She scooped up more pasta. “So, Iona, have you thought of travertine for the master bath?”
“Travertine.” Iona let out another breath, and managed, “Hmmm.”
“And we’ve still details on your wedding to see to, and have barely talked of yours, Meara. There’s joy here.” She took her friends’ hands again. “The kind women know. So let’s have more wine and talk of weddings and making stone and glass into homes.”
• • •
CONNOR READ THE TEXT FROM MEARA. “CABHAN’S BEEN AT the cottage. No,” he said quickly as both his friends pushed back from the table. “He’s gone. Meara says Branna sent him off with his tail burning between his legs.”
“I’ll see better outside, out of the light and noise. We’ll be sure,” Fin added, and rose, walked out of the warmth of the pub.
“We should go back,” Boyle insisted.
“Meara says not to. Says that Branna needs her evening with just the women, and swears they’re safe, tucked up inside. She wouldn’t brush it off, Boyle.”
He opened himself, did what he could to block out th
e voices, the laughter around him.
“He’s not close.” He looked to Fin for verification when Fin came back.
“He’s that pissed, and still on the weak side,” Fin said. “Away from the cottage now, away from here. I should’ve felt him. If we’d been there . . .”
“Only shadows and fog,” Connor put in. “It’s all he’d risk yet. But the pub’s done for us, isn’t it? Back to your house?”
“Easy enough to keep watch from there, whether Branna likes it or not.”
“I’m with you. No, I’ve got this.” Boyle dug out some bills, tossed them down. “You never got around to talking to Connor as you wanted.”
“About what?” Connor asked.
Fin merely swung on his jacket, and bided his time as half the pub had something to say to Connor before he left. The man drew people like honey drew flies, Fin thought, and knew he himself would go half mad if he had that power.
Outside, they squeezed into Fin’s lorry as they’d decided—after considerable discussion—one would do them.
“It’s the school I wanted to discuss,” Fin began.
“There are no problems I can think of. Is it adding the hawking on horseback, as I’ve given that considerate thought?”
“We can talk about that as well. I’ve had partnership papers drawn up.”
“Partnership? Is Boyle going into it with you?”
“I’ve got enough on my plate with the stables, thanks all the same,” Boyle said, and tried to find space to stretch out his legs.
“Well, who’d you partner with then? Ah, tell me it’s not that idjit O’Lowrey from Sligo. He knows his hawks sure enough, but on every other point he’s a git.”
“Not O’Lowrey, but another idjit altogether. I’m partnering with you, you git.”
“With me? But . . . Well, I run the place, don’t I? There’s no need for you to make me a partner.”
“I’m not having the papers for need but because it’s right and it’s time. I’d’ve done it straight off, but you were half inclined to building, as much as you’re for the hawks. And running the school might not have suited you, the paperwork of it, the staffing and all the rest of the business. But it does, otherwise you could’ve just done the hawk walks, and the training. But the whole of it’s for you, so well, that’s done.”
Connor said nothing until Fin stopped in front of his house. “I don’t need papers, Fin.”
“You don’t, no, nor do I with you. Nor does Boyle or me with him. But the lawyers and the tax man and all of them, they need them. So we’ll read them over, sign them, and be done with it. It’d be a favor to me, Connor.”
“Bollocks to that. It’s no favor to—”