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When we reached the café and Maggie was busy taking off her jacket, Dad turned to me and signed, How come you never told me about her?
I sent him a confused look. What do you mean? There’s nothing to tell.
You like her. I can see it in the way you look at her.
I barely know her.
Dad smiled. But you want to. I bet you’re glad I invited her for tea.
I was glad, but Dad was looking so pleased with himself I refused to admit it. So, I just shrugged and went to sit at our usual table by the window. Eyes meeting mine as though asking permission, Maggie motioned to the seat next to me. I nodded for her to sit while Dad stood by the counter chatting with the café owner, Mary.
Then everything else faded away when her cool, soft hand touched mine. I stared at it, unable to take my eyes off her delicate fingers. “I’m so sorry for rushing off like I did last week. I don’t know what came over me,” she said in a quiet voice, and I lifted my gaze from her hand.
I stared at her questioningly, wanting to ask why. Why had she rushed off? And where had she been all week? She withdrew her hand and turned to pick up the menu, her brows drawing together as she stared at it. I thought maybe she did it so she didn’t need to explain further why she’d been absent, but then something about her niggled at me. Something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. She seemed strangely nervous as she studied the list of cakes and sandwiches, her shoulders tensing.
Dad appeared then, distracting me from Maggie. “Great news,” he declared. “There are three raspberry scones left, and Mary’s put them aside for us. You do like scones, don’t you, Maggie?”
“What? Oh, yes,” she replied, some kind of relief on her face. “I love scones. I’ll eat anything really.”
I shot Dad a frown and signed, Let her make her own choice.
But the scones are the best thing on the menu, he signed back.
Doesn’t matter. She might prefer something else.
“Um, is everything okay?” Maggie asked, drawing our attention.
“Everything’s fine, love. My son just wanted me to tell you how pretty you look today. Isn’t that right, Shay?”
I swear my answering glare could’ve scorched him alive. You’re an arsehole, I signed.
And you think she looks pretty. Don’t deny it, he signed back.
I glanced at Maggie and found her blushing while she tucked some hair behind her ear. Her eyes flicked to mine as she whispered, “Oh, that’s, um, very kind.”
I wanted to tell her my dad was meddling, but there was no easy way. I didn’t want to pull my phone out again to write a message because that hadn’t gone well the last time. It seemed I was just going to have to let it slide. Besides, I liked how the compliment made her cheeks flush.
Mary appeared with a large pot of tea, three cups and a scone for each of us, as well as plenty of cream and jam. Dad and Maggie thanked her, and then she left. I quietly poured everyone’s tea while Dad asked, “So, have you lived in the area long, Maggie?”
“Yes, I’ve lived in Phibsborough for almost ten years now, and I grew up not too far away in Finglas.”
“Do you live with family?”
She shook her head. “No, I rent a small flat on my own. I have some half-siblings who live in Glasnevin, so I go to visit them when I can. They’re much younger than me.” She motioned to the shopping bag at her feet. “I was actually just shopping for them, grabbing a few things. I’ll go out to see them when we’re finished here.”
“Ah, that’s nice. It’s always good to keep in touch with family.”
Maggie nodded but didn’t reply, shooting me a small look of thanks for pouring her tea. One good thing about my dad was how chatty he was. When he met a new person, he always asked lots of questions, which allowed me to learn things about Maggie I never would’ve learned otherwise.
“And your parents? Are they in Glasnevin, too?”
“No, they’re not, um …” She seemed upset answering the question, and Dad’s voice gentled.
“Oh, they’ve passed? I’m so sorry, love. My Claire passed away a little over eight years ago now.”
His mentioning Mam gave me a small, mournful pang in my gut. I missed my mother a lot. Some days were worse than others, and it often gave me a very specific feeling of sadness when Dad mentioned her. I wondered if Maggie felt the same sadness. She’d lost not one but two parents. That had to be painful and probably lonely, too. Compassion wrapped itself around my heart.
Maggie’s eyes gentled as she gazed at Dad. “My condolences, Eugene,” she said softly.
