Night Of The Blackbird (10 page)

“Really. And I've heard from Patrick and your folks that there's a budding romance in the west?”

“Just budding,” Katy said firmly. “So my daughter tells me.”

“Absolutely just budding,” Colleen said, laughing. “Mum, I'd never get serious without bringing the poor guy home first and making sure he had the stamina for a real relationship.”

Patrick looked at his sister without the twitch of a smile. “Um, stamina?”

“He's a nice guy?” Danny asked. “Nothing else would do for my, uh, baby sister.”

“The nicest. Hey, you come to California now and then. Maybe you'll be out there soon. I'd love for you to meet him.”

“Dan can size him up for you just like that,” Patrick told her.

“Colleen has a good head on her shoulders. I'm sure he's a fine fellow,” Danny said. “Now, as to Moira…”

“Moira and her Michael,” Katy said.

“He's great, Mum, and you know it,” Moira said.

“He does seem decent,” Patrick acknowledged.

“He's a hunk,” Colleen said decisively.

“Beady eyes,” Danny said, shaking his head.

“Oh, God, that again,” Moira said irritably.

“Well, I think his eyes are fine,” Katy said thoughtfully, taking the comment entirely literally.

“Look again—they're beady,” Danny said, staring at Moira.

“Fine, I'll take another really good look at the man, Danny,” Katy said, setting strips of bacon into a huge frying pan with incredible precision, getting more bacon into the pan than Moira would have thought possible. “But really, he's courteous, and very handsome. And he does adore Moira.”

“Yes, I guess he does,” Danny said grudgingly.

“A vote of approval at last?” Moira inquired.

“I'm withholding final judgment.”

“And he's been so effusive with his comments regarding you,” Moira said.

“Really?” Danny asked.

“Actually, no. He hasn't mentioned you at all.”

“Well, I'm just an old family friend. Not a real member of the family who he needs to impress.”

“But you'll definitely be on top of the guest list for the wedding,” Moira said over the rim of her coffee cup.

Her mother gasped. “Moira Kathleen!”

“No, no, no, Mum,” she said quickly, with a sigh. She had to watch this sparring with Danny in front of her parents. “We're not planning anything—yet.”

“I truly wish you every happiness,” Danny said. His eyes were steady on hers; his voice was sincere.

For some reason, that made her more irritated.

Maybe she didn't want him to be happy for her. Yup, that was it. Completely. She wanted him to be sorry he'd blown everything himself.

“Thanks.” She forced herself to speak casually. “Excuse me for a minute, please. I've got to make a phone call and get going on the day. Mum, would you really mind if I taped the preparation of tonight's meal? If it will really make you uncomfortable…”

“No, no, it's all right. I mean, I just don't want to appear…foolish. You'll be with me all the time, right?”

“Of course. And we'll have Colleen and Siobhan and even the kids, if they'd like. It will be fun. Honestly, Mum.”

“Maybe.”

“No maybe about it,” Colleen assured her.

Katy nodded again. Moira started to her room to make a call, just as the kids came scampering out of the master bedroom.

“Auntie Mo!” Brian said.

“Morning, handsome,” she told her nephew.

Molly was right behind him. “Auntie Mo, Auntie Mo! Presents!” she said, hurling herself into Moira's arms.

“Molly,” Shannon said as she came up behind her sister, very mature at six, “we don't ask for presents.”

“It's all right,” Moira assured them both quickly. “You can ask your aunt but not other people,” she reminded Molly. “But I'm your aunt, and I've promised you a present, so it's okay. I've got to make a call, and then I'll bring the presents out.”

“Thanks, Auntie Mo,” Brian said.

“Where's your mum? I haven't seen her yet.”

“On her way out,” Shannon said. “She told me she didn't sleep much last night, and that when you get older, it's harder to wash away the wrinkles.”

Moira laughed. “Tell your mum that she doesn't have anything that so much as resembles a wrinkle.” She smiled suddenly and couldn't help adding, “Tell her I'm sorry she didn't sleep well.”

She slipped past Brian and the girls and went into her room, where she dialed the Copley and asked for Michael. No answer. She asked for Josh's room, and he quickly picked up, telling her they'd just talked to the four-man crew Michael had hired and that they would all be ready to go in about half an hour.

“So what are we doing? I mean, we've flown by the seat of the pants before, but…”

“We're going to tape right here today. Traditional Irish cooking. Come on over whenever you're all ready. Oh! I couldn't reach Michael.”

“I talked to him earlier. I'll give his cell a buzz and tell him to be at your place.”

Moira hung up, then gathered the presents before starting down the hall to the kitchen. When she got there, she saw that her sister-in-law had preceded her and was talking to her mother at the sink. She turned as Moira came in, smiled broadly and hurried over to her.

Siobhan was a beautiful woman, with long blond hair and deep blue eyes. She looked wonderful, but she also looked tired, really tired. Her slender features were leaner than ever. She was pale, and there was a hint of mauve beneath her eyes, despite her practiced application of makeup.

“Moira, hey!”

“Siobhan, you look terrific,” she said, hugging her sister-in-law tightly and wondering if she sounded as if she was lying.

“Thanks, but I feel like hell this morning,” Siobhan said with a laugh. “So we're doing a typical, natural, completely unaffected and spontaneous cooking section for your program, hmm?”

“Completely spontaneous,” Moira agreed with a laugh. “Even though you'll have to open the door five times so we can get all the right angles on tape, trust me, you'll be completely spontaneous.”

“I was joking. You want me in it, too?”

“Sure, it will be fun. We'll whip up some scones first, so the kids can sit in the dining room and eat them, and then the four of us will do all the stuff in the kitchen. A family thing.”

“A family thing? What about the guys?”

“We'll film them lounging around on the couch, drinking beer, scratching and watching a football game.”

Siobhan laughed. Eamon Kelly, hearing the conversation, instantly protested. “Daughter, how can you say such a thing?”

“Eamon, don't complain,” Danny said lazily from the kitchen table, where he was playing a game of war with Molly, who was slapping her little hand on the cards on the table with a happy giggle. “Sitting on the couch, drinking beer, watching a game—scratching an itch now and then—sounds like a fine way to spend the day,” he said.

“Dad, everyone knows that you work like a horse,” Moira said, ignoring Danny. “You sit on the couch and take it easy.”

“I'll be down seeing to the pub, girl, you know that,” Eamon told her.

“I'll open for you, Eamon,” Danny said. “That way you can watch your daughter at work.”

“I really do have an appointment at one,” Patrick said regretfully.

“Patrick, I thought this was a family vacation,” Siobhan protested.

“Honey, it's an hour's meeting with an important client,” Patrick said.

“Auntie Mo!” Molly suddenly wailed. “Presents!”

“Molly!” Siobhan was the one to chastise her that time.

“Hey, I promised her a present ten minutes ago. That's an eternity when you're only four,” Moira said. “Molly, catch!”

She tossed one of the wrapped plush leprechauns to Molly, who missed. Danny retrieved the gift from the floor for her, while Moira turned to pass out the gifts for Brian and Shannon. When she was done, she walked over with the music box and set it next to her mother.

Katy looked at her with a question in her eyes.

“It screamed your name,” Moira explained.

“Moira, it's neither Christmas nor my birthday—”

“Mum, chill,” Colleen said lightly. “Just open the gift, let us ooh and aah, and say thank-you to Moira.”

Katy grinned sheepishly, then opened the present almost as quickly as the children. Molly squealed happily over her stuffed toy, and Patrick let out an affirming, “Oh, wow, cool.”

But Moira was busy watching her mother as she unwrapped the delicate little fairy and her eyes widened with delight.

“Moira, she's breathtaking.”

“She's a music box.”

“What does she play?”

Moira picked up the figure to wind it.

“‘Danny Boy,”' Danny said softly before the music began.

Moira turned to stare at him as the rest of the room watched the little fairy dance. He was watching her strangely, she thought. The light in the room reflected off his eyes, making them appear golden and yet oddly shielded.

“How did you know?” she asked him.

“Lucky guess,” he said with a shrug. “Hey—bacon's starting to snap.”

“Mary, Jesus, and Joseph,” Katy gasped, seeing her pan smoking.

“I've got it, Mum. Go put her on the mantel or wherever you'd like her,” Moira said, quickly flipping the breakfast bacon.

“I'll grab the eggs,” Colleen said.

“Danny, Patrick, you get the juice,” Moira suggested.

“Juice?” Molly said.

“Hey, where's Granny Jon?” Patrick asked.

“I'll see if she's up,” Danny volunteered, leaving the kitchen.

Katy left the room with her little treasure but was back quickly. With an efficiency that only appeared to be confusion, breakfast arrived on the table. Danny came in escorting Granny Jon, who was apologizing for oversleeping.

“Everything is under control, Mum,” Katy assured her.

“Tea?” Granny Jon asked.

“Strong enough to walk itself across the table,” Moira said in unison with not only her brother and sister, but her parents, as well.

Everyone laughed at that except for Granny Jon, who gave them all an indignant sniff as they grouped around the kitchen table. It was big, but there were eleven of them, and they were tightly packed. For a few minutes the conversation centered entirely around such comments as, “Can you pass the salt, please?” and, “Who has the juice?” and, “Oh, no, Molly, that glass is way too full.”

As Moira was rescuing the glass from her niece, the doorbell rang. “I'll get it,” she said, jumping up. “Must be my crew.”

She poured some of the juice from Molly's plastic cup into her glass, set it down, then headed for the door. When she opened it, she saw that Michael had arrived. There was a nip in the air, and she shivered as she felt the chill. Michael didn't seem to notice it. He looked like an ad for Armani, in a long wool coat and black scarf.

“Morning,” he said. His voice was nicely husky.

“Good morning. Come in, it's freezing out there.”

“The cold is okay, but last night was awfully lonely,” he told her.

“I'm sorry,” she murmured. “My dad, you know….”

“I've got it perfectly,” he said softly. “It's still just a shade, well, you know, lonely.” He was looking over her shoulder. She saw that Danny had followed her to the door.

“Michael, good to see you. You must be a man accustomed to the cold, standing around on the porch like that. What's your pleasure, coffee or tea?”

“Coffee,” Michael said, moving in as Moira shut the door. He slipped out of his coat, allowing Moira to hang it on the eighteenth-century hall tree, and removed his gloves, meeting Danny's eyes. “Coffee, please. I think I've had six cups this morning, and it still doesn't seem like enough.”

“Right you are. One coffee coming up.”

Danny turned to get Michael coffee, his attitude as courteous and casually friendly as could be.

“Don't trust him,” Moira whispered to Michael.

“Oh?”

She shook her head, leading him into the kitchen.

“Morning, Michael. Bacon and eggs—or oatmeal?” Eamon asked, rising to shake Michael's hand in greeting.

“Nothing, thanks, I grabbed a bite early.”

“Michael, you haven't met my sister-in-law, Siobhan, yet,” Moira said, introducing the two.

“Hello, Siobhan. A pleasure.”