Page 74 of Grace on the Rocks

“Darling,” she had whispered when the door closed behind him, and then he was burying his face inherhair, like an overgrown child, as she folded him up in her arms.

“I’m s-sorry,Ma,” he whispered.

She smoothed the fringe from his forehead and then took his face in both hands, tears shining in her eyes.

“How couldIforget a thing like that?Noteating meat was always so important to you.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters.”

He shook his head, and she rubbed his bearded cheek.

“I didn’t mean you look thin.Youlook good, my handsome lad.Justa wee bit tired,” she added, searching his eyes for the truth. “Younever did sleep enough.”

“Working a lot,” he said, squeezing her hand and looking around the old shop. “Asare you, apparently.”

She shook her head. “WhenNellieCoombewanted to cut back to one day a week, someone had to pitch in.Especiallyduring the festival.And, like yourGrandadMacalways said, ‘Ifyou’re going to be here, be here.’ ”

The same wordsBryanhad said toGrace.Maybehe needed to take his own advice. “Arethe tourists running you ragged,Ma?”

“Och,Ienjoy it.Whatabout your tourists?” she asked, raising one cautious eyebrow.

“Ah, that, aye.Well.Theymay have come unprepared.”

She nodded wisely. “We’reall out of slickers,I’mafraid.”

“No, not that.Ah, lady troubles,” he said, dredging up the term she andCaithad used when he was a boy.

“ThatIcan help you with!”

After purchasing every single item she’d recommended and a few she hadn’t, he’d felt a little silly leaving it in the loo like some sort of apology bouquet, but he’d hoped it would erase last night’s awkward tension.

Based onGrace’sdemeanor this morning, however, it may have only made things worse.Hopefullyhis second peace offering—a quiet, empty house—would be met with more enthusiasm.

By the time he andLùcashad confirmed withUncleDàibhidhthat his order of casement windows was delayed at least a week, the lunch crowd at theThreePuffinswas picking up, and they were barely able to snag a two-top in the corner.

“Half eleven late enough for a pint?”Bryanasked, but his cousin’s only reply was a sullen shrug.

He was still agitated after the neighbors’ open hostility and a stilted conversation with his da at the hardware store.Bryanwell remembered those angsty days before he fled the island and stopped speaking to his own demanding father all together.

“You didn’t think to check on the windows before starting in on that wall?”Lùcgroused.

“Aye,Ithought about it.”

Lùcas gave him a look as if to say,Andyet…?

“Needed a good airing out anyway,”Bryanteased, trying to chivy away his cousin’s bad mood. “So, what do the kids do for fun around here these days?”

“Make questionable decisions about karaoke songs, mostly,”Lùcasreplied with another shrug.

“That’s always a good time.”

“Is it?”

Now it wasBryan’sturn to shrug.Sincehis stammer plagued him less while singing, karaoke had been just about the only safe group activity when he was a teen.

“What were you, the karaoke king?”

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