sure she isn’t devastated by this terrible event. But I promise I’ll be back later and give yeh the whole story, or as much as I know.”
Althea laid a hand on Harry’s arm. “Oh, please do come back later. I really want to talk to you.”
“How could I pass up the chance to talk with such a lovely American? You’ll be here at Sullivan’s?”
“You could meet me at the hotel in Skibbereen,” Althea suggested quickly.
“After I’ve promised to tell the tale to my good friends here?” Harry replied, ducking her implied invitation neatly. “I’ll be back after I’ve tucked Aunt Eveline in for the night, count on it. Maura Donovan, it’s a pleasure to meet you as well. Ta!”
He made his exit, watched by every woman in the room. Althea’s expression was a bit calculating, as if she were already plotting some strategy, while Rose sighed. Maura could see why. Harry certainly had charm, and she suspected that he probably could sweet-talk any woman he met. Even without having met Miss Eveline, Maura could picture the elderly aunt doting on this handsome nephew.
But Harry had avoided Althea’s obvious come-on. Maybe he had some brains to go with those undeniable good looks . . .
Stop it, Maura!
She scolded herself. Her life was complicated enough right now without someone like Harry Townsend in it. Besides, why would someone like him even look at her? He probably had a string of women waiting for him back in Dublin, and he’d be going back there as soon as he’d taken care of things here, which shouldn’t take him long.
Mick Nolan and Jimmy Sweeney came in together from the back, arguing about something, but they stopped talking when they noticed Maura. Jimmy turned to Rose. “Goin’ to be a busy night, Rosie, love. Why don’t you go home and see to supper? We’ve got this covered.”
Maura expected Rose to whine “Do I have to?” but instead she agreed quickly. “You’ll stop by to eat, Da?”
“I will. Take care, love.”
Althea had watched the exchange, and after Rose left and Mick and Jimmy moved on, she asked Maura, “Just how old is that kid?”
“Sixteen going on twenty-five. Jimmy’s her dad. Her mom’s dead, so it’s just the two of them.”
“Is she even legal to work here?”
“There are rules, I gather, but there’s some kind of loophole if you’re a relative, and she and Jimmy are related somehow to the former owner. Besides, she’s finished whatever the local version of high school is. Jimmy’s worked here since long before I showed up. So has Mick.”
“And now you’re the owner? How’d that happen?”
“It’s complicated.” Maura waved a hand. “Basically, I inherited the place from an old friend of my grandmother’s. She came from around here originally.” She didn’t want to get into all the details.
“Got it. And that gorgeous guy was Harry Townsend?”
“So it seems. I haven’t met him before.”
“Married? Attached?”
“How am I supposed to know? Why? You think if you find your painting, you can marry your way to it?”
“It’s a thought,” Althea quipped. “So, I got some food. Mind if I eat it here?”
“Go right ahead. I’m going to go out and find something myself, plus I need the fresh air. It may be a long night. People will come in to talk about the murder. At least the local people will. I pity any tourists who walk into the middle of it—they’ll get an earful.”
Mick came up behind Maura, and Maura asked, “Have you met Althea?” He shook his head, so she introduced them. “I saw you in passing,” Mick said.
“Fáilte.”
When Althea looked confused, Mick added, “That’s ‘welcome’ in Irish. You’ll hear it a lot.”
“Well, thank you, Mick. Maura, I’m beginning to like this place—lots of handsome men. So, Mick, is this part of the world your home?”
She’s flirting again,
Maura thought in amusement. Was Althea man-crazy or just working any angle that might get her into Mycroft House? She’d
Althea laid a hand on Harry’s arm. “Oh, please do come back later. I really want to talk to you.”
“How could I pass up the chance to talk with such a lovely American? You’ll be here at Sullivan’s?”
“You could meet me at the hotel in Skibbereen,” Althea suggested quickly.
“After I’ve promised to tell the tale to my good friends here?” Harry replied, ducking her implied invitation neatly. “I’ll be back after I’ve tucked Aunt Eveline in for the night, count on it. Maura Donovan, it’s a pleasure to meet you as well. Ta!”
He made his exit, watched by every woman in the room. Althea’s expression was a bit calculating, as if she were already plotting some strategy, while Rose sighed. Maura could see why. Harry certainly had charm, and she suspected that he probably could sweet-talk any woman he met. Even without having met Miss Eveline, Maura could picture the elderly aunt doting on this handsome nephew.
But Harry had avoided Althea’s obvious come-on. Maybe he had some brains to go with those undeniable good looks . . .
Stop it, Maura!
She scolded herself. Her life was complicated enough right now without someone like Harry Townsend in it. Besides, why would someone like him even look at her? He probably had a string of women waiting for him back in Dublin, and he’d be going back there as soon as he’d taken care of things here, which shouldn’t take him long.
Mick Nolan and Jimmy Sweeney came in together from the back, arguing about something, but they stopped talking when they noticed Maura. Jimmy turned to Rose. “Goin’ to be a busy night, Rosie, love. Why don’t you go home and see to supper? We’ve got this covered.”
Maura expected Rose to whine “Do I have to?” but instead she agreed quickly. “You’ll stop by to eat, Da?”
“I will. Take care, love.”
Althea had watched the exchange, and after Rose left and Mick and Jimmy moved on, she asked Maura, “Just how old is that kid?”
“Sixteen going on twenty-five. Jimmy’s her dad. Her mom’s dead, so it’s just the two of them.”
“Is she even legal to work here?”
“There are rules, I gather, but there’s some kind of loophole if you’re a relative, and she and Jimmy are related somehow to the former owner. Besides, she’s finished whatever the local version of high school is. Jimmy’s worked here since long before I showed up. So has Mick.”
“And now you’re the owner? How’d that happen?”
“It’s complicated.” Maura waved a hand. “Basically, I inherited the place from an old friend of my grandmother’s. She came from around here originally.” She didn’t want to get into all the details.
“Got it. And that gorgeous guy was Harry Townsend?”
“So it seems. I haven’t met him before.”
“Married? Attached?”
“How am I supposed to know? Why? You think if you find your painting, you can marry your way to it?”
“It’s a thought,” Althea quipped. “So, I got some food. Mind if I eat it here?”
“Go right ahead. I’m going to go out and find something myself, plus I need the fresh air. It may be a long night. People will come in to talk about the murder. At least the local people will. I pity any tourists who walk into the middle of it—they’ll get an earful.”
Mick came up behind Maura, and Maura asked, “Have you met Althea?” He shook his head, so she introduced them. “I saw you in passing,” Mick said.
“Fáilte.”
When Althea looked confused, Mick added, “That’s ‘welcome’ in Irish. You’ll hear it a lot.”
“Well, thank you, Mick. Maura, I’m beginning to like this place—lots of handsome men. So, Mick, is this part of the world your home?”
She’s flirting again,
Maura thought in amusement. Was Althea man-crazy or just working any angle that might get her into Mycroft House? She’d
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