Monday morning, Oonagh caught her husband between the shower and the wardrobe.
"You really thought you could keep Assumpta Fitzgerald a secret from me?"
He tightened the towel around his waist. "I wanted to be sure."
"Oh, it's sure. Had a good long talk with the late, great Ambrose Egan last night."
Paul picked out some clothes and laid them on the bed. "Oh."
"I suppose she's back to reclaim the family pub," Oonagh went on, trying to sound indignant.
"I doubt that very much."
"Could be our chance to hand it off, you know. Be a normal family again." She chose a necktie and passed it to him.
Paul scowled at the tie and shook his head, but he accepted it.
Brendan took his breakfast at the pub - savouring the last week of his summer holiday, he supposed, but also eager to glimpse some of the hall-of-famers he'd yet to encounter. Siobhan had been away to her surgery early, and so Aisling was beside him. Oonagh had thoughtfully dug up an old booster seat, and slipped a bit of molasses into her oatmeal.
First down the stairs was Peter Clifford, looking sleep-tousled and still wearing yesterday's clothes. He waved lazily at them, jingling some car keys in his hand, and walked out.
Next after him was Niamh - what would her last name be now? She had Kieran beside her, their dog on a lead, and was speaking into her mobile phone. Crossing through the bar, she squeezed Brendan's shoulder affectionately in recognition, but then ushered the boy out the pub door. Looking out the window, Brendan saw them cross the street, tying the dog out in front of Hendley's.
Assumpta and her dog were seconds behind; she gave a nod hello, looking terribly distracted, and went off in the direction of the garage.
Peter came back in now, shouldering a duffle that must have been in the car overnight. He lugged it back up the stairs, passing the keys to Ambrose on his way down.
Ambrose gave a guilty look at the floor when he noticed Brendan, looking for all the world like a schoolboy in for a scolding.
"Will you ever join us for breakfast?" Brendan said, mild as he could.
Ambrose looked back up.
Kathleen watched in silence as Niamh and Kieran meandered through the shop. The Egan boy had grown so much; he was beginning to look a bit like his father, but his eyes, blue for so long, had taken on the familiar Quigley darkness. Perhaps his hair was darkening as well.
His mother, in one of her smart suits from London, was ducking behind displays to finish her phone call. Kathleen might have been able to catch the edges of such hushed talk three years ago, but her hearing was beginning to dull now. Nothing could be more frustrating.
Finally, her basket full of sandwiches, bottled drinks, and a newspaper, Niamh made her way to the counter, still murmuring. "Look, I have to go; I know it's strange. Will you investigate what this means for the proceedings? Good. Thank you." She tucked the mobile into her purse. "How are you, Kathleen?" She retrieved her wallet now, and Kathleen noticed the ring was gone from her left hand.
Edso Dowling was no Padraig O'Kelly, that much was certain. Watching him pore over the hire car's charred remains, Assumpta couldn't help but imagine that if he'd arrived in town sooner, Niamh's matchmaking whims would have gone full tilt.
The mechanic looked over the open bonnet at her. "Might take more than a cursory once-over to determine if there's any hope," he said. "This was a rental?"
She grimaced and nodded. In the partial daylight streaming into the shop, she could better see the superficial damage. Paint was scorched in several places. A small hole was burnt into the roof, and a damp spot lay below it on the back floor upholstery. A wiper blade had melted in place on the windscreen.
Edso was looking over the battery. "When are they expecting it back?"
"Two more days."
He scoffed, but his eyes were kind.
"Yeah, didn't think so," Assumpta said.
"I'll give them a ring about it," he said. "Will you be needin' a loaner meanwhile?"
Assumpta thought of Fionn. "Just this morning."
Clean and, finally, dressed in some dry clothes, Peter met Oonagh at the front desk, and she handed him the cordless.
He nodded his thanks as she slipped away. "This is Father Clifford?"
Father Randall's voice came though the line. "Have you seen her yet?"
Peter felt his brow sink down in annoyance, his eyes rolling up to meet it. "Are you a parish priest or the village yenta?"
Father Randall laughed. "Things are going along fine here at Luke's, thanks."
The implication wasn't lost on Peter. "Do you really think I should be taking a week off?"
"I think you should be taking whatever time you need," Father Randall said coolly, "until you have the answers."
"I have the answers. There's nothing going on between us, Father."
Palming the phone's mouthpiece, Peter looked up at two sour-faced juveniles peering over the banister.
"Are you talking about the lady who went in your room last night?" asked the girl.
Father Randall laughed again. Peter hung up.
The dog tore after the tennis ball, and Kieran flopped onto the picnic blanket soon as his mother spread it out. "What did we come all the way up here for?"
Niamh pointed to the view from their overlook. "This used to be my father's favourite spot. And the weather was finally nice enough. And we have things we need to talk about."
Kieran picked at a tuft of grass.
"Don't we?" Niamh pressed.
He shrugged. "Things're weird." The tennis ball fell at his feet, and he cast it out again.
Niamh nodded, watching their pet bound down the hill. "I agree." Just tell him. "Kieran..."
He met her eyes.
"The man you met yesterday...did you like him?"
Kieran nodded.
"Well, what if I told you that was your daddy?"
Kieran tilted his head. "I thought my daddy died a long time ago."
"We all thought that. It turns out he hadn't died."
"How could you get that wrong?"
Niamh frowned. "Let me think how to explain it..."
The dog returned, dropping the ball this time for Niamh. Inspiration struck. She picked it up and threw it.
"All right. When I was young, I had a friend whose house caught fire. The family all got out safe, but no one could find the cat. They assumed the cat must have died in the fire, and they were very sad. Then one day, on her way home from school, my friend took her bicycle past the old burnt out house, and she heard a little mew. The cat was above her in a tree. It wasn't dead at all."
"So Daddy wasn't dead all this time, he was just...lost?"
The dog returned again, retiring the ball and curling up alongside Kieran on the blanket.
Niamh felt something catch in her throat. "Exactly."
Frankie reached the door of the pub and tucked the manila envelope under her arm. She straightened her uniform once more before going inside.
Oonagh looked up from the glass she was drying. "Get you anything, Garda?"
Frankie shook her head. Spotting Ambrose at a nearby table with the Kearneys, she made a beeline. He froze in place. So did everyone else.
Dun dun DUN, as Margaux would say.
Also: I must admit, I can't remember if Niamh and Kieran ever named their puppy. Anyone recall? Failing that, I'll entertain any and all suggestions.
More to follow soon!