I caught my breath.
Mrs. Mulroney took a long swig of her champagne. In fact, shegulped down the entire flute before saying, “Yep. I did it. I sold the shop.”
“You what?”
“I signed the paperwork this morning.” She gave a sad little smile. “It’s done.”
I blinked. I’d known it was on the cards, but hearing it said out loud was something of a shock. It was like finding out your childhood home was about to be bulldozed and turned into a casino.
“I thought I’d have more time to…” I said quietly.
“To what?”
“Say goodbye.”
She looked at me for a long moment, then set her empty glass down with finality.
“Matthew,” she said firmly. “You’re not saying goodbye tome.”
I glanced at her. “No?”
“Mary, Mother of God, no.” She waved a hand like I’d suggested she move to the moon. “In fact, now that I’m footloose and fancy-free, and given your grand exciting news, well… I’ve suddenly decided that perhaps it’s time for me to broaden my horizons.”
My eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What horizon are you talking about… exactly?”
“The one to the west. Across the Pacific. I’ve always fancied the thought of wearing a grass skirt and a coconut bikini.”
I stared at her. “Oh no. You arenotserious.”
She folded her arms. “I’m as serious as Pope Benedict on a sugar low.”
“You decided this just now?”
“Well, yes. But the timing is so serendipitous, who could ignore the signs?”
“This is not serendipity. This is you gate-crashing your way to Hawaii to meet our new surrogate.”
“It’s not gate-crashing if the universe is practicallyshovingme onto the plane.”
“Mrs. Mulroney—”
She pressed on, undeterred. “Look at it from my perspective. The shop is sold. My calendar is suddenly as bare as a nun’s dance card. And thenyouwalk in here, practically glowing, telling me your future might just be waiting on a beach in the Pacific.”
I opened my mouth to argue but she had momentum now.
“You said it yourself… New beginnings. Life chapters. Grand adventures. You think I’m going to sit around knitting tea cozies and cheering for the villain on Judge Judy while you swan off to paradise to meet the woman who might soon be carrying your child?”
“Nobody is ‘swanning off.’”
“You implied it with your body language.”
“I didn’t—”
“I’ve always wanted to see a volcano,” she pressed on. “And a real hula. And a sea turtle. And possibly an island man who wants to eat mangoes out of the palm of my hand.”
“Ew.”
“Not to mention the fact that my Irish skin is paler than a ghost with the plague. If anyone needs a Hawaiian tan, it’s me.”
