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“Saoirse—that’s a good Irish name.”
Saoirse felt herself blush. “Yes, Father. My grandfather emigrated from Ireland. I like it a lot more now than I did as a kid but I still have to spell it all the time.”
“That you would,” he agreed. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Arthur talks about you all the time. Says you’ll be a very fine attorney.”
It was startling to hear from another person. She’d always thought she and Arthur got along well but hadn’t thought more of it than that, especially after he and her mother had gotten divorced. He’d move on, she’d move on, and neither of them would think of each other much.
Except apparently Arthur had thought about her quite a bit. That made her feel self-conscious but also smugly pleased. She was important to him. And he thought she was capable of being a good lawyer. The second-hand praise made her sinuses burn.
“Nice to meet you too. I don’t want to keep you,” she said as she tilted her head to the side where there was still a line behind them, “but I did enjoy the service. The congregation seems more lively than it did when Father Eugene was here.”
The corner of Father Gideon’s mouth tipped up, and he ducked his head conspiratorially. “My official response is that Father Eugene was exceptionally devoted to the members of his church and we’re all grateful for his service. Unofficially, I’ve heard there’s been a lot less snoring in the past few years.”
Saoirse covered her mouth to stifle her laugh and Father Gideon grinned. She took hold of Arthur’s hand again as the men said their goodbyes and then contentedly let Arthur steer her through the bustling crowd.
Yes, Father Gideon was handsome and much closer to her age but in her heart there was no comparison to Arthur—her daddy. There had never been anyone else she’d felt as comfortable with, peeling back her onion layers to reveal her most vulnerable center. Which made her feel guilty for what she wasn’t telling Arthur, but she’d enjoy what she had for now.
