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“Don’t you start pushing the girl for information.” Deirdre glares at Roslin. “We all know the score, and that’s that.”
“I’m sorry but I don’t think I can tell either of you anything you don’t already know.” I shrug, feeling helpless, but both older women are smiling like they’re just having a nice bit of banter.
“All right, back to work, all of you.” A third woman comes into the room. She’s larger than the others and has an apron over her sweatsuit. “I’ve got another pie to make.”
“You and your pies, Maggie.” Roslin rolls her eyes. “They’re notthatgood, you know.”
“How dare you.” Maggie puts her hands on her hips. “Says the woman that ate an entire pumpkin pie to herself last night.”
“I was hungry and I didn’t even enjoy it.” Roslin raises her chin haughtily.
The aunts start bickering and laughing as I start cleaning the dishes. I’m smiling and offering comments here or there, mostly when they ask me things since I don’t have the same comfort level as they do, but I start to feel at ease around them. More aunts come and go, mostly to heat up food or to stack more dishes, and a few of them stop to give me their name and how they’re related to everyone else, which Deirdre makes clear will not be tested anytime soon.
“But itwillbe tested eventually!” Maggie says with a cackle.
An hour passes like rainwater down a roof shingle. I expected to feel awkward or uncomfortable, but instead it’s like I’ve been doing this my whole life—and in some ways, I have. This isn’t allthat different from what things were like back before my father got killed. I like it here in the kitchen listening to these women who have known each other all their lives talking and laughing together, keeping the family going behind the scenes.
It’s happy and it’s good. I know they’re only treating me like this because Ronan told his mother that we’re together, and maybe he even told her that we’re in love, but it doesn’t really matter what their motives are. I’m here in this kitchen with a job to do, and for the first time in way, way too long, I feel like I belong.
Tears spring to my eyes. I try to blink them away, but Deirdre’s talking to me about how one of the nephews thinks he’s going to be a professional baseball player but actually he kind of sucks and is totally delusional. “Oh, honey,” she says, putting a hand on my arm. “Sweetie, it’s okay, Tommy’s just an idiot. He’ll figure out that he’s no good eventually. He doesn’t evenlikebaseball that much.”
“No, it’s not that. God, I’m sorry, this is embarrassing.” I wipe my eyes with the dish towel. It smells like soap and detergent.
“Don’t feel embarrassed.” Deirdre rubs my back and pats my shoulder. “Honestly, it’s very stressful around here. We’re doing our best to keep from tearing up too.”
“Lord knows I cry enough at home,” Roslin says, completely matter of fact.
“Bawled my eyes out this morning, thinking about those stupid boys,” Maggie agrees, nodding her head.
“We all understand.” Deirdre smiles at me, so kind and gentle, and god, that only makes it worse.
I cry in earnest. Shit, this is so stupid. The women flock around and make me sit as they get me water and calm me down. I’m absolutely mortified, but eventually I get it together enough that I can try to explain. “It’s just, I miss my family,” I say and that gets nods all around.
“It’s all right, dear,” Deirdre says, looking sympathetic. “You’ve been through a lot.”
“And you’re all being nice to me, and I just—” I take a deep breath and blow it out. “I just miss home, but this is nice too.”
“It’s all right,” Roslin says, deadpan, and I laugh. I can’t help it. That’s exactly something one of my father’s Capos would’ve said.
That breaks the tension. The women go back to work and give me a moment to gather myself before I’m back on my feet. Once the pile of dishes is done, Maggie commandeers me for baking duty, and even though I’m keeping busy, I don’t feel like I’m working, because there’s warmth and joy in this little kitchen, and that’s more than I’ve had in a very long time.
Chapter 43
Ronan
The petitioners come and go. Mostly they’re related business owners looking for assurances that this rift with Cormac isn’t going to affect their bottom line. I do my best to assuage their worries and send them on their way—but a few have legitimate concerns, like when the product is going to reach their various warehouses and such. I don’t have good answers, and I can tell problems are brewing.
I need to end this conflict, and I need to do it fast. Once all the petitioners are dealt with, I send Niall to check on Valentina then to summon all the uncles. He comes back and confirms that Val’s perfectly fine and currently helping Aunt Mags make pies. A dreadful job, almost a torture, but Niall thinks she’s fine.
The uncles file in. Eddie, Joseph, and Brian take positions of prominence, but other uncles fill in behind them. It’s not everyone, but it’s everyone that really matters. Niall shuts the door and begins the meeting.
I’ve been dreading this. They know about my meeting with Julien and about our alliance, but I’ve kept the arrangedmarriage detail a secret. When I tell them the full terms, I can tell they’re about as happy as I am.
“And whose daughter are you sacrificing to the French?” Uncle Eddie asks with a deep frown. “Luckily, mine’s already married.”
“I haven’t decided yet.” I look around the room. Most of the men here are older, which means their children are older as well, but a few do have girls in their early twenties that might make decent matches. “We’re going to discuss it and come up with a reasonable match among ourselves. This isn’t going to be like with the Italians. You will have a say in the process.”
There’s more grumbling, but that helps. “I’m not even sure we should get those Frenchmen involved at all,” Uncle Joseph says, leaning back with his arms crossed over his stomach. “They don’t have the same relationship that we do with Cormac and them. They won’t hesitate to hurt our boys.”
