Page 36 of Angel's Share

“My mom was from Georgia,” she said as she tumbled the small butter knife through her fingers, her voice muted. “Dad was from California. I grew up out here, but certain words of hers stuck.”

That was more of her past than she owed any of them at this point, and Aidan didn’t want to linger there either, especially when it so clearly darkened her mood. Catching a whiff of the potatoes, he knew the perfect segue to cheer her up. “My brother Danny is like that,” he said. “I was twelve when we moved from Ireland to California, but he was just a toddler. He grew up here, but being around us and our parents, he uses certain words and pronounces them no way a native Californian would.”

Curiosity brightened her big brown eyes. “Like what?”

Grinning, he withdrew his phone and dialed his brother.

“Hey, big bro,” Danny answered, practically shouting over shipyard noises in the background. “I’ll be there Thursday morning.”

“Good,” Aidan said. “But I wasn’t calling about that. Need you to do me a quick favor.”

“What?”

“What’s Dad’s favorite dish?”

“Colcannon,” he answered immediately, a touch of the brogue in his voice that was rarely ever there.

Bev laughed, eyes wide. “No fucking way. Say it again.”

“Colcannon.”

“That’s wild.”

Across the table, Aidan laughed, and when Danny spoke, he could hear the smile in his brother’s voice too. “You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”

“Just a demonstration on accents,” Aidan said. “Love you, baby bro.”

“Love you too. See you tomorrow. Gotta run.” The tail end of his sign-off was muffled by a blasting foghorn, which he thankfully silenced by ending the call.

“Your family’s tight?” She could have simply made the observation, as most folks did. The Talleys didn’t hide their affections for one another; they’d learned not to when the Troubles had stolen their oldest sibling. But Bev had phrased her observation as a question, one Aidan sensed was part curiosity, part caution.

“Yes, we’re close,” he said. “But not to the exclusion of new family members.” He held her gaze that came alive with hope. “We have a way of collecting strays. Ask Danny’s wife or Jamie’s or my best friends sometime.”

Her small nod felt like one of Aidan’s greatest victories.

Another of those victories walked through the balcony door with a piping hot bird teetering on a beer can surrounded by vegetables in the cast iron skillet he carried between mitts.

Angel was on his heels, heaving a beleaguered “Finally,” which earned him a shoulder swat from his mother.

“You act like I don’t feed you,” she said.

Aidan knew that not to be true now, even if the thought had crossed his mind early on, given Angel’s baggy clothes and lanky frame. The latter was just biology—the boy had eaten regularly each day, not like he was starving, not like he was forcing himself—and the former just seemed to be his preference.

Angel plopped into the chair beside Bev, Izzy the chair on the other side of her. Her light brown eyes glanced up at Aidan, and before the words were out, Aidan knew what she was going to say. Her “You couldn’t just make regular potatoes?” was muffled by laughter as he tossed a dishtowel across the table at her.

“That’s what I said!” Bev concurred, and that earned her a balled-up napkin, everyone laughing louder.

Jamie appeared beside Aidan, veggies in a bowl he set on the table. “I’ll eat your cabbage potatoes, baby.” He kissed his cheek, then rotated back to the island to finish breaking down the chicken. “Any word from Matt or Rick?” he asked when Aidan joined him.

Aidan shook his head. “Maybe the traffic to County was bad.” At his arraignment today, White had been remanded to County lockup. Matt and Rick were headed there this evening to question him about Pudge, the Martinos, and whomever else he was working with.

Jamie finished with the chicken and brought the platter of crispy-skinned goodness to the table. They’d all just finished cleaning their plates, Aidan chewing through his last juicy bite, when a knock sounded at the door.

Jamie started to rise, but Aidan beat him to it, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Stay, I’ve got it. Ask Izzy about the first time she tried colcannon.”

Translation: Keep them distracted.

Jamie read him loud and clear, his “I gotta hear this” instantly engaging.

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