Page 32 of Welcome Home, Katie Gallagher
“It’s Maureen Cavanaugh-Howard. Mo,” she clarified. “My grandfather dated your grandmother.”
“Oh, of course. You’re Aiden’s sister.”
The bell on the door tinkled again and we both turned. Speaking of Aiden, that brunette who liked to touch his arm walked in.
“Hi, Nancy. How are you today?” Maureen gestured toward me. “Do you remember Katie Gallagher? She spent summers here growing up. She was the one who tossed out condoms at the Fourth of July parade all those years ago.”
Shaking my head, I remembered. I’d been fifteen, and the local paper had just published an article on the rise of STDs, especially among teens. I was fulfilling my civic duty.
“Gran had never been so angry with me.” I smiled, recalling her thirty-minute lecture on my inappropriate behavior. That poor woman did her best to keep me in line.
“Is that why you stopped visiting?” Mo asked.
“No, my dad died two months later.” And my wild streak died with him. An era of fear and uncertainty took over.
Mo took my hand and squeezed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.” She turned to that Nancy woman. “Did you two know each other?”
I stared blankly at her. “I don’t?—”
“Sure. We know each other. Your friend Daisy’s little sister was my best friend. We hung out at the lake with you sometimes.”
“Oh, of course, yes. It’s good to see you.” I think she could tell I was lying. Her expression turned flinty.
“Maureen, I’m here to look for a gift for my mother. I’m just going to browse around.” She gave me a brittle smile before wandering to the back of the store.
Maureen, like her brother, was gorgeous. I shook my head. “What is it with you Cavanaughs? I just about fell off my chair when I realized that skinny, knobbly-kneed Aiden had turned into tall, dark, and angry. And you, just beautiful.” I rolled my eyes. “I remember you used to move so fast, it was hard for my eyes to keep up, running, swimming, diving, arm wrestling.” I shook my head, marveling again at the woman.
She laughed, a joyous, inclusive laugh that said all was right in the world. “I forgot about that. I kicked everyone’s butt arm wrestling. I may have been skinny, but I was strong.” She brought up her arm and flexed.
“Do all Cavanaughs grow into stunners? Because I’ve got to tell you, speaking as a mere mortal, it’s starting to piss me off.”
She laughed again. “Aww, you’ve made my day. I was feeling a little crabby and out of sorts today, and now I don’t feel anything but tickled.” She looked over my clothes, not judging, just assessing. “So, are you shopping today or getting the lay of the land? Pops told us you were back, so I hoped I’d see you soon.”
“Are your parents still living in Bar Harbor?” Mr. Cavanaugh hadn’t mentioned his son and daughter-in-law.
Mo pushed her long, dark hair over her shoulder. “No. By us, I meant my husband, Gary, and our son, Patrick. Wait...” She pulled a phone out of the pocket of her tweed slacks. “Here he is. That’s my little Paddy.” She turned the phone around to me.
I reached for the cell, my insides twisting. “Oh, Mo, he’s so beautiful. He looks just like you.” My finger traced his chubby cheek and dark, wavy hair. “He has your eyes.” I looked up to return the phone. “Congratulations.” My longing must have been obvious because she gave me a surreptitious squeeze on my arm before pocketing the device.
She walked farther into the shop, drawing me with her. “My parents, however, have said a fond farewell to frozen winters. My older brother Caleb—do you remember him?”
I nodded.
“He and his family live in San Diego. Mom and Dad have a little bungalow near them. Usually they don’t go until November, but Mom’s arthritis was really bothering her, so they went early. They tried to stay all winter last year, after Alice—” She cut herself off, flicking her hand as though that was enough of that topic. “They wanted to be here for Aiden, but Mom was in pain, so he sent them west.”
Mo walked to a nearby display table. “This would be gorgeous on you.” She held up a thick, intricately woven turtleneck sweater in emerald green. “Not many can wear green without looking sallow. On you, it would be stunning. Come on; you’ll try it on.” She gathered items for me as we made our way to the fitting rooms. “You’ve been living in California, right?”
I nodded, looking everywhere at once. “Yes, but I can’t affor—” I gestured toward the front of the store. “It was just the dress. I’m not actually shopping for anything,” I ended lamely. “But if you’re hiring, I could really use a job.”
She dropped the clothes she was carrying onto the counter and strode to the back of the store, waving me to keep up. “I’m not hiring, unfortunately. The Harbor does all its business in the spring and summer. Fall and winter, it’s just the year-round residents. We can easily maintain our shops on our own. I wish I could offer you a cocktail instead of cold-weather clothes on sale.”
“Clothing stores should totally have liquor licenses,” I said, following in her wake.
“Preaching to the choir, sister.” She looked at my thin wool trousers and sweater set. “Maine winters are frigid. Do you have a good warm coat?”
I shook my head. “Just this,” I said, indicating the unzipped jacket I was wearing. “It’s one of Gran’s old parkas.”
Mo smiled. “I’m thinking you’re going to want to update that look.” She led me to the back, to the outerwear racks. She pulled a long black suede coat with lamb’s wool lining off the hanger and held it up to me. “This is very warm and would look incredible on you. Very dramatic.”
