Chicken, rice, broccoli, green bell peppers, snow peas, carrots, garlic, soy sauce. I’d been shopping since Aiden had brought me some much-needed staples. I piled everything on the counter and then pulled down a skillet and got to work while the men discussed town news. It was all very normal, yet strangely foreign.
“Mmm, that smells good. What are you making us, and are you sure we can’t help?” Mr. Cavanaugh’s chair scraped against the floor, easing back, ready to lend a hand.
“I’m happy to have you both, Mr. Cavanaugh. Not that Chaucer isn’t wonderful company, but it can get a little lonely around here.” The skillet was sizzling, tangy aromas warming the kitchen. It did smell good. I could do this. I could take care of myself and maybe even a few other people.
“Call me Connor. Please.”
I nodded, my heart swelling.
“You cook. We’ll clean up,” Aiden said, settling the discussion.
“Perfect. Looks like we’re just about ready.” I put out the plates and silverware. “What would you both like to drink? I think there’s some beer and some wine in there.”
“Now, I wouldn’t say no to a beer,” Connor said. Aiden hummed his agreement.
Once we were all settled and eating, I took a minute to sit back and watch the men at my table. Forty odd years separated them, but they were mirror images of each other, both tall and strong, gruffness hiding a well of compassion.
Aiden looked up. “Good dinner. So, do you want help painting?”
I intended to thank him for his offer but beg off. I liked the idea of doing it all myself...
Connor rubbed his hands together. “Oh, now that’s an idea. I haven’t painted in years.” He obviously saw the look in my eyes and quickly headed off any argument by reminding me, “You’re going to need our help. Little thing like you can’t reach the tops of the walls. My back’s not so good anymore, so if you paint the bottom half of the walls, we’ll take the top.” Then he looked at his grandson. “Aiden, Katie and I are going to sit right here and chat while you tape off the room.” He winked at me and said conspiratorially, “I hate taping.”
Aiden threw down his napkin. “Now, listen, old man, you’re not sticking me?—”
“I already taped the room.” I cut in to stem the argument.
They both looked at me and smiled. “Well, then, what are we waiting for? Let’s go paint your room,” Aiden said.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Aiden
She'd chosen a color somewhere between purple and blue for the wall color. It was an unusual choice and yet fitting, the little flame-haired fairy slumbering in her bower.
Pops sat in a chair watching us, his hands clasped contentedly across his stomach, benevolently surveying his kingdom. He claimed we needed his expert supervision. He was actually too tired to keep painting, but Katie’s face didn’t register a second of disbelief or pity.
She kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Connor.” She studied the half wall he’d just completed. “Yours looks wonderful. What am I doing wrong? Mine looks streaky and patchy.”
A furrow developed between her brows. I had an urge to place my lips right there, to soothe that worry away. I turned back to painting. What was it about her? I knew I shouldn’t care, knew it was a fool’s errand, and yet I couldn’t help myself.
“You’re being too stingy with the paint, too hesitant with your roller. There’s no place for fear in painting. It’ll be written all over your walls. You need to paint like you live your life—with verve.”
“Verve?” The furrow was back, her head cocked. “I don’t have verve. What should the verveless do when they need to paint?”
Damn it, I was watching her again. She seemed so forlorn about her verveless state that I had to do something. “Someone without verve could never have started rumors about Joey Markum’s penis and a vacuum hose,” I said.
Pops goggled at her for a moment before he exploded. “Katherine Ann Gallagher! What do you know about Joey Markum’s penis?”
Katie’s face was blank for a second before the memory came crashing back and she doubled over laughing. Giving up the fight, she plopped down on the floor, clutching her stomach and wheezing. I laughed, myself, though it had more to do with Katie losing it rather than any memory.
Pops glanced at me. We shared a moment of perfect understanding. The memory of how bold and bodacious she’d been seemed to delight her almost as much as the rumor mongering itself.
Watching her laugh, my chest ached. I wanted to turn back to the wall, away from Katie, but I couldn’t. The little fire fairy was melting my hard-won bitterness. I wasn’t ready.
“I’m talking to you, young lady. What do you know about Joey Markum?” Pops was putting on his stern voice, but he couldn’t hide the laughter in his eyes.
Katie was still on the floor, gasping for breath while wiping tears from her eyes. “Oh, my God, I completely forgot about that!” She gave Pops such a brilliant smile that he found it impossible to maintain his mock condemnation.
