decide whether to write to Gloria or send you away to a convent,” she said, patting her sister's dark head.
“Ha, ha,” Layla said, narrowing her eyes. She stuck out her lower lip and stared at her roll, appearing suddenly to have lost all her appetite.
“A BOWL OF
ABGUSHT
for Father Mahoney lamb kebab for Mrs. Boylan,” Bahar said, backpedaling into the kitchen with the dregs of what had been a Persian chicken salad. She placed the empty bowl next to the chopping block and stuck the order to the carousel.
“And that Englishman's back,” she said. “Takeout order for the morning.”
Marjan looked up from the stove, her heart pounding.
“He asked for you again,” Bahar added, her eyebrows raised.
Marjan wiped her hands on her apron and walked to the double doors. She could see Julian Winthrop Muir standing at the Donnelly twins' table, his fists in the pockets of his tawny jacket. All three were laughing at something he had just said.
Bahar sniffed as she set out two bowls on an empty tray. “Between you and Layla, I'm surprised this place is running at all.” She scowled and took off her polka-dot apron.
Marjan wiped her hands on a tea towel and patted her ponytail. “Is it three o'clock already?”
“Nearly. I need a few more minutes today.” Bahar slipped intoher coat and turned to her older sister, who was still staring out the kitchen doors. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” Marjan replied as casually as possible, giving a slight shrug. She returned to the stove and lifted the lid of the eggplant stew, adding a pinch of black pepper. She made an effort to keep her hand steady but didn't quite pull it off.
Bahar came around to the stove, making sure not to get too close to the burners. She tilted her head, a sign of an oncoming interrogation.
“Who is this guy anyway?”
“I don't know. A visitor, I think.”
Bahar sniffed. “I heard he's some rich landlord's son, thinks really highly of himself and all.”
Marjan stirred the eggplant stew, placed the lid back on the stockpot. “And where did you get this piece of news?”
“Fadden's. Danny said his family used to own most of the land around Ballinacroagh. He's probably looking to own it all again.”
“Honestly, why do you always look at the dark side of things first?”
“What do you mean, ‘dark side’?” Bahar said, looking thoroughly offended. “Why am I suddenly the bad guy?”
Marjan sighed. “I didn't mean it that way.” Bahar stared at her. “Look, forget I said it. It's just that sometimes you have to give people a chance. They might surprise you with their goodness.”
Bahar snorted. “I don't know what fairy tale you're coming from, but that's not how the real world works. You know that as well as I do, Marjan.”
Point taken, thought Marjan. She fell silent as she watched her sister open the back door and step into the garden. It was not until she was fully over the threshold that Bahar opened her large plaid umbrella against the falling rain.
Superstitious as always, thought Marjan, shaking her head. She patted her tidy ponytail again. Reaching for the strings on her apron, she tightened them to give her waist nice definition. Her heart leapt again as she swung through the double doors. Passing Father Mahoney and Mrs. Boylan's table, she paused for the priest's assessment of the day's special (“I'll be having the barberry hen for my last supper, you can count on it!”) before making her way to the Donnelly twins and Julian. The three men were still laughing but quieted down as soon as they saw her.
“Top of the mornin' to ya,” Julian said, tweaking an imaginary cap at her. His blond hair was combed back, Marjan noticed, revealing his strong, clean-cut jaw. “Or should I say afternoon.”
“Hello there,” she replied with a smile. “Are you staying for tea?”
“Just stopping to place a breakfast order. The lads on site can't get enough of those marvelous pastries, the baklava you've got
“Ha, ha,” Layla said, narrowing her eyes. She stuck out her lower lip and stared at her roll, appearing suddenly to have lost all her appetite.
“A BOWL OF
ABGUSHT
for Father Mahoney lamb kebab for Mrs. Boylan,” Bahar said, backpedaling into the kitchen with the dregs of what had been a Persian chicken salad. She placed the empty bowl next to the chopping block and stuck the order to the carousel.
“And that Englishman's back,” she said. “Takeout order for the morning.”
Marjan looked up from the stove, her heart pounding.
“He asked for you again,” Bahar added, her eyebrows raised.
Marjan wiped her hands on her apron and walked to the double doors. She could see Julian Winthrop Muir standing at the Donnelly twins' table, his fists in the pockets of his tawny jacket. All three were laughing at something he had just said.
Bahar sniffed as she set out two bowls on an empty tray. “Between you and Layla, I'm surprised this place is running at all.” She scowled and took off her polka-dot apron.
Marjan wiped her hands on a tea towel and patted her ponytail. “Is it three o'clock already?”
“Nearly. I need a few more minutes today.” Bahar slipped intoher coat and turned to her older sister, who was still staring out the kitchen doors. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” Marjan replied as casually as possible, giving a slight shrug. She returned to the stove and lifted the lid of the eggplant stew, adding a pinch of black pepper. She made an effort to keep her hand steady but didn't quite pull it off.
Bahar came around to the stove, making sure not to get too close to the burners. She tilted her head, a sign of an oncoming interrogation.
“Who is this guy anyway?”
“I don't know. A visitor, I think.”
Bahar sniffed. “I heard he's some rich landlord's son, thinks really highly of himself and all.”
Marjan stirred the eggplant stew, placed the lid back on the stockpot. “And where did you get this piece of news?”
“Fadden's. Danny said his family used to own most of the land around Ballinacroagh. He's probably looking to own it all again.”
“Honestly, why do you always look at the dark side of things first?”
“What do you mean, ‘dark side’?” Bahar said, looking thoroughly offended. “Why am I suddenly the bad guy?”
Marjan sighed. “I didn't mean it that way.” Bahar stared at her. “Look, forget I said it. It's just that sometimes you have to give people a chance. They might surprise you with their goodness.”
Bahar snorted. “I don't know what fairy tale you're coming from, but that's not how the real world works. You know that as well as I do, Marjan.”
Point taken, thought Marjan. She fell silent as she watched her sister open the back door and step into the garden. It was not until she was fully over the threshold that Bahar opened her large plaid umbrella against the falling rain.
Superstitious as always, thought Marjan, shaking her head. She patted her tidy ponytail again. Reaching for the strings on her apron, she tightened them to give her waist nice definition. Her heart leapt again as she swung through the double doors. Passing Father Mahoney and Mrs. Boylan's table, she paused for the priest's assessment of the day's special (“I'll be having the barberry hen for my last supper, you can count on it!”) before making her way to the Donnelly twins and Julian. The three men were still laughing but quieted down as soon as they saw her.
“Top of the mornin' to ya,” Julian said, tweaking an imaginary cap at her. His blond hair was combed back, Marjan noticed, revealing his strong, clean-cut jaw. “Or should I say afternoon.”
“Hello there,” she replied with a smile. “Are you staying for tea?”
“Just stopping to place a breakfast order. The lads on site can't get enough of those marvelous pastries, the baklava you've got
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