“I remember she got a place at Columbia to study art,” he said. “But then Pop had his heart attack and she wanted to stay and look after him. And the pub.”
“Yes, I know, but that was eight years ago now. I wonder what happened to her dream of becoming an artist and going to Paris?”
He shrugged. “Maybe you should ask her?”
“Maybe I will,” she replied, trying not to be annoyed with the dismissive tone.
Who was she to get belligerent on Faith’s behalf? Faith had never said she felt tied down, or disappointed with life. Well, except when it came to her nonexistent sex life. And what did Zelda really know about healthy sibling relationships? Given that her relationship with her only sibling had barely functioned for over a decade?
“You do that,” he said, with easy confidence. “But I wouldn’t worry about Faith. She loves the pub.”
She pulled out her own sandwich, folded down the paper to take a nibble of the chewy rye bread, intrigued by the edge she had detected in his voice. “And you don’t?”
He finished his sandwich, watching her, the intent stare tightening her skin. The way it had been doing last night. Interesting? His emerald green gaze still had the same potency hidden behind the lenses of his sunglasses.
“I didn’t say that,” he said at last, the hint of defensiveness in his tone more than enough to pique her interest. And make her fairly sure her assumption was correct.
“I go to Sully’s once a month, to meet up with the girls,” she said. “I’ve bumped into all three of your brothers there quite a few times. But I find it odd I’ve never seen you there. Not once. You didn’t even show the afternoon Finn and Dawn got together,” she added, remembering the impromptu celebration at the pub a few months ago. “And I know Faith tried to contact you.”
He shrugged and concentrated on grabbing another sandwich and then unwrapping it. Yup, definitely defensive. Bordering on guilty. How fascinating. Did her white knight have a chink in his armor?
“I have a full-on job. It demands a lot of my time. I was on a case that afternoon. And I don’t generally get much opportunity to hang out in bars.”
The implication that she did was duly noted. And ignored. She happened to be an expert at handling the old offense-as-defense maneuver after the last few months of sharing a home with her brother.
“An interesting excuse, but let’s examine the evidence, counselor.”
He didn’t speak, so she took that as her cue to continue.
“Your family has a regular time-honored tradition of having big family get-togethers every Labor Day weekend. Something you know your sister has been planning for weeks. And to which you are invited and have already agreed to attend.”
“How do you know I agreed to go?”
“Do you deny it?” she shot back.
“Well, I guess I didn’t exactly…”
“Interruption overruled, then,” she interrupted. “For badgering the witness.”
“Why am I getting the feeling you watch way too much Judge Judy?”
She grinned at the wry—and surprisingly accurate comment. “Judge Judy often makes some very good points.”
“Judge Judy is an actual judge, whereas her viewers aren’t. Even if some of them think they are.”
“Right, that’s definitely badgering the witness. Now, back to my evidence.”
“Supposition and hearsay isn’t admissible as evidence.”
“It is if it’s true,” she continued, riding roughshod over his objection. “Now let me see, where was I? Oh yes.” She popped up a forefinger before he could interrupt again. “You agreed to go and yet you’re skipping out for very spurious reasons. And without even phoning your sister to let her know. Which makes me wonder if that Catholic guilt of yours might be in play again. And why would you feel guilty about not going, unless you don’t want to go but don’t want to admit it?”
“I don’t consider having a picnic with you on Manhattan Beach a spurious reason.”
“You should. You don’t even like me.”
She took another bite of her sandwich, savoring the sharp, creamy flavor of the cheese—and the odd glow in her chest at the thought that he didn’t consider her a spurious reason.
Progress.