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“You guys could run it.”
“No,” they both said at once. “We talked about it, and we don’t want to be tied down like that. We like working outdoors.”
“Braydon—”
“Bray’s got his architecture firm. And Finn will never give up his share of the Lumberyard, just like you. Alec just opened a new practice in town. And Colin’s got too much going on with the church and school board. And Kate and Ant aren’t interested.”
“There is one other option,” Tristan said, his expression setting Ryan up for a long shot.
Luke rolled his eyes. “That’s not an option.”
Ryan looked at them expectantly. “Who? Tell me.” Their family was simply too large for there not to be someone willing to take over the stress of running the pub.
“Giovanni.”
The garage silenced and Ryan waited for the punch line. It didn’t come. “Are you out of your mind?”
“I said the same thing,” Luke commented.
“What? The guy’s family. He could care less about Paulie’s portion of the lumberyard. Maybe he’d want the pub.”
“He’s a Mosconi!” Ryan snapped.
“So? Aunt Col’s a Mosconi, too, and she ran the bar until Kelly took over.”
“By marriage. It’s different. Giovanni walks around like he’s an extra on the Sopranos.”
“Those track suits are the worst. He’d change the name from O’Malley’s to Mosconi’s or Little Italy or something.”
“He’d change everything,” Ryan agreed. “Giovanni’s a definite no.”
Tristan shrugged. “It was just a thought.”
“We’ll think of someone else,” Ryan said, just as Aunt Maureen yelled that dinner was ready.
Inside the big house, they washed up from work and gathered around the large table in the cavernous kitchen.
“Smells great,” Ryan complimented, settling in beside Sheilagh.
“Where’s Alec?” Aunt Maureen asked.
Sheilagh filled a bowl for Alexia. “He had a late appointment today. He should be here soon.”
“Oh, I wonder who it was.” Aunt Maureen ladled one bowl of stew after another. “He sure keeps busy with his new practice. Who knew we had so many touched people in our town.”
“They’re not touched, Mum. They just want to talk to someone.”
“Of course, dear.” She ladled out a hearty helping and slid it in front of Uncle Frank. “Do you think he’s getting some juicy gossip? I bet he knows who’s sleeping with who and what secrets everyone’s keepin’. He’ll probably be the first to know who defaced the old Windsor Bridge. I honestly don’t know what possesses someone to graffiti a six-foot penis on a perfectly charming bridge. Deviants.”
“Maybe it was Kelly. He said he wanted to get into self-portraits.” Luke snickered.
Without missing a beat, Aunt Maureen smacked Luke on the back of the head. “Honestly, Luke.”
Ryan laughed, always enjoying when his aunt whacked her biggest son.
“Mum, don’t say words like that in front of Alexia,” Sheilagh scolded.
Aunt Maureen paused. “Words like what?”
Sheilagh looked up at her. “Like what you just said.”
Aunt Maureen gasped. “Oh dear, did I say cock?”
“Mum!”
“You said penis,” Luke provided, still rubbing his head.
“Luke!”
He flinched, ducking a swat from his sister. “What? She would have just kept guessing.”
“Well, when Alexia starts repeating words for male genitals you can all blame yourselves.”
Tristan helped himself to a second serving. “When did you become such a prude, Sheilagh?”
“It’s because she’s married to a Brit,” Aunt Maureen mumbled. “The British are notorious for their dirty minds and clean manners. But really they’re just a collection of blue blooded perverts.”
“Mum, you can’t say stuff like that!”
“It’s my house. I’ll say whatever I want. And try to deny it. I’ve walked in on Alec more times than I’d like to recall. I could pick his wanker out of a lineup. Can I say wanker, dear, or is that too crass for Alexia’s ears?”
There was never a dull moment at his aunt’s house. Dinner was delicious and Ryan appreciated the excuse not to have pizza again.
Alec arrived just as Aunt Maureen was dishing out her famous rice pudding for dessert.
“Well, it’s about time,” she greeted, shoving her son-in-law into a chair and filling a bowl of stew for him. “Eat up before the others finish all the dessert.”
No matter how many years Alec had been living on the mountain with the McCulloughs, he always appeared slightly harassed by Aunt Maureen’s brash mannerisms, which made it fun to watch. Accepting the bowl of stew, he set it aside and went to his wife who had started washing dishes at the sink. He hugged her with bone deep affection.
She turned and looked up at him. “Everything okay?”
“For the last hour, I could think of nothing more than coming home and telling you how much I love you.”
Sheilagh smiled up at her husband. “Aw, babe.”
“I was thinking,” he said, giving her chin an affectionate bump with his finger, “that Jeep you like, the hideous yellow one, let’s sign the papers tomorrow.”
Her face lit with a stunned smile. “Really? I thought you hated it.”
“Truly. And I do.”
