The woman who’d worked here since time began and whose name he tried to conjure, Breda or Brenda, something like that was staring over at him. He bared the perfectly aligned teeth he’d spent a small fortune on in her direction.
Bronagh blinked, feeling warmed by the glow of his neon smile. Cormac was the first of the wedding guests to arrive at O’Mara’s. The guesthouse was at the sole disposal of family and friends for the next four nights. It had been no mean feat to ensure the window of time had been kept clear and it had all been for nothing. Sparks were sure to fly when he learned he’d had a wasted journey she thought, frantically swiping the telltale biscuit crumbs off her lap and getting to her feet. Her calves were sore from this morning’s stair climb. She’d tried to get out of it, telling Moira all bets were off until Aisling made an appearance in reception and confirmed she was still in the running. Moira was having none of it and had warned Bronagh, given Aisling’s lovesick state the odds were against her. Bronagh’s competitive streak had reared and bucked and she’d taken to those stairs as though she were entering into the Olympic stair climbing race. She’d earned herself a biscuit or two, she reassured herself, turning her attention to Cormac O’Mara.
She’d only met him a handful of times and each time she’d been struck by yer man’s resemblance, not to his late brother, God rest his soul, but to Elton John. She’d have loved to ask him if he could give her a few lines of Rocketman but had never summoned the nerve. She swept out from behind her desk, her hand extended, ‘Welcome home, Mr O’Mara. It’s grand to see you.’ The consummate professional.
‘Please, call me Cormac, Brandy.’ He returned her handshake briefly.
‘Bronagh,’ she corrected, wondering whether all those rings on his fingers had left an indentation on her palm. He smelt very nice too, for a man who’d just come off a long-haul flight, and she tried not to sniff too obviously. The scent of pine made a pleasant change from the Arpège and fried bacon. Cormac was too busy looking about the entrance of his childhood home to acknowledge his gaffe. She marvelled over him being short and well- padded where his brother had been tall and lanky. There were similarities too though in certain expressions and she wondered if Maureen felt her loss keenly all over again when she caught sight of them.
The door opened once more and the woman herself, windswept and hobbling like Quasi Modo, appeared with the last of Cormac’s designer bags. Pooh pranced in alongside her, all sugar and spice and all things nice. Bronagh eyeballed the poodle, she had the measure of him right enough. He was not to be trusted.
‘Jaysus wept,’ Maureen muttered, dropping the bag down next to the others. ‘Are you after moving back to Dublin, Cormac?’
‘Not a chance, Mo. LA is the land of sunshine. It’s been good to me whereas Ireland is the land of—’
‘Rainbows,’ Maureen stated firmly.
Bronagh raised an eyebrow. Mo indeed.
Cormac had not been about to say the country where he’d grown up was the land of rainbows but he swallowed his words. There was nothing to be gained by allowing his acerbic tongue to get the better of him and besides he was fond of Mo, a name he’d called her from the get-go. It was for this reason he’d decided to behave himself and as such he changed the subject. ‘The old place is looking good. I hope you’ll be giving me the grand tour.’
‘Of course I will, and this,’ Maureen arced her hand in a sweeping movement, ‘could have all been yours, Cormac, if you hadn’t of been so desperate to get on the boat and leave us all behind.’
Bronagh’s eyes widened at the thought of this flamboyant man at the helm of the guesthouse. She wondered if he knew Elton – he did live in Los Angeles after all. Sure, they were always rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous out there. Patrick was after telling her he knew yer man, Cruise. They frequented the same juice bar. She wondered if Patrick, Cindy and Cormac all went to the same dentist.
‘A decision that worked out well for us all.’
‘That it did.’
They smiled at each other and Pooh nuzzled up next to this new member of his family.
‘He likes you.’ Maureen was pleased. Cormac hadn’t made a fuss like Roisin over sitting in the back of the car when she’d picked him up from the airport. He said he was used to it. Apparently, he had a driver over there in Los Angeles.
‘Where’s the bride-to-be? I thought she’d be here to greet me, given you’ve officially handed over the baton, Mo.’ Cormac pouted. He was a little put out. He’d come a long way after all and the least his middle niece could do was be here when he arrived.
‘Erm, Aisling’s upstairs. Moira’s at college and said to tell you she’s looking forward to seeing you.’ She pursed her lips knowing full well Moira was hoping her fashion-king uncle had brought gifts from the Land of Plenty with him. ‘Patrick and Cindy are due in the day before the erm, ah, the erm wedding because Cindy had a bra commercial to film and Roisin’s arriving from London with young Noah tomorrow.’ She’d filled Roisin in on the unfolding drama of Aisling and Quinn but had told her she should still come because
