I stand there in awe, my jaw slack, and my mother shoots me one of those looks to stop gawking.
But I can’t help it. It’sstunning. I love it. It’s the kind of house that makes you want to play hide-and-seek, or go set up a tripod in the front yard and take pictures or paint.
It makes me want to throw my hands in the air and spin like some idiot in a fairy tale. Just to take it all in, the majesty of it.
“Thank you so much,” Caitlin says. “My mother-in-law, Maeve, God rest her soul, took such good care of the place.” She smiles at me. “You know, Cavin's out in the garden. Maybe he could show you around?”
Cavin. Why Cavin? Doesn’t she have like five or six other children who could do the job? Why do I have to be alone with my high school tormentor?
I can still hear the way he’d mock me, the sneer in his tone, not even bothering to hide his open disdain.
“Careful, Little Miss Perfect, you might trip on your own thoughts.”
“That would be lovely,” I say with a polite smile. “But you don’t have to do that—I don’t want to invade your privacy.”
“Wouldn’t be an invasion at all,” she says, smiling slyly. “Especially with our arrangement.”
Arrangement?
Whatarrangement?
My stomach drops. My hands go ice cold. I press them flat against my thighs to stop them from shaking.
What did they agree to without telling me?
She smiles and turns toward the door.
I give my mother a sharp look, but she won’t meet my eyes.
Ourarrangement? What the hell is she talking about?
My father clears his throat just as a distinguished man in a charcoal-gray suit rounds the corner. I can tell he was handsome once, probably a heartbreaker in his day. Silver hair now, but his face still carries the evidence: deep smile lines around his eyes, posture like an old soldier, quiet authority.
“Welcome,” he says warmly. “Pleased to meet you, Erin. Keenan McCarthy.”
I’ve heard of this family. Their history’s become part of Ballyhock lore for generations. How Keenan found Caitlin, the lighthouse keeper’s daughter, and took her as his own. How his father’s death left him seated on the throne as leader of the clan until he retired. I wonder why.
And I wonder why the McCarthys seem so damn happy to see me?
“Pleased to meet you, sir,” I say, nodding, taking his hand.
I know how to play the good girl. Don’t know how to shut off the constant buzz of anxiety, but I can fake it, at least for a little while.
He escorts us into a sprawling reception room. Staff in uniform hold trays delicately in gloved hands.
There are so manypeople.
My stomach flips until I spot Bronwyn.
She has to be the youngest. She looks… approachable. Kind, even. When our eyes meet, she offers a broad smile and a little wave.
Just like that, I can breathe a little easier again.
She’s standing next to another woman though. And that one? Not so friendly.
I try to piece it together.
Seamus McCarthy is easy to spot. Everyone knows him, the man they call The Undertaker.
