White knuckled, Mick pulls out the chair, sits down, and begins.
True to his word, Niall gives Jason a lift into town. “So you weren’t able to take care of everything this morning when you walked to town?” Niall asks.
“The liquor store doesn’t open until ten. I’d like to go to the one out on Old Fairhaven Parkway.”
“I’ve always prided myself on the selection we offer at The Ink Well.” Niall smiles. A question in his voice.
“You have a fine selection. I’d just like to have my own stash, if you know what I me.” He gives Niall a conspiratorial wink. “By the way, I met your brother at the creperie this morning.”
“Yes. Paddy called to say he’d met you.”
This town may be dead, but the gossip line is very much alive, Jason thinks.
Niall pulls into a parking space in front of the liquor store.
“This won’t take long,” Jason says.
Niall reviews his shopping list while waiting in the car. Lost in the task, he doesn’t see Jason approach until he opens the back passenger door and places two brown paper sacks on the floor behind the front passenger seat.
“Well, that’s done. Where to next?” Jason asks. “Will it take long?”
“Are you in a hurry?”
Jason works to keep the edge out of his voice. “I’m just eager to get back. I’m expecting my manuscript to arrive today, and I’m anxious to get started on it.”
Niall pulls into a parking space at the butcher shop. “It’ll just be a few minutes.”
When he returns a short time later, Jason slips a thin, silver flask into his pocket.
“I’m sorry, but it’s illegal to have an open container in the vehicle.”
“It’s just a few miles back to Pines & Quill,” Jason says. “We’ll be fine.”
Seldom demanding, rarely confrontational, but a man who can hold his own, Niall says, “You can walk with what’s open, and I’ll drive with what’s closed and put it on your front porch.” His tone brooks no room for discussion.
“Well fine.” Jason’s voice has a petulant ring to it. After removing the sack with the open bottle, Jason raises it with a huff. “Cheers!” He turns away.
Niall heads home with an unaccustomed tight expression on his face.
“The goddamned goody two shoes,” Jason grumbles. “What’s a couple of miles with an open container? I do it all the time.”
I’m going to tell Libby what just happened when I get home. She may well send Jason packing, and rightly so. We’d never keep a guest at the expense of others.
After refrigerating the items from the butcher shop, he takes Jason’s brown bag to Thoreau cottage and deposits it on the front porch. On his return, Niall finds Libby in the circular drive in front of the main house signing for a UPS package.
“Hey, Niall. How are you?” the driver asks.
“I’m great, Tim. How’s Mary? She’s due any day now, isn’t she?”
“She sure is.” His chest puffs out a little more with soon-to-be-father pride.
“Keep us posted. And please give our best to Mary.”
“I sure will.” Tim waves as the truck follows the circular drive, then melts into the tree trunks in the distance.
Niall lifts his hands to Libby’s dark brown hair and strokes it. He tucks a loose mahogany strand behind her ear, releasing a subtle and feminine fragrance of white jasmine, orange blossom, and a hint of sandalwood—a signature blend she created years ago.
His hands move down her back, homing in on the precise spot. His thumbs begin a circular motion, kneading the muscles on each side of her spine until they loosen and relax, bringing a helpless moan of relief from Libby.
“I’m sorry for what happened this morning,” Niall says.
Unexpected laughter erupts from Libby. “You were right. Mick’s love life is none of my business.” She smiles into his smoky-blue eyes.
After Niall relays what happened in town with Jason, they look at each other. Libby’s hackles rise, and her eyes transform to a glacial shade of blue, turbulent with storm clouds. She recognizes their commonality of thought. “We need to send him packing, but before we do, let’s talk with Mick.”
Just then, Jason rounds the bend and staggers toward them. “Did my packages come?” He enunciates the words to cover his slur.
“Yes, they just arrived,” Libby says, handing them to him.
Jason gives them a plastic smile and tucks a package under each arm.
“We know you’re anxious to get started, so we won’t keep you,” Libby says.
“I left your bag on the front porch of Thoreau. We’ll see you at six o’clock for dinner.”
Jason turns and walks toward his cottage. When he pauses to look back, he sees Niall and Libby watching his retreat.
He ignores the brown paper bag on the front porch of Thoreau and walks through the door with a single focus. The contents of his packages.
After releasing the tape with his pocketknife, he opens the first box and pulls back the wrapping to reveal his baby. His Precious. A 9mm Beretta Storm with a blued steel finish.
Gollum-like, Jason caresses its muzzle.
CHAPTER 10
“Writing is about hypnotizing yourself into believing in yourself, getting some work done, then un-hypnotizing yourself and going over the material coldly.”
—ANNE LAMOTT
Emma inhales deeply. The air at Pines & Quill smells of blooms and earth. A ground squirrel darts toward the pathway and then back into cover. The sky blushes with the sinking sun. It’s a perfect evening. She’s the first person to arrive at the main house for dinner. Her outfit is a patterned tunic of multi-colored paisley. Its hem sweeps longer in the back, although seated, it’s unlikely that anyone will see that artful detail. Paired with black leggings and matching sandals, she makes a beautiful picture.
Before ringing the doorbell, Emma notices its thoughtful placement—within easy reach for someone sitting in a wheelchair. The MacCullough’s have anticipated everything.
Just then, Fran joins her.
“You look so nice,” Emma says, admiring the lavender tailored shirt that Fran has softened by leaving the shirttail hem untucked over tan slacks.
“Thank
