Page 38 of After Indigo Irish Nights
She decided to pivot. “I know you’re on the board for the arts center, but aren’t you being a little heavy-handed, suggesting something like this?”
His brow knit, although a smile crossed his face. “Heavy-handed I might be, but I ran my plan by both Bets and Donal before I appeared on your doorstep this morning. I caught Donal before he left, seeing as I’m staying at his house. And Bets is usually an early riser. I texted her. She called me. She agreed in two minutes flat.”
Two minutes was all it had taken to possibly change her life. Still, she tried to stay cool. “I should have been the first to hear about it.”
His snort told her what he thought of that. “I got to thinking about all this when I was in bed last night. We need something tangible to sell to the council people, something that will be a tourist draw. The museum—which the board will support, I think—will take time. We need more artists to come through and donate pieces. Although we might reserve a wing of the museum to showcase a temporary show from time to time. Yes, that’s it.”
She pushed her coffee aside. “My God. You didn’t retire. You changed careers.”
He lifted a shoulder. “It seems a natural progression. Ellie’s interest in the arts is one I’ve always shared with her. My whole career, I gave to the arts. Now I’m going to build the framework here in Caisleán with these great people whom I’ve come to respect and love. Plus, Ellie is here and, at some point, my grandbabies. Why the hell else wouldn’t I make this my new home?”
They were all good points. “Linc, I came here on a four-month artist residency with the intention of returning home in early August before the beaches closed for swimming.”
“Your pop doesn’t want you to lose opportunities because of them,” he said softly.
She set down her coffee. “You talked to my pop about this?”
“I didn’t, which I’d hope you would know.” When he leaned forward, his chair gave a terrible creak, which had him easing gently back again. “He brought it up to me in the O’Connor kitchen after he ran out for Dunks coffee and Southie Scramblers, the morning after I beat your brother at arm wrestling.”
The mention of the breakfast sandwich loaded with eggs, bacon, sausage, onions, peppers, and cheese shouldn’t have made her homesick, but it did, as much as knowing that her pop had told Linc something he’d never told her. The O’Connor men were terrible at expressing their feelings.
“I’m sorry. That was unfair. What did he say?”
He gave a soft smile. “He said Ellie had found her way and her happiness here in Ireland. He wanted the same for you. You know how much he loves the old neighborhood, but he thinks you’ve gone as far as you can there. You know everyone, he said, and that has its limits. He wanted me to give you this. He thought it would help you understand.”
Linc reached into his pants pocket and pulled out something on a chain. Her emotions scattered as she beheld the simple silver Claddagh ring her father had given her mother.
“My pop worked extra shifts at the salvage yard to buy that for my mom,” she said, taking it. “They were sixteen when he asked her to go steady with him. They married at eighteen and the rest is history.”
“Your pop loves you—like I love my Ellie. He and I understand each other, and while we’ve had different lives, we want the same thing for both of you girls. Happiness. Family. A man who’ll love you like you deserve. Your pop thinks you’ll find all that herein magical Ireland,as he called it. To do that, you need to stay longer. He said he ‘felt’ it while he was in church one morning lighting a candle for you. His words.”
The smell of oranges wrapped around her, making her sit up straighter in her chair. Goose bumps broke out over her skin as she swept her gaze through the room. Surely Sorcha wasn’t involved… Pop went to church faithfully and had what he called “moments of deep knowing.” Said it was probably the Irish in him. Sometimes he thought it was their mother, helping from heaven. Kathleen had liked to believe their mother still helped them. It was a comfort. But this felt different.
“You going to faint?” Linc asked, taking her hand and patting it in brisk taps. “I didn’t think that’s how you were going to react, but what the hell do I know.”
“I’m not going to faint.” Her head was fuzzy, though, even though she didn’t see that infernal ghost. She was so not going to ask Sorcha if she’d been involved.
He rose and put a steady hand on her shoulder. “I’ll leave you to kick it around. How does a few days sound? We’d like to start using it on the councilmen we hope to influence at the upcoming fights.”
She had to laugh, although she wasn’t sure it was funny. “That’s so like you, Linc. Deadlines and whatnot.”
“I might talk slow but I’m not one to dawdle.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “See you later, sugar.”
“Sometimes you’re so sweet, I’d swear you’d make a person’s teeth fall out.”
He gave a hearty laugh. “Or give ’em cavities. Funny thing about sweets though, and something to remember… People don’t mind the prospect of their teeth falling out when the goodies are so delicious along the way. I must remember to tell that to Bets. Have a good one, honey.”
A good one, huh? She picked up her coffee and kicked her feet up on the table, her eyes on her mother’s necklace, as he let himself out.
“He’s good craic, isn’t he?” Sorcha said, appearing in the chair he’d vacated.
Kathleen jumped and almost fell backward, but she managed to catch the end of the table. “Stop doing that!”
“You sound as vexed as Declan.” She chuckled, completely unrepentant. “Your pop seems to know the way the winds are blowing, doesn’t he?”
She glared at the ghost. Oh, what the hell? “Did you—?”
“Your father has his own way of knowing things, doesn’t he?”
