"Shannon?" The woman who poked her head in the door was attractive, dressed impeccably. Lily was her assistant, a casual friend among what Shannon was beginning to realize was a lifetime of casual friends. "I thought you might want a break."
"I haven't been doing anything I need a break from."
"Hey." Lily stepped in, crossing over to her desk to give Shannon's shoulders a brisk rub. "Give yourself a little time. You've only been back a few days."
"I shouldn't have bothered." In an irritable move she pushed back from the desk. "I'm not producing anything."
"You're going through a rough patch."
&n
bsp; "Yeah."
"Why don't I cancel your afternoon meetings?"
"I have to get back to work sometime." She stared out the window, at the view of New York she'd dreamed would one day be hers. "But cancel the lunch with Tod. I'm not in the mood to be social."
Lily pursed her lips and made a note of it. "Trouble in paradise?"
"Let's just say I'm thinking that relationship isn't productive, either-and there's too much backlog for lunch dates."
"Your call."
"Yes, it is." Shannon turned back. "I haven't really thanked you for handling so much of my work while I was gone. I've looked some things over and wanted to tell you that you did a terrific job."
"That's what they pay me for." Lily flipped a page in her book. "The Mincko job needs some finishing touches, and nothing's satisfied the suits at Rightway. Tilghmanton thinks you can. He sent down a memo this morning asking you to look over the drafts and come up with something new-by the end of the week."
"Good." She nodded and pushed up to her desk again. "A challenge like that might be just what I need. Let's see Rightway first, Lily. You can fill me in on Mincko later."
"You got it." Lily headed for the door. "Oh, I should tell you. Rightway wants something traditional, but different, subtle, but bold, sexy but restrained."
"Of course they do. I'll get my magic wand out of my briefcase."
"Good to have you back, Shannon." When the door closed, Shannon let out a deep breath. It was good to be back, wasn't it. It had to be.
Rain was pelting the streets. After a miserable tenhour day that had concluded in a showdown with a man she'd tried to convince herself she'd been in love with, Shannon watched it from the cab window on the way back to her apartment.
Maybe she'd been right to go back to work so quickly. The routine, the demands and concentration had helped shake some of the grief. At least temporarily. She needed routine, she reminded herself. She needed the outrageous schedule that had earned her her position at Ry-Tilghmanton.
Her job, the career she'd carved out, was all she had now. There wasn't even the illusion of a satisfying relationship to fill a corner of her life.
But she'd been right to break things off with Tod. They'd been no more than attractive props for each other. And life, she'd just discovered, was too short for foolish choices.
She paid off the cab at the corner, dashed toward her building with a quick smile for the doorman. Out of habit she picked up her mail, flipping through the envelopes as she rode the elevator to her floor.
The one from Ireland stopped her cold,
On an oath she shoved it to the bottom, unlocking her door, tossing all the mail on a table. Though her heart was thudding, she followed ingrained habit. She hung her coat, slipped out of her shoes, poured herself her usual glass of wine. When she was seated at the little table by the window that looked out over Madison Avenue, she settled down to read her mail.
It took only moments before she gave in and tore open the letter from Brianna Concannon Thane.
Dear Shannon,
I'm so terribly sorry about your mother's death. You'll be grieving still, and I doubt if any words I have will ease your heart. From the letters she wrote to my father, I know she was a loving and special woman, and I'm sorry I never had the chance to meet her, and tell her for myself.
You've met with Rogan's man, Mr. Hobbs. From his report I understand that you were aware of the relationship between your mother and my father. I think this might cause you some hurt, and I'm sorry for it. I also think you may not appreciate hearing from me. But I had to write to you, at least once.
Your father, your mother's husband, surely loved you very much. I don't wish to interfere with those emotions or those memories, which I'm sure are precious to you. I wish only to offer you a chance to know this other part of your family, and your heritage. My father was not a simple man, but he was a good one, and never did he forget your mother. I found her letters to him long after his death, still wrapped in the ribbon he'd tied around them.
I'd like to share him with you, or if that isn't what you want, to offer you a chance to see the Ireland where you were conceived. If you could find it in your heart, I would very much like you to come and stay with me and mine awhile. If nothing else, the countryside here is a good place for easing grief.
You owe me nothing, Shannon. And perhaps you think I owe you nothing as well. But if you loved your mother, as I did my father, you know we owe them. Perhaps by becoming friends, if not sisters, we'll have
given them back something of what they gave up for us.
The invitation is open. If ever you wish to come, you'll be welcome.
Yours truly,
Brianna
Shannon read it twice. Then, when she had tossed it aside, picked it up and read it again. Was the woman really so simple, so unselfish, so willing to open heart and home?
She didn't want Brianna's heart, or her home, Shannon told herself.
And yet. And yet... Was she going to deny even to herself that she'd been considering just this? A trip to Ireland. A look into the past. She toyed with the idea of going over without contacting any of the Concannons.
Because she was afraid? she wondered. Yes, maybe, because she was afraid. But also because she didn't want any pressure, any questions, any demands.