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“My dad’s,” she said. “He gave me the one that broke a month before he died.”
Niall’s heart plummeted and his face blanched. “I broke your dad’s camera? God, Cordelia, I’m so – ”
She held up a hand. “It’s fixable. I’m taking it to my local shop when I get back. And I think we’ve said enough sorrys, haven’t we?” She tapped on the camera with her fingernail. “You were right,” she admitted. “I did step in your way. I’m always adjusting myself to put things in the right frame. It drives Liz crazy. My best friend,” she explained but Niall was still stuck on the part where he’d broken her dead father’s camera. “We’ll go out for drinks or have coffee in Central Park and I’m always tilting my head or scooching to the left so that her face is in perfect composition with the background. Like, even just a moment ago, I moved a little so that the greenish brown light from those bottles fills the negative space and the line of the mirror frames you on the right-hand side.” She shrugged. “Can’t help myself, I guess.”
“Can I – pay for the repair or . . .” His voice trailed off.
“No, it’s okay. Really,” she said when she saw his doubtful look. “I mean, if it couldn’t be fixed that would be another story.”
“If it couldn’t be fixed, I’d jump off the cliffs of Dún Aengus,” Niall said.
“Róisín took me there!” Cordelia exclaimed. “It was nice. Really crowded, though. What was the one Alison had mentioned?”
Niall felt his face snap shut. “Dún Dúchathair,” he said tightly. The memories that came with those ruins weren’t ones he wanted to recall now, not on this night, when he was finally having fun.
Cordelia seemed to sense his shift in mood. She picked up her camera and busied herself in the photos. Then the music started up again.
“Niall!” Shauna called from the other end of the bar, gesturing for him to help her with the customers.
“Right, I’d better get back to it,” he said.
“Okay,” she replied.
As he walked away, Niall felt as if the floor was shifting beneath his feet, each step uncertain where it might land.
Chapter Ten
That Sunday during dinner, Niall’s father finally started speaking to him again.
It was just the four of them this week – Alison had called and said she and Cordelia were having dinner at Róisín’s.
“I’ve been thinking,” Eoin said, cutting into his chicken while Pocket sat patiently by his chair, waiting for scraps. He paused for so long Colin and Niall exchanged a glance.
“About?” Niall asked.
“Pátrún,” Eoin said. Fiona seemed very interested in her champ all of a sudden, pushing the mashed potatoes around on her plate. Niall’s eyes narrowed.
“What about Pátrún?” he asked.
“Well, we’ve been thinking – ” Eoin glanced at Fiona and her nostrils flared. “I’ve been thinking,” he corrected himself. “That maybe . . . in addition to our usual fare . . . we could serve up something special for the occasion. Something, you know . . .” He gestured with one hand and Pocket followed the movement with laser-like focus.
“Something . . . ?” Niall prodded, unsure exactly what was going on here.
“One of your fusion things. Dishes. Whatever.” Eoin said the word fusion like it was a curse. Fiona looked pleased. Niall was stunned.
“Oh,” he said after a moment. “Sure. That’d be grand.”
“Right. Well.” Now that the big talk was over, Eoin was eager to get back to his food. “There you go, you little beggar,” he said to Pocket, holding out a piece of chicken. She devoured it in half a second and turned to Niall expectantly. “But you’ll run the recipe by me first,” Eoin said.
“Course,” Niall said. “No problem.”
Colin raised an eyebrow and Niall shrugged. He was as surprised as anyone.
He should thank Cordelia. Whenever he saw her again.
Niall woke up the next morning and, for the first time in months, he felt like cooking.
“Got any plans this evening?” he asked Colin as he poured himself a cup of coffee. Both of them were off that day and Colin was sitting at the island picking out a new song while Pocket eyed his bacon.
