“I’m a little speechless,” she said. “But thrilled for you and…the opportunity. Thank you for letting me know.”
“Let’s talk after you’ve had a chance to let it sink in. But be warned, you should be getting that call any day now.”
“Okay, I’ll be ready. Thank you.” After another moment, she hung up and sat perfectly still except for the hand she moved over Judah’s head, holding his gaze. “What am I going to do, J?” she whispered. “What the hell am I going to do?”
If she took the job, would Declan be willing to give up his dream? Of course he would. He’d do anything for her. But would that make him happy? Would it make her happy? And what would be best for a baby? Would they want to leave the family and Bitter Bark and—
Declan opened the bathroom door, wearing nothing but boxers. “Done?” he asked around the toothbrush in his mouth.
She stared at him. “Yeah.”
He frowned and slipped the toothbrush out. “You okay?”
“I’m…fine. Yeah. Are you coming back to bed?”
He held up one finger, then turned, and she heard the water running in the sink. He returned and put both arms around Judah. “Down you go, bud. This bed belongs to me. And this woman is…” He set the dog in his own bed, then turned to her. “Upset.”
She blinked at him, a little surprised that he could figure that out so easily.
“No, I’m not,” she said quickly. She wasn’t ready to have this discussion. Because she imagined there wouldn’t be a discussion, that Declan would immediately offer to give up his job for her. Was that what she wanted?
She didn’t know. She didn’t know what she wanted at all. Until he knelt on the bed and kissed her, tasting like peppermint toothpaste and possibilities.
At least she knew she wanted…that.
And for right this minute, that was all she wanted.
Chapter Twenty-five
“Would you beautiful ladies like an escort?” Declan held out both arms, one for each of the well-dressed grandmothers who’d arrived just as the Living Museum party was starting to come alive. “I can take you on the grand tour before the crowds arrive.”
“Or we can stand here and gawk, lad.” Gramma Finnie, decked out in a silver dress with more ruffles than he’d ever seen her in, paused in the entryway and looked around. “’Tis magnificent.”
“Didn’t Evie do a great job?” he asked. “Each open room represents a different era over the last hundred and twenty years. You’re standing in the Roaring Twenties right now.”
Yiayia stretched her neck and looked straight up. “And I see the chandelier was cleaned for the first time since the Roaring Twenties.”
He laughed. “Please, I had to fight with the Historical Society not to change it back to an oil-burning lamp for the night. They actually suggested that. To a firefighter.”
He looked from one to the other, then settled on his own grandmother, dying to get an answer to a question that had been haunting him for weeks. “So, Finola Kilcannon, how did you get it?”
She drew back and raised a white brow, feigning innocence.
“Oh, come on,” he said. “I know it was you who hid that card in the piano keys.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. “Sounds like Gloriana House has a wee leprechaun about the place.”
He snorted and looked at Yiayia, who looked a little too proud of herself.
“A leprechaun named Agnes Santorini?” he guessed, making them both laugh and give it away.
“Gramma, how did you even get it?” he asked. “I thought it was lost.”
She put a hand on his arm. “You don’t remember the morning, lad. You dropped your bag on the lawn, and when you went into the house, I gathered it, and some of your belongings fell out. I happened to glance down and read the words.”
“My promises.”
“I tucked it away, for the right time. You know the Irish say, ‘Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, but love leaves a memory no one can steal.’” She leaned her head against his shoulder. “I knew you had to handle your heartache before you were ready for love.”
“How did you know I’m ready now?” he asked, curious how his grandmother knew him better than he knew himself.
“I was in the waiting room the day Evie performed surgery on Rusty.”
He dug into his memory banks. He’d been vaguely aware that the room was crowded with Mahoneys and Kilcannons. And one beautiful neurologist.
“I saw the look that passed between the two o’ ye.” Gramma’s voice grew low and her brogue thick. “And then Darcy said a couple of weeks ago that she’d seen Evie in town, and we cooked up the excuse we needed.”
“Why not give the card to me if you thought I needed a push?” he asked.
“Good question,” Yiayia interjected, hanging on every word of the conversation. “That was exactly what I wanted to know. But this one had me sneaking around this house, looking for a hiding place.”
“I felt Evie should find it,” Gramma Finnie said. “I hoped it would have her come to you because, honestly, I didn’t think anything would get you out of your ways.”
“But…the croissant run? Were you covering all your bases?”
She chuckled. “Truth be told, while Agnes was planting that in the piano, I had a conversation with Max, and we decided to help things along with a little Sunday morning visit to the bakery. There was always the chance Evie wouldn’t take the bait.”
“That’s all you and Max discussed?” he pressed.
“Well, the wedding plans, of course.” She adjusted her bifocals. “And he was yammering about great-grandchildren, but sweet Saint Patrick, Declan, I’m not that much of a busybody.”
“He is,” he said on a laugh.
“That’s part of his charm,” Yiayia said, gesturing toward the stairs. “And so is the fact that he needs an assist
