Faye did a quick scan of their plans for the day. Like a typical teenager, Maeve wasn’t even up when Faye and Molly left the house. William was having breakfast with Thomas—a regular Saturday outing for them since Jean died—then he was supposed to run errands, which could mean early afternoon before he was home. It was past eleven now. “No one’s home so he should be around here somewhere,” Faye said with as much cheer as she could muster.
“You’re a funny little thing,” Glenda said to Molly. Her husky tone was stilted and shouty, as if Molly were hard of hearing or thick in thehead. “And those sure are odd-looking sandals. You don’t look one bit Chinese.” She winked at Faye like they shared a secret.
Faye gripped Molly’s hand. “We have to get going. Nice bumping into you.”
“I’m in the parade,” Molly said, as if that explained her vaguely oriental shoes.
“I’ll watch for you. Throw me candy if you see me.”
Faye wanted to get away from this woman, this conversation. She wanted to check on Maeve. But Molly pulled her arm, and Glenda stood there, not catching the hint. “Irish step,” Faye said, exasperated. “Her class is performing tomorrow. I don’t think they’ll be giving out candy.” It came out wrong, like she was talking to a child.
Glenda looked at Faye like she was the dumb one. “I can get my own candy, you know.”
“Right, right,” Faye said, eager to end this. “Okay, well then. You take care.”
Glenda’s face soured as they snuck past her.
Molly, miffed they had to leave in a rush, huffed all the way home, right up to when they pulled into the driveway. A black car with racing stripes was there. William’s wagon was not. Faye didn’t bother grabbing her bags or holding the door for Molly. She ran to the house, pulled the screen door, cursing that the paint stuck in the humidity.
Conor O’Kane sat at the kitchen table, an open can of beer in his hand. “Finally,” he said. “I wondered when you were coming home.”
“Why are you here? Where’s Maeve?”
“Hello to you too. She came downstairs a while ago. I don’t think she was too happy to see me.” He wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “It’s hot in here. Helped myself to a beer. Don’t you have fans? And why are you lot never here when I come by? I always have to let myself in.”
Faye scrunched her face, confused. “Have you been in our house before? You can’t just walk into someone else’s home!”
Molly burst in, jabbering about wanting to go back to town. She stopped in her tracks behind Faye.
“There’s the little sweetheart!” O’Kane said. “Come sit with your Uncle Con.” He patted the spot next to him. Molly dipped her head, glowered over a pinched brow like she was casting a spell, turning a toad into a smaller toad.
“Go upstairs and find your sister. Go on.” Faye nudged Molly, but she bounced back into her hip, drawn like a magnet to steel. She spread her legs, crossed her arms. She wasn’t budging.
O’Kane guffawed a lungful of cigarette smoke. “Ah, well, she reminds me of someone I used to know. Will you look at that! Even her little mouth is sealed shut.”
“I saw Glenda in town,” Faye said, ignoring his comment. “She’s waiting for you. You should go.”
O’Kane pushed himself up like it was a great burden. “Was hoping to talk to William, and your—well, and Thomas too. I’ve a sort of investment opportunity.”
She wished she could get rid of him for good. When she’d heard about the bar fight, she had secretly hoped it had been debilitating. When he flew to Ireland, she’d been ashamed of herself for thinking about the plane crashing. He brought out the worst in her. More than a thorn in her side or a pebble in her shoe. He was a bullet loaded into a gun, a lit fuse. She did not believe he wouldn’t crack eventually, his very presence a reminder that she’d blown the opportunity to come clean with William herself. He was a threat, simple and true.
“Jesus, will you stop staring at me!” O’Kane said. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you might have a thing for me. Little too late to get the ride, don’t you think?”
Faye shivered her thoughts away, hardened herself. She didn’t want him to get the best of her. “I’ll alert William and my father that you have returned to town after a long absence with a money-making scheme I’m certain they shall not want to miss. Now, if you don’t mind ...”
“Well, happy Independence Day to you and to your beautiful family, Fiadh.”
She stifled the urge to bare her teeth, to roar like a lion. Instead, she smiled sweetly, watched him retreat until the car was gone from the driveway, out of sight. Only then did she unclench, taking the stairs as quickly as possible. “Maeve!”
The bedroom door flew open. Maeve, in bell-bottom jeans and a blue checkered crop top, fumed.
“Mom! What took you so long? That guy was sitting there when I came down. I was in my nightgown!” she wailed. “I didn’t see him and I walked into the kitchen, and he didn’t say anything and then I came out and about had a heart attack. He was like, ‘Do you remember me? You threw your dirty underpants at my face. I’m your long-lost Uncle Conor.’ I mean, Mom! Why would I remember him? God! I wanted to ride into town, but I couldn’t, I was so scared. So, I sat up here. Dressed. Waiting for him to leave. Nothing to do. What is wrong with that guy?”
Faye could not land on a proper answer. The worst thing about him was that he acted like something had been taken from him, that he was owed something he’d never received. It was infuriating that he’d stumbled upon this life of hers and had nothing to offer except his silence. She couldn’t figure out what it was that he wanted in return. How could Jean have let him into their life? And for how long would Faye have to keep up this charade?
“Mom! God. Snap out of it!” Maeve rolled her eyes, pushed past Faye along the railing.
“He was Grandma’s friend. From Ireland. You remember. I’ll tell Dad we need locks on the doors,” Faye offered, shuddering at the thought of him prowling around their home.
