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Patrick set his cup down, shaking his head, eyes lowered. Then he stared at them both across the table. “Well, all that from the woman who nearly attacked a stranger in the bar last night.”
“Michael’s not a stranger,” Moira protested.
“Hey, we’ve never met him before.”
“I know him very well.”
“Apparently so. What, you met him after the Christmas holidays? That doesn’t exactly make you eligible for a diamond anniversary band.”
“Cute,” she told Patrick.
“Well, she probably only did it because of Danny,” Colleen said, yawning.
Moira glared at her sister. “Hey, whose side are you on here?”
Colleen instantly looked sheepish. “Sorry.”
“You’re not supposed to be taking sides against me to begin with,” Patrick protested.
“Ah, now, are the girls beating up on you again, Patrick?” their mother asked, sweeping into the kitchen from the hallway. “Shame on you, the both of you. Now, don’t I spend half my life reminding you that—”
“That we’re all the greatest gifts you ever gave to any one of us,” the three of them said in unison, creating an outbreak of laughter around the table.
Katy shook her head. “One day you’ll know the truth of it. When the world is against you, when friends have failed you, you always have your family.”
“Oh, Mum,” Moira said, rising and walking to her brother to give his shoulders a hug—and his arm a pinch. “I adore my big brother. Honestly.”
“And me, too, of course,” Colleen said.
“And you, Patrick?” Katy demanded of him firmly.
“And me?” Patrick asked, grinning at Moira. “Why, my sisters are the light of my life. Though there is that other person. My wife. Oh, and my kids, bless the little demons. My life is just one big radiant ray of light.”
“Enough of that,” Katy said with a grin. “Moira, move back a bit. Patrick, scooch in your chair. The children are awake—they’ll be out for breakfast any minute now. Let me get the eggs going. Girls, would you give me a hand?”
“Girls?” Colleen asked.
“Aye?” Katy asked, puzzled.
Moira slipped an arm around her mother. “Mum, what she’s saying is that you’re being sexist. Patrick can help out just as well.”
“After all, you’re cooking for his children.”
“Well, now, Patrick can’t help out,” Katy said.
“And why is that?” Colleen asked.
“Because he’s the most useless human being in a kitchen I’ve ever seen. Granny Jon says that he’s the only person she’s ever met who’s incapable of boiling a pot of water.”
“He only pretends he can’t cook,” Moira said.
“To get out of the work,” Colleen explained.
“Now, the lot of you!” Katy said indignantly.
“Just kidding, Mum,” Moira said. “I’ll get the bacon.”
“The bottom batch, please. The lean stuff at the top from McDonnell’s is for the bacon and cabbage we’re having tonight.”
“Bacon and cabbage,” Moira murmured.
“And colcannon,” Katy said. “And some broccoli and spinach, because they’re good for your father’s heart. Moira Kathleen, I need the oatmeal, as well. Your dad has taken to getting it down plain every morning, for his cholesterol.”
Moira brought out the requested items from the refrigerator, then got the oatmeal from the cabinet. She looked at her mother. “That’s it. We’ll cook. For the show, we’ll let you take over, and we’ll videotape your preparation of the Saint Patrick’s Day meal.”
“We’re not having bacon and cabbage for Saint Patrick’s Day, we’ll be having a roast,” Katy said.
“Mum,” Moira groaned. “I don’t care what we’re really having on Saint Patrick’s Day. Bacon and cabbage is a traditional Irish meal. It will be a terrific segment for the show.”
“Oh, now, daughter, I’m not good on a camera,” Katy protested.
“Can we put Patrick in an apron?” Colleen asked hopefully.
“Not on your life,” Patrick protested.
“Oh, yeah, great. Let him be traditionally Irish by drinking beer and playing with the band,” Colleen teased.
“You know, it’s just one of those things,” Patrick said. “I can wear a suit well, which is good for an attorney. I look pretty good in hats. Aprons…I just don’t seem to have the right build.”
“We won’t film you in an apron,” Moira said. “Since you can’t cook, you can do the dishes when we’re done.”
“I’ve got an appointment this morning,” Patrick protested.
“I bet he just thought it up,” Colleen said.
“Do you really have an appointment?” Katy asked him.
Before he could answer, there was a tap on the inner door. Moira felt an inexplicable wave of tension instantly tighten her muscles.
Her mother and sister had turned toward the sound. Only Patrick was looking at her.
“So, it is Danny,” he said softly.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she murmured. “Should I get it?” she asked her mother.
“No, it’s just Danny, at this hour,” Katy said. “Come in, Dan!” she called.
“I locked it last night when I came up,” Moira said.
“Danny has a key, of course,” her mother replied impatiently.
She heard the key twisting in the lock even as her mother spoke.
She wondered why it bothered her so much that he had a key. To her home. No, not her home, her parents’ home.
And he had always been welcome here.
He walked in, freshly showered and scrubbed, as evidenced by the dampness that remained in his combed hair and gleamed on newly shaven cheeks. He was wearing jeans and a gold knit sweater beneath a casual leather jacket. She had to admit that he looked good. A bit of age had given his natural ease a slightly weathered and dignified look. He wasn’t as handsome a man as Michael, she thought, almost analytically, and only partially defensively. Michael had classic good looks. Pitch dark hair, striking blue eyes and a clean-cut face. Daniel was craggier. His chin a bit squarer, cheeks leaner, features more jagged. He had good eyes, though. A strange shade of hazel that made them amber at times, almost gold at others. He saw her studying him but only smiled, addressing her mother.
“I could smell Katy Kelly’s coffee way down in my room,” he told her, slipping his arms around her waist affectionately and kissing her cheek.
“There’s a coffeepot behind the bar,” Moira said rather sharply. Patrick looked at her. She widened her eyes. “How else would we make Irish coffee?”
“I think we’re all aware that there’s a coffeepot behind the bar,” her brother said.
“I was merely suggesting—” She began.
“Ah, but my coffee would never be as good as Katy’s,” Danny interrupted.
“And you’d not be wanting to have it alone,” Katy said firmly. “You’ve been up here every morning, and now the girls are here, as well. Naturally you want to spend time together.” Katy said the last casually, but sincerely.
“Of course we want to spend time with him. He’s like another older brother. A nice one,” Colleen teased.
Patrick groaned audibly.
“Just like a brother,” Moira said sweetly.
Danny had poured coffee and taken a seat next to Patrick. “Sibling torture this morning, eh?”
“Tell me, would you wear an apron so that your sister could humiliate you on national television?” Patrick asked.
“It’s just a cable show,” Moira murmured.
“A highly rated cable show,” Patrick said. “Well?”
For a moment, as Danny stared at her, Moira thought that his face had hardened strangely with anger. “I don’t have a sister,” he said.
“But you’re just like a nicer older brother,” Patrick reminded him.
“Oh, right. Well, what does the apron look like?” Danny asked, and the casual conviviality was back in his voice.
“I’m sure Mum has one with a leprechaun on it somewhere,” Colleen said.
“No one has to wear an apron!” Moira protested.
“Right. We’ll cook neatly,” Danny said.
“I didn’t say anyone but Mum needed to be in the show,” Moira reminded them.
“That’s right. The long-suffering siblings get to wash dishes offstage,” Patrick said.
“Hey,” Colleen protested, “I’ve got the kind of face they say can launch a thousand ships.”
“Naturally you’re invited to cook with us on camera,” Moira told her sister.
“Thanks. I’ll have to check with my agent.”
“Colleen Mary!” Katy said indignantly.
“Just kidding, Mum.”
“That is a face that could launch a thousand ships—sis,” Danny told Colleen. “Congratulations. I’m seeing it more and more every day now.”
“Really, Danny?” Colleen asked, her voice a little anxious. For a moment Moira reflected that her sister was really just a nice kid. She was doing exceptionally well, yet she was still amazed that people really thought her looks worthy of attention. She had managed to develop enough confidence to go forward and retain enough humility to remain grounded.
“Really. And I’ve heard from Patrick and your folks that there’s a budding romance in the west?”
“Just budding,” Katy said firmly. “So my daughter tells me.”
“Absolutely just budding,” Colleen said, laughing. “Mum, I’d never get serious without bringing the poor guy home first and making sure he had the stamina for a real relationship.”
Patrick looked at his sister without the twitch of a smile. “Um, stamina?”
“He’s a nice guy?” Danny asked. “Nothing else would do for my, uh, baby sister.”
“The nicest. Hey, you come to California now and then. Maybe you’ll be out there soon. I’d love for you to meet him.”
“Dan can size him up for you just like that,” Patrick told her.
“Colleen has a good head on her shoulders. I’m sure he’s a fine fellow,” Danny said. “Now, as to Moira…”
“Moira and her Michael,” Katy said.
“He’s great, Mum, and you know it,” Moira said.
“He does seem decent,” Patrick acknowledged.
“He’s a hunk,” Colleen said decisively.
“Beady eyes,” Danny said, shaking his head.
“Oh, God, that again,” Moira said irritably.
“Well, I think his eyes are fine,” Katy said thoughtfully, taking the comment entirely literally.
“Look again—they’re beady,” Danny said, staring at Moira.
“Fine, I’ll take another really good look at the man, Danny,” Katy said, setting strips of bacon into a huge frying pan with incredible precision, getting more bacon into the pan than Moira would have thought possible. “But really, he’s courteous, and very handsome. And he does adore Moira.”
