shite,” he said but let his wife refill his glass to the brim. “Why do you always buy the sweet stuff, Nora?”

“Because I like it. And because I’m the one doing the shopping. I didn’t see you offering to shift your lazy arse off the sofa to help.”

“Why should I? Aren’t I the one out earning the money to buy your fancy wine?”

“And what do you think I do at the suit rental shop all week? Your money, my arse. It’s
me
keeping a roof over our heads, not you and your bloody Elvis routine. And now that you’ll be up in court again, who knows what will happen?”

“The food was delicious, Nora,” Seán said, cutting through the argument neatly. As instructed by his aunt, he’d brought a nice bottle of wine as part of her birthday gift. She’d immediately hidden the good wine from her husband and served cheap sweet stuff with their dinner, presumably to piss off her husband.
What a marriage.

“More mashed potatoes? Gravy? I made it the way you always liked it when you were a boy.” Nora’s smile was strained, her eyes showing the tension.

Her obvious determination to make the meal a success was touching. Not for the first time since he’d moved back to Ballybeg, guilt chafed at him. Despite being married to an eejit,, Nora was a good sort, and she genuinely cared about Seán. That much was obvious. “I’m grand, thanks. I’ve eaten more than my fill as it is.”

Her smile broadened a little. “I loved you and your brother visiting us when you were kids. Having had so many…disappointments, you were like sons to us until our own boys finally came along.”

“But you understood why I stayed away.”

“Yes, I do. I didn’t like it, but I understood. I suppose the memories are bad enough now, even after all this time.”

“Memories are unreliable,” John-Joe said with a snort. “People see things differently. A child doesn’t see the whole story. You think my brother was an unfaithful bastard, don’t you?”

“John-Joe!” exclaimed Nora. “Leave it, for heaven’s sake. Not on my birthday.”

“You do think that, though, don’t you?” John-Joe jabbed a thick finger in Seán’s face. “I’m not even convinced there was anything serious between him and Helen Havelin, despite what your mother believed. And she was one to talk. Sure she shagged half the town.”