Was Hugh to believe that a bad relationship that had been over for years still affected him? It seemed impossible, but he promised himself to explore the possibility. He still believed Rowan was too young for him, but he also admitted that he was past the point of caring. There was no living without her.
Watching her now, he could see that Rowan was trying to hide her hurt and anger, but her blank stare hid little from him. He’d done nothing but watch and study this woman for months on end. Changing the subject, he asked, “Do you have any lingering pain?” He gestured under his left pectoral in case she didn’t know he was asking about the gunshot wound.
“I still have to be careful of running too many miles.”
“Should you see a doctor? For a checkup.”
Rowan’s eyes narrowed. She probably thought he was trying to manage her, but that wasn’t it at all. He woke up panicked at least once a night, reliving the nightmare of finding out she’d been shot.
Rowan took a deep breath, choosing not to answer him, she confessed, “Listen, Hugh, I’ve found a man who isn’t embarrassed to be seen with me. I want to see where it goes, and I want you to stay out of my way.”
Rowan stepped aside and motioned for him to leave her room. As soon as he was in the hallway, she stepped back into the bedroom and shut the door in his face.
I’ve found a man who isn’t embarrassed to be seen with me.Is that how he’d made her feel? Like an embarrassment? Jesus, how could she not see that she was the one who should have been embarrassed to be seen with him?
Hugh walked silently to the front door, needing to put some space between him and Rowan. “Hugh. A moment, please,” his mother said from behind him.
He paused with his hand on the door. “Did Jonathan and I raise a quitter?”
Hugh felt his shoulders stiffen. “No.”
“I didn’t think so. Goodnight, Son.”
11
Matilda was waiting for her in the living room where Rowan worked on the armoire. It had taken her a bit to get her emotions under control from the Hugh skirmish. A shower and comfy pajamas had done wonders, as did the refreshment table. A bottle of Glenmorangie 25 set on the sideboard for Rowan. The luxe copper label of Matilda's Absolut Elyx made a showy statement beside it, and a pitcher of ice-cold lemon water finished the trio. She explained that lemon water was so they could pretend they were health conscious while pickling their livers.
An hour passed in companionable silence. Rowan finished the last side panel in a cobalt fabric that had tiny white flowers sprinkled on the surface. She gave it a puffy quilted look using the batting she’d picked up from the hobby store earlier.
Once that was finished, Rowan started adjusting this bit and that bauble. Tilting photographs until they were perfect. Securing a Christmas ornament that Hugh had made his mother in the second grade. Another hour passed before she made the last paint touch-up. Rowan sat back on her heels to admire her work.
While she fiddled with one last wire, she told Matilda, “The boutique is definitely ahead of schedule if you can believe it. Two of the contractors are working all weekend because they have other jobs they want to get to, which works great for my client and for me. It’s going to be stunning when it’s finished. I took a ton of before pictures. The after pictures will make a hell of an impression on our website. River is dying to get her hands on them.” Rowan laughed.
Her tech-savvy sister lived for website updates, posts, and generating interest in their designs on social media. Eventually, River would have to slow down as her pregnancy progresses, as Raven did, which would mean more work for Raven and Rowan. A new niece or nephew was so worth it, though.
“I’m thrilled because that means I can wrap things up faster than I initially planned and get home to my precious Daniel,” she laughed. “Oh, and my sisters too.”
Raven had asked her and River once if they minded her son being named after their late father. Rowan had understood her hesitation. Thinking about a name and saying that name out loud were two very different things. However, they all agreed that it would have been an honor for their dad. He would have been thrilled, which meant his daughters were thrilled.
“Your sweet nephew will be so happy to have his Auntie back. After all that Delton business and traveling for so many months, I’d like to take a moment to relax here at home, but I plan to move to my apartment in Dublin by mid-September. That way, I can attend River’s baby shower and have a few weeks to help get anything else Patrick and your sister might need before the birth. Diana will come by the end of October. She told me her plans this afternoon.
“What is going on that wall?” Matilda walked up behind Rowan with a fresh glass of lemon water and pointed to the blue cloth with its sprinkling of flowers. “It’s a lovely pattern.”
Matilda had a very similar aesthetic to her older sister, River. Simple lines with hints of blue, and Rowan found it had been easy to create the pleasing palette for the armoire.
“That,” Rowan smiled as she accepted the glass, “Is a space for great-grandchildren. I used the batting to make it easy for you to tack pictures. I even bought pretty jewel-tipped tacks for you. The loose wire is so you can use tiny clips to hang things. Like a laundry clothesline,” Rowan explained.
“You’ve got to stop making me so emotional all the time, or I’ll have to kick you out,” Matilda laughed.
Rowan hopped up and went over to search through her ‘bags of bits,’ as her mother used to call the overflow from her daughters’ projects, and found the pins, tacks, and clips. She dug out a mini clothespin and handed it to Matilda, along with a picture of her holding her great-grandson, Daniel.
“You hang the first one. I’m sure this space will fill up sooner than you think, but the great thing is you can change things around because it isn’t permanent,” Rowan explained.
“Oh, lovely. I would have never thought of adding something for new memories. Very clever, young lady,” Matilda gleamed as she hung the first picture. “I wish Jon was here to see what you’ve done.” Matilda kept her back to Rowan, staring at the memoryscape before her, running her hand around the wedding painting’s frame.
“I miss you, my love,” she whispered. “So damn much.”
Rowan turned away quickly, surreptitiously dabbing her eyes while she picked up and set down a glue gun and bottle of paint. She turned around, though, when Matilda spoke.
