The Celtic Riddle (24 page)

There was an envelope waiting for me on my return. In it was a note.
/ came to see you, it said. / will come back on my day off. Day after
tomorrow, 1o'clock. Please wait for me. There is something I have to
tell you. Very important. D. Flood.

Chapter Twelve

A PIERCING SPEAR WAGING WAR

REGRETTABLY, the Byrne family followed through on their threat to
take legal action to get Rose Cottage away from Alex.

"Lara," the smooth voice said. "Charles, here." I could almost smell
his cologne over the telephone lines, and I confess my heart did a
little dance, all my good intentions to the contrary. "I'm afraid I
have bad news. Despite my efforts to persuade them to the contrary, the
Byrne family has engaged the services of another solicitor and are
suing Eamon Byrne's estate for Rose Cottage. They're claiming, as I
suspected they might, that Eamon was non compos mentis due to the
spread of the cancer to his brain. We will need to get together to
discuss how to proceed. Ryan and I will be driving down your way later
today. Do you think you could get in touch with Mr. Stewart for me, and
the four of us might meet for an hour or two late this afternoon?"

I thought we could. As irritated as I was by this
development,IdecidedthatseeingCharlesagain would go some distance
toward making me feel better.

We met in the lounge of the Inn, sitting at a large table so that
Charles and Ryan could spread their notes about. The two of them were
in lawyer uniform again, three-piece suits and all, which turned more
than a few heads of the rest of the clientele in this rather more
casual setting.

"Now, Mr. Stewart," Ryan said, smiling rather engagingly. "You
really mustn't worry about this. I can assure you the family has no
case. We have copies of earlier versions of Eamon Byrne's Will, some of
them dating back several years, and you were named in all of them. So
their case, the idea that Eamon was not quite right at the end, if you
see what I mean, will simply not hold water. We are hopeful, I think,"
he said, looking toward Charles who nodded, "that the court will find
this action merely capricious and refuse to even hear it."

"I don't know," Alex said. "I've been thinking a great deal while
I've been out at Rose Cottage. It's a lovely place, but…"

"Of course it is," Ryan interrupted. "A wonderful place. And Eamon
Byrne wanted you to have it."

"I know," Alex said, "but I don't need it, and I'm beginning to
think-I mean all the rumors in the village-that the Byrne family might…"

"Hardly," I interjected. "They still have Second Chance, and while
they may have to sell it, they're not exactly in the poorhouse. What
could you get for a place like that these days, anyway? More money than
you and I will ever see, I'm sure. And they still have control of Byrne
Enterprises, even if it isn't doing as well as it should."

"But if it means that much to them," he protested.

"Oh, no, Alex," I exclaimed. "Don't do this. You know you love the
place. I saw you the other night, cooking over the fire. It's the best
you've looked in a long time. The place is good for you: the sea air,
the quiet away from the city."

"But my friends, my life, are in Toronto," he said. "You know that
as much as I do. What would I do if I couldn't come into the shop every
day? You think I'm doing you a favor, but I'm not. I hated retirement
five minutes into it. I need the activity, the sense of being needed."

"Well, let's just say that we both benefit from having you in the
shop. I'm glad to hear it, but that's not the issue, Alex," I said. "If
you don't want to use it, you can always sell it, or rent it out for
some extra income, get yourself a little cottage closer to home or
whatever, but as Ryan says, Eamon Byrne really wanted you to have the
cottage, and those people have no business being so entirely selfish.
You saved his life, Alex, and he wanted to repay you in some way."

"Did you now?" Charles said turning to Alex. "I've often wondered.
Tell us about it."

Alex gave him a delicately edited version of Eamon's story, telling
him that Eamon had fallen off the pier in Singapore.

"Singapore!" Ryan exclaimed. "I love that place. I had the best
sweet and sour soup in the world in a little dive not far from the
Raffles Hotel. And the dim sum!" I smiled, remembering Charles's
description of Ryan as a gourmand. I looked over at Charles, and he was
smiling too.

"I know exactly where you found it!" Alex said, and the two were off
on a culinary tour of Singapore, then Hong Kong, then Shanghai. Charles
listened with real interest, and soon he and Alex too were trading
stories of places they'd been, and adventures they'd had. Charles, it
seemed, had not been to the manor born, as it were, and had worked very
hard to put himself through law school. There was a determination under
that cultured exterior that I found quite attractive.

After several minutes of armchair travel, Charles gently steered the
talk back to the subject at hand. "Now, Mr. Stewart," Charles said. "As
enjoyable as this conversation is, we'll need to get your direction on
the lawsuit. We will accede to your wishes, of course. If you do not
wish to keep Rose Cottage, then we will simply not contest the suit.
But Eamon Byrne felt quite strongly that you should have it. To that I
can personally attest. I had no idea why he felt that strongly, of
course, not having heard the story, but I discussed the Will with him
at some length, and there is absolutely no doubt in my mind as to his
intentions. And he was quite lucid, I can assure you."

"Would you be defending the Will, then?" Alex asked. He obviously
liked the two solicitors, and was coming around, much to my delight. I
couldn't stand the idea of the family taking the cottage away from him.

"We'll be the defendants, yes, but we will hire legal counsel to
represent us, a barrister for the court work," Charles said.

"Won't that be expensive?" Alex asked.

"It will, most likely, if the case proceeds to court, which as Ryan
has mentioned, we think may not happen. But you don't need to concern
yourself with that. Normally, the costs would come out of the estate,
not from you."

"All right then," Alex said. "If you think so, Lara?"

"I do, Alex," I said. "I think the Byrne family is just being mean,
that's all. They couldn't possibly be as desperate as they look."

"Are you with us, then?" Ryan asked.

"I suppose I am," Alex said. " I really do like that little place."

"Excellent!" Charles exclaimed. "Now, Ryan, I think you have
something to do out at Second Chance before we head back to Dublin?"

"I do, yes. It's one of the anomalies of this particular situation,"
he said, looking at me, "that while the family is suing the estate, and
therefore us as executors, we continue to represent Mrs. O'Connor in
some personal matters. Are you coming with me, Charles?"

Charles glanced at me. There was a slight question mark in his look.

"Perhaps not," he replied. "Perhaps… a drink?" he said looking at
me. "Ms. McClintoch, Mr. Stewart?"

"Sure," I said. How nice, I thought.

Charles went to the bar for drinks for the three of us, and we
chatted for a while, until we were interrupted by Malachy. "There you
are!" he exclaimed, looking at Alex. "We've been looking all over for
you. Don't you remember we're to get together at Tommy Fitzgerald's
pub?"

"My goodness!" Alex exclaimed. "I had no idea it was this late. Will
you excuse me, Lara? Charles?"

"Of course," we said in unison.

"I'll see he gets home," Malachy said. "Don't worry."

Charles smiled at me. "Could we have something to eat together, do
you think? It's a long drive back to Dublin. There's a very good fish
restaurant right down the street. I always try to have some seafood
when I'm here. It's so fresh. What do you think?"

I thought it was a very good idea, and I said so, and a few minutes
later we were sitting at a table in the window, as a waiter brought a
blackboard over with the day's catch listed.

"Champagne, I think," Charles said. "To start. A little celebration
of Mr. Stewart's decision."

Charles McCafferty was the kind of man I and my women friends tend
to make fun of, with old world manners, rushing ahead to open doors,
and choosing our food for us, as if we couldn't do it for ourselves.
For some reason, though, I found it all rather relaxing, not having to
think too much about anything, and just enjoying the very fine food and
wine that he picked. Ryan might have been the gourmand of the two, but
Charles was no slouch in knowing what was good to eat around the place.
He also gave me his undivided attention, something I found very
flattering. I'll flay myself tomorrow, I told myself, to make up for
this serious lapse in feminist ideology, but tonight, I think I'll just
sit back and enjoy it. I reminded him about the shop, though, lest he
think I was merely one of those ladies who lunch.

"I do recall that," he said. "I enjoyed showing you through our
offices immensely. Do you specialize in any particular period?"

I told him all about the place, my favorite subject, after all. It
was fun to talk about it. It reminded me of my early conversations with
Clive, when we were still dating, before we married and everything
turned sour. It was pleasant to share an interest with someone, to be
able to discuss everything in such detail with someone who was as
enthusiastic about the subject as I was. I still felt a little confused
about him, though. I couldn't tell whether he was really interested in
me or not. Nor could I decide if he was my kind of guy or not. We'd
flirt a little, then back off, both of us, I suppose, a little
ambivalent on the idea of a new romance. I had such a bad track record
where men were concerned, that the idea of starting a new relationship
with someone, particularly someone so far from home, was daunting to
say the least. I wondered if he felt the same.

I did find him attractive, though, no doubt about it. I found myself
wishing I'd had an arrangement of some kind with Jennifer, of the
college dorm variety, where a ribbon tied to the door handle meant Do
Not Enter. However, if we had that arrangement, I suppose it would have
to cut both ways, and I wasn't about to condone an intimate
relationship between Jennifer and Paddy.

At some point in the conversation, I had the feeling I was being
watched, not that this was unusual on this particular occasion. Charles
had a commanding presence and was rather better dressed than anyone
else in the place. And the bottle of champagne chilling in the ice
bucket had drawn more than a casual glance. This was different somehow.
I looked about me, and there, by the bar, was Rob. He had the strangest
expression on his face, part nonchalance, part… what? Jealousy? It
couldn't be! I looked again. Maybe, I thought. Well, good. I smiled at
Rob and then leaned forward toward Charles, who reached across and
grasped my fingers. I locked my hand with his. Rob turned back to the
bar and ordered another drink. Where was Maeve, I wondered.

No matter how the evening might have ended had we been alone, that
particular option didn't present itself. Just as we were finishing our
coffee, Ryan appeared. "Ah, there you are," he said. "Thought I might
find you here. What did you have? Sea bass? Sorry I missed it. I had
some awful Irish stew kind of thing out at Second Chance. Margaret made
it. I hope she finds a cook soon. Dinner there is not what it once was.

And that Deirdre! Kept dropping everything and clattered about. It's
a relief she left us, Charles. She'd be dumping tea in our clients'
laps more often than not."

"Why did she leave you?" I asked. "The way she was going on about
Second Chance the day she left, I thought she'd never come back."

"God knows," Ryan replies. "I certainly don't. But she did us a
favor."

"I think she didn't like Dublin," Charles replied.

"What's not to like?" Ryan said. "Speaking of which, what do you
say? Is it time to head back there, Charles?"

"Regrettably, yes," Charles said, kissing my hand. I looked up to
see Rob staring at me again. "Perhaps some other time, though?"

"That would be lovely," I said. "And thank you for helping Alex, and
for a very pleasant evening." The two men went outside to a waiting
Mercedes and soon pulled away, Ryan at the wheel. Both waved and smiled
at me as they left. When I looked around again, Rob was gone.

The mention of Deirdre reminded me that I was to see her the next
day. Something very important, she'd said. It was a little irritating,
I'd have to say. I'd planned another day of antique hunting to get some
more stuff for the store. But I resolved I'd wait for her, nonetheless.
Maybe she really would have something interesting to say.

Sometime after midnight, the phone in our room rang. It was Charles,
back in Dublin. "I just called to say good night," he said in that
lovely Irish lilt of his. "It's late, I know, but I wanted to hear your
voice again. I had a wonderful evening, although it was far too short."
"I did as well," I replied. Despite the fact that I'd told myself he
wasn't my type at all, I found I was pleased that he'd called.

"We'll see each other again. That's one of the benefits of being
sued by the Byrne family," he chuckled.

"Till then," I said, hanging up.

"Who was that?" Jennifer said drowsily.

"Charles McCafferty," I replied. "Go back to sleep."

"Dad said you were having dinner with one of those lawyers," she
said. "I think he's jealous."

"I'd think he'd be too busy with Maeve to be jealous of me," I said
tartly.

"I like you better than Maeve," she said.

"I didn't know this was a contest," I said. "Now go back to sleep!"

The next day, Deirdre didn't show up. After waiting for a couple of
hours, I called Second Chance.