Page 313 of Lodestar

“She can.”

“Isn’t it polite to tell people when you’re putting them on speaker?”

“It is, but we’re among family, aren’t we?”

Ma scoffed. “You’re rude. I’m sure I didn’t raise you to be this rude.”

“I think you’ll find you did,” I mocked. “Anyway, Ma, meet Star. Star meet Lena.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Lena,” Star drawled, crossing her eyes at me as she said the words.

“Yes, a pleasure to meet you too, Star. Is that a nickname?”

“No. It’s on my birth certificate.”

“Interesting.”

She made it sound like her father had called her Morticia.

“Anyway, Ma, I’ll get looking for some properties that I think you’ll like in the city. You want to be in Hell’s Kitchen, right?”

“Yes.” She hesitated, and I knew she was embarrassed because she thought Star could listen in. “Maybe somewhere in one of your buildings?”

“We have all the penthouses,” I pointed out. "Apart from Aidan."

“Your father handed those out like they were play toys. I’m fine with a floor in the middle of the building.”

“You’d be downsizing by a lot. Wouldn’t you want some outdoor space?”

“I can manage, son,” she drawled.

“How many bedrooms? Or will you be sharing with Uncle Paddy?”

“Conor Nathan O’Donnelly!” she gasped as I rocked my chair back and laughed silently. “How could you ask me such a thing with your father so recently passed?”

“Just figured you two were getting cozy.”

“Cozy is one thing—he’s very like your father in some things but far more relaxed.”

I pulled a face. “I didn’t need to know about your and Da’s sex life.”

When she released a second, sharper gasp, I half-expected her to hang up the phone on me. “Conor, you should wash your mouth out with soap.”

“Nah, that would taste bad.”

Ma huffed. “I apologize, Star. I wish I could say that he isn’t always like this, but I’m sure if you agreed to marry him, you know that’s a lie, and Our Lady wouldn’t approve of that.”

“She wouldn’t approve of you getting with Uncle Paddy either. Out of wedlock, that is,” I said, tongue-in-cheek.

“I’m going before you manage to blaspheme St. Anthony too.”

“St. Anthony? What did you lose?”

“Your father, of course!”

“Wasn’t he the patron saint of lostthings?”

“What’s your father if not that!” She harrumphed. “Hopefully I don’t see you on Sunday and it’ll give you a few weeks togrow up!”

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