Page 51 of Bracing The Storm

Did I say that out loud? I hope not. I swat my hand again. “Just going over my to-do list.”

“Anything urgent on it?”

Absolutely! Get Patrick Walsh out of my system before I turn into melted slush whenever I so much as hear his name. “A thing or two. Nothing I can’t handle.” I shoot him a reassuring smile, eager to change the subject before he starts probing. He is a lawyer, after all, so being attentive to details is probably second nature to him.

“So.” I clear my throat. “Did you get an appointment with the judge yet?”

“We’re still working on it. He’s a very busy man, and the Walsh estate isn’t a priority to him. It’s not helping that he knew the late Mr. Walsh and thinks Patrick should be the heir.”

My heart gives a jolt. Of course. It makes sense that the judge appointed to my case would think that. EvenIagree.

“What happened between Patrick and his mother?” I find myself asking, even though I’m not one to engage in gossip. Whatever issues Patrick had with his mother, it’s none of my concern. And yet I can’t help myself. I want to know more about him as a person, about his background, who he is, and what shaped him into the man he has become.

Duncan grimaces. “There were rumors but no one knows for sure. His mother and he had a fallout over his choices in life. You know what it’s like with rich people.”

No, I don’t know. I’m not rich, I don’t mingle with rich people. In fact, I doubt I’d even be a blip on Patrick’s radar if it weren’t for his mother’s decision to leave her house to me.

I keep silent and let him continue.

“He had a bit of a reputation as a wild child,” Duncan says. “Parties, women, and the like. His mother wanted him to settle down. He would have none of it. I think she was worried about him. He’s calmed down a little, but his reputation hasn’t improved.”

That certainly explains his confidence when it comes to women. He probably thinks he’s the universe’s gift to the female population, which is why he behaves like an entitled jerk.

I mull over Duncan’s words for a while. “But was that reason enough to leave her house to a stranger?”

He shrugs. “Who knows? Family can be anything but a stroll in the park. Different personalities and too many expectations are bound to clash at some point or another.”

“You can choose your friends but you can’t choose your family. Don’t I know that?”

“We’re here,” Duncan says needlessly as he takes a turn on the main street and pulls up in front of the pub. Both sides of the road are paved with parked cars and I think I can hear faint music carrying from inside. “Why don’t you go in while I look for a parking spot?”

“Sure.” Grabbing my handbag, I open the passenger door and am immediately hit by a strong gust of wind. The air temperature seems to have dropped a few degrees or maybe it’s just my perception after enjoying the comfort of Duncan’s sleek sports car. I shut the door and hurry down the street, braving the storm as I head straight for the pub.

A few people are standing outside the door, stomping from one foot to the other while yelling into their phones. Apparently, the music inside is louder than the howling wind. A bald guy twice my age holds the door open for me and makes a theatrical bow. Back home I would immediately go into wary mode, but in this part of the world there’s something strangely charming about it. Even his toothy grin looks friendly rather than predatory.

I mouth a thank-you and enter.

The atmosphere makes me stop in my tracks. Everything looks so old I might just as well have been catapulted a few hundred years back in time.

Even though the pub’s larger than I thought, with a bar area facing the entrance and what looks like an open extension at the back, it is crammed with punters. The tables are close together but the people don’t seem to mind the non-existent personal space. It has a warm and homey feeling to it, with polished oak counters, empty bottles, and beer caps adorning the few shelves mounted on the whitewashed walls. High up behind the bar is a television screen that’s switched off. I can imagine the men in the village gathering after a long day at work to chat over a pint of beer while watching the local sports shows. Somehow it feelsright that they would have a place like this while Sinead’s café caters to the women’s social needs.

It’s cozy and quaint. Personal and so very different from the faceless, nameless crowd of strangers back home. It’s a place where one could grow old with the right person. I can understand why Patrick would want to find “the one” and spend the rest of his life here.

This is ridiculous! It hasn’t even been five minutes.

What’s wrong with me?

Why can’t I stop thinking about him?

“You came!” Sinead’s voice calls out a moment before she appears in my line of vision, drawing my attention away from my thoughts involving the grumpy guy. Before I know what’s happening, she’s wrapped her arms around me and pulled me to her chest. In that same instant, it feels as though all eyes are drawn to me. If people didn’t notice the stranger’s arrival before, now everyone’s nudging everyone else and whispering.

I’m not surprised. That’s what people do, and yet I wish Sinead would sense my wish to stay under people’s radar.

Yes, it’s boring. But boring is safe, and safe is all I want.

“Everyone, this is Lori,” Sinead yells over the music, completely oblivious to my wish to become invisible. “Lori’s just arrived and she’s working for me. Be nice to her or you’re not getting any hot cross buns for a year.”

The crowd laughs and the ice is instantly broken. People are almost jumping out of their seats to greet me. I find myself smiling and shaking countless hands while trying to remember names and faces that seem to vanish from my mind as soon as they’ve entered.

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