can still get it up, that’s all,” Moira finished.
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
