“I’m not talking to you!” His voice was muffled, either because he was part way through that glass of whiskey or he was hiding tears. After Fee and I danced, and more than one song, I’d caught his gloomy face, sitting at the edge of the crowd and went to make amends.
“You have my most abject apologies,” I said, putting my hands in my pockets to keep from wringing them like some Victorian maiden. Martin was the most easily won over of the Cassidys, firmly in my corner from the beginning and yet he was the one shot.
Because of me.
“You should have been safe. That you were hurt is unforgivable,” I stumbled on.
“Not a word from any of you about how this was intended to turn out?” His watery blue eyes looked up at me. “Eh. Never mind. I know why no one told me. No one ever tells me anything and truth be told I’d rather it be me that’s shot than you or my Fee.”
Sucking in a deep breath, I nodded. “If it makes you feel any better, your graciousness has made me feel terrible guilt forpossibly the first time in my life.”
“Oh?” He lit up, “Well, that’s good then.”
Fintan strolled up, still clutching his bottle of Teelings. “So, amends have been made, then?”
“Yes, Martin graciously forgave me,” I said, eyeing the old man. Though he’d been in the thick of combat and was currently two-thirds of the way through this latest bottle, he was in rather good shape. “I must ask. That enormous implement of death that you used on Lee Ville’s men with impressive results- whatisthat thing?”
He cackled, sounding just a bit like Fee when she did it. “It’s meant to throw the shorn hay into even rows in the field, the wires have to be strong and sharp to cut up the stalks. It’s called a Titter.”
For the first time in my life, I believe I cackled, too.
Alastair waved at me, pointing meaningfully at the six-tiered cake, miraculously still intact on the stand. Noreen nibbled off a corner before someone shooed her away, but one of the caterers hid the chewed spot with some hastily positioned flowers.
“Will you come cut this cake? I deserve something after the day we’ve had,” he complained.
I found Fee chatting with my mother. Kissing her on the cheek, I said, “Mother, first, my sincere apologies for not doing this much earlier today, but may I introduce you to my wife and your daughter-in-law, Fee Cassidy-Davies?” I turned to Fee. “I assumed we would hyphenate.”
“You would be correct, Alec Cassidy-Davies.”
My mother looked no worse for wear, maybe a smudge or two on her Chanel suit but nothing that distracted from how beautiful she was. “Lovely to meet you, Fee,” she said. “A bit after the fact, but certainly welcome nonetheless. Perhaps one day my son will choose to enlighten me as to how all this came about?”
Laughing, I gave her a gentle hug. “It would take much longer than one day to explain it all.”
“More like a decade,” Fee mumbled.
“But perhaps we’ll have more time to talk. We can visit you in Tuscany, or maybe you’d like to spend more time in London?”
Her eyes glittered, but Mother nodded. “I’d like that. I’ve been talking to some of the guests. Quite the group.”
Every muscle in my body tightened to steel. “Hashebeen bothering you?”
“No dear,” she squeezed my arm. “He said hello as Elspeth introduced herself and then kept his distance. She’s quite a fascinating character, we’ve spent most of the afternoon after the… unpleasantness complaining about our children. Quite enjoyable to know there are worse sons than you.”
“I am deeply wounded,” I put my hand to my tattered tuxedo shirt. “But since we have to cut the cake before Alastair buries his face in it, I’ll ignore your harsh words.”
Kissing my cheek, she smiled up at me. “I could not be happier to be here. To see you in love with such a fine, and…” she winked at Fee, “such a fierce woman. You’ve met your match.”
The cake - made with dark and white free-trade chocolate - was cut, bites fed to each other and the caterer attempted to serve pieces far away from Noreen’s nibbled edge. But trying to keep her and that ram boyfriend of hers away was proving impossible, so the caterer finally gave up and slapped the entire second layer onto two china plates and put them on the ground for the goats.
Fee nor I would ever wish to have our faces shoved into our wedding cake, but Noreen was all for it.
Kyle, his arm in a sling after dislocating his shoulder in that fall, handedme a burner phone.
“Saluti, Dario.”
“Saluti.It’s done.” His voice was light and amused, as if assassinating the Don of the Bonadonna Mafia was all in a day’s work. Of course, as the second in command of the Toscano assassins, it was. “I will tell you that we were quite hurt not to be invited to your wedding, but given the circumstances…”
“Your discretion is appreciated,” I said, “the funds should be in your account by now.”
