Page 32 of Against Ebony Irish Seas

Uh-oh. Not the wholebless your heartthing. Bets wanted to storm over to the woman’s desk, push her aside, and help herself to the computer. Only she had an inkling… There wasn’t another permit application they needed to fill out. It had obviously been the right one all along.

Donal clapped Linc on the back and said, “I’ll talk to a few of my old friends in Watertown and get this sorted out. Would you mind writing down the address of where Linc’s mobile home is being stored? He has some possessions in there that mean the world to him.”

Linc patted his heart. “Drawings from my baby girl when she was only so high.”

“I’m sorry but I wasn’t given the address,” she said hesitantly. “That’s with another contractor.”

“And who’s that, sugar?” Linc asked, tucking his hand on his hip as if he had all day.

His patience blew her mind. She was going to lose it in a second if they didn’t leave.

“Again, I don’t have that information,” the woman said, clown smile firmly in place. “I only knew about the violation.”

“Of course,” Linc said, nodding his head. “Well, we’ll get it all sorted out. I’d hate for my baby girl to hear I’ve temporarily lost her childhood artwork. You have a nice day, dear. I hope you get your printer fixed real soon.”

They walked sedately to the gold-rimmed elevator and went down one floor to the equally glitzy lobby. She fought irritation at Linc and Donal’s easy pace as they walked to Linc’s Range Rover.

The minute the car doors closed, she let out a low shriek as Linc took her hand comfortingly.

“Yes,” Donal said darkly from the back seat. “That.”

“Did you see his rings?” She twisted in her seat. “Every finger! It was disgusting.”

“Not as disgusting as how swollen his fingers were,” Donal replied. “I can tell you one thing: they aren’t swollen from him working.”

“Oh, he’s working all right,” Bets said, her face heating as she fumed. “It’s called a shakedown. Extortion—”

“Seems so,” Linc said, starting the car and driving off. “Donal, I’ve been meaning to ask you how to say fuck in Gaelic. I figure I’m going to be using it a lot after meeting with Mr. Goldfinger in there, and I’d like to mix it up every once in a while.”

“Oh, we have a ton of words, but you might likedia ár sábháil!”

“It means ‘fucking hell,’” Bets told Linc. “I have three boys.”

Linc pointed to the office supply shop as they drove by and muttered, “Dia ár sábháil!”

Bets repeated the phrase while a bloom of dark thoughts swirled in the car.

The arts center and all their plans were in real trouble.

CHAPTEREIGHT

The first day of school might be the biggest event of the year.

Give Sophie a birthday or a Christmas holiday with her daughter any day. She could throw a party and shower her daughter with affection and fun.

But leave her alone at a new school in a new country after kissing her sweet little unsure face?

That destroyed her.

Even with Jamie crouching beside her daughter, his hand on her little shoulder, introducing her to a trio of her new classmates. These girls, Jamie had told Greta, were some of the ones who’d made her welcome cards. Her daughter gave them a shy smile and thanked them all.

Sophie grabbed on to that smile like it was a life preserver. Greta was going to be fine, she told herself. Her shyness would melt as the days went on. Jamie would watch over her.

She gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile, wishing she could return to the bliss she’d felt on their date Saturday night. But the bliss was gone, and this gut-wrenching mommy moment was one she was going to remember for a long time.

“Would you like to see your desk?” Jamie asked Greta.

Her nod was hesitant.

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