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“Naw, it’s illegal to take and eat a pheasant you’ve run over yourself,” he was saying, “but if someone else hits it first, you can pick it up.”
“Which is why I follow ’round Niamh when she drives,” Mr. O’Meara joked. “Saves us money, so she does.”
Maisie smiled, loving the similarity between father and son. But when Niamh asked her to do something, Maisie had to apologize for not understanding her again.
“Ach, don’t apologize,” Niamh said, handing over a frilly half apron for Maisie to wear. “I know me accent’s thick, love. Just tell me to slow down whenever you hear me rushin’. Would you give me a helpin’ hand with yon carrots now?”
Maisie hadn’t even managed to tie the apron around her waist yet, so she rushed forward and started on peeling the carrots as Niamh rattled off more ingredients for the stew.
“Now some people serve it with beef, but that’s not real stew, like,” she continued. “It’s got to be made with lamb.”
Maisie nodded her understanding as the two of them continued chopping up carrots, onions, and potatoes. At one point, Niamh asked Maisie about her culinary training, so Maisie shared with her all she could, all the while Niamh listened and praised accordingly.
Before long, their conversation shifted to the vegetable soup at Doherty’s.
“Finn told me you were hopin’ to use it for your menu,” Niamh said, putting the chunky potatoes into a large pot. “Have you heard back from her, yet?”
“I have. We’ve started emailing each other a bit since Finn spoke with her.”
“Fine, fine. I’ll be havin’ tea with her next week, so I’ll push her along,” Niamh said. “She’s quite busy, like, but I’m sure she’ll love workin’ with you.”
“I hope so. I just don’t want her to feel pressured into agreeing if she doesn’t want to.”
Niamh scoffed. “Ach, naw. She won’t. Although, you shouldn’t be feelin’ that way either to use this stew in your grand restaurant, alright? Just know that I’ll hold it against you forever if you don’t.”
She winked, and Maisie laughed, though something within her was already telling her that this stew would be perfect for the restaurant.
After thirty minutes of chopping away and chatting even more, Maisie was asked to pull out more veggies from the fridge, but as she approached, her eyes caught sight of the photos on the doors, and she took a minute to look at them closer.
There were a few of Finn’s parents, one of Niamh and a far younger version of Finn’s grandma, then a few more of Finn as a boy.
Maisie smiled, seeing him standing with his hands in his pockets, smiling tight-lipped into the camera. The photo was old and blurry, but the location of the Dark Hedges was unmistakable. Then, right next to it, Maisie found the photo she’d taken of Finn only a week prior at the same location.
“Finn told me you took that,” Niamh said, coming up to stand behind her. “He gave it to me this mornin’ after their run. I wanted to thank you meself for it, as it’s been so long since I’ve got an updated photo of him.”
“He definitely took some convincing,” Maisie mused.
“Aye.” Niamh’s voice lowered as she continued, her eyes still on the photograph. “Finny feels so deeply, but he doesn’t like to show it. He’s just a lovely, lovely boy.” Her features sobered. “He had such a troubled childhood. Never really fit in with anyone ’til he found those boys at Eton, then that was cut short.” She shook her head, blinking and seeming to come out of her deep thoughts. “Anyway, he’s found his place in the world now, hasn’t he? We couldn’t be happier for him, even if we do miss him.”
Maisie recalled Finn’s words at the causeway, how he’d been unable to cope being away from home. While Finn had seen it as a weakness, Maisie had seen it as a strength. It just went to show how deeply he loved.
“You know,” Niamh began in a whisper, “you’re the first girl Finny’s brought home.”
Her heart warmed. That’s what his friends had said last night, too.
“I know all about the nonsense on his bus and the rules that’re enforced,” Niamh continued, “but I’m glad he made it possible for you to come.” She smiled. “I can see how special you must be for him to bring you here.”
Maisie returned the woman’s smile, and though Niamh went back to work, Maisie found it even more difficult to focus.
Had Finn never brought another woman home because he couldn’t commit like Fiadh had mentioned—or because he’d never found anyone worthy? Did that mean Maisie was?
Placing fresh parsley on the cutting board next, Maisie distractedly chopped before Finn wandered into the kitchen, and she lost all hope of concentrating altogether.
“Are you two not done yet?” he asked. “Will you stop faffin’ ’round and make the stew already? I’m starved, like.”
“Ach, you’re always hungry, boyo,” Niamh said with a shake of her head, looking at Maisie. “He ate me out of house and home, and there’s only one of ’im. Not like you’d be able to tell. Boy’s as thin as a chip from O’Manigan’s Chippy.” She faced Finn again as Maisie laughed, and Finn pulled on a look of hurt from his ma. “Now you go on out o’ this kitchen with that kind a talk, and give me head peace, you cheeky wee lad.”
“I dunno, Ma, I think I need to stay in here and lend me expertise.” He winked at Maisie, which made her nearly miss the parsley she was still chopping.
