Chapter 12
twelve
MAGS
Mags sighed the minute the gallery came into view, and her ribs screamed in protest. Oh well.
All’s well that ends well. Eze clearing her work schedule was a huge overstepping blessing.
She was giddy to spend the rest of the day working on her second paid piece and sketching the fan design for Eze’s mother.
Speaking of her rescuer, she hadn’t seen him since the night before, when he “laid down the law,” so to speak. He was busy at Trinity and picking up the slack at the chippers.
He laughed when she asked him if their boss would get someone to help clean all the fish.
“Margaret,” he chuckled, “I’ve worked at half speed since you took an interest in filleting.
The faster my hands work, the more I can immerse myself in equations, but I’ve learned to do my thinking at the slower pace. ”
He’d still been chuckling when he excused himself at her bedroom door. Ass. Just because he was kind of like her hero now, didn’t mean she wasn’t plotting payback for the razzing.
Mags paused at the top of the stairs and felt her breakfast begin to make a second appearance. A small, headless bird lay still with its blood congealing around the gray feathers.
“Christ!” She screeched and slammed a hand over her beating heart, quickly moaning at the pain she’d inadvertently caused her bruised body.
The bird’s head was leaning against her door, its small black eyes frozen and watching. “My God,” she mumbled. Eze or Abeo must have let in a cat that, unfortunately, liked to eat its snacks outside her door.
She looked around the stairwell, the door, and finally to the window high above, the only source of natural light. It had to be a cat getting in. They were clever and resourceful. It probably sneaked out the moment it heard a human.
Stepping over the head, she let herself in and grabbed several paper towels, making quick work of scooping up the cat’s interrupted meal and placing it in a garbage bag to toss in a bin on her way to Eze’s. She’d be damned if she buried every damn thing the cat dragged in.
As she washed up, she decided she really needed to tell the gallery manager that they might have a gap somewhere in their exterior. They wouldn’t want to take any chances that a cat or any other animal could gain access to the gallery proper.
Finally seated at her desk, her hands froze above the desk's whitewashed planks. A few things were out of order. The hair on the back of her neck rose.
Her scissors were on the windowsill. She could maybe believe she’d been in a hurry and placed them wrong, but several of her embroidery threads were out of their color codes.
Now that, she would never have done in a hurry or not. Her eyes slowly traveled around the small room, landing on the partially opened door of the space’s only closet, and then it hit her. Eze had been there, and he’d been in a hurry. He might have looked at her sewing things out of curiosity.
It seemed out of character for him not to put her things back the exact way he’d found them, but then, he was emotional at the time.
Forcing her shoulders to relax, Mags settled in to enjoy a few hours of uninterrupted work. As her hands worked through an intricate bee pattern, her mind drifted to her friends. Their visit and care had been a balm to her spirit that she hadn’t realized she’d been craving.
Jol prepared a whole brunch spread for her friends, and at everyone’s urging, the housekeeper sat and enjoyed the feast, even laughing at the crazy exchanges.
The moment they walked into Eze’s flat and introductions with Jol and Abeo were made, they dragged her to the back bedroom and forced her to strip to her bra and panties to see for themselves how badly she was hurt.
“God, Mags,” Gray gasped. “You’re so lucky you didn’t break any bones. I’m still pissed you didn’t call one of us.”
Blair lightly ran her fingers over Mags’ ribs and winced before signing, “Did your mom freak?”
At her hesitation, Bébhinn clasped her shoulders and forced Mags to look her in the eye. “Tell me you told Charles and Aileen.” At Mags’ grimace, she added, “You better have a damn good reason for all your recent cloak and dagger bullshit.”
She had about ten reasons, but she refused to tell them everything.
However, she could give them something. “This book deal is super amazing for Dad, but family finances will be tight for a few more months. I’ve taken a couple of part-time jobs to pick up the slack.
My parents don’t know, and I don’t want them to. ”
Blair, ever the most intuitive, asked, “Why did you move out of the townhouse, then? You didn’t have to pay rent.”
Mags felt heat sweep over her body, exhausted by the subterfuge. She put her clothes back on while her three best friends looked at her with concern.
She decided on one more truth. She sat on the bed and faced the firing squad before her so her shaky knees wouldn’t fail her.
“I didn’t make the financial aid deadline and couldn’t afford Trinity this semester.
Your father,” she looked at Bébhinn, “provided a roof over our heads while you and all of us were in school because he was the most amazing, thoughtful, honorable man to have ever walked the Earth. But…well, I’m not in school, and I have honor too.
“I had to take a few jobs to make ends meet while my parents are in America, but I’m excited for my business.
I believe in myself, guys. This year has been shit for me, and there are some personal family things I’d like to share, but I can’t.
Not yet. Just know that I have a plan, and I feel optimistic. ”
Bébhinn cried and sat on the bed next to Mags. “Dad would have kicked your ass for moving out. I want to kick your ass, but you're scrappy, and I don’t want a black eye for tonight. You should have trusted me. Us.” Her voice hiccupped the last.
“Mags,” Gray started before swallowing roughly several times, “you saw me at my lowest, and you refused to leave me there. You were the catalyst that brought Ciar and me back together. I would have been honored to help you. It hurts me that you didn’t give me the chance.”
That gutted Mags. Her own panic had blinded her to her true resources. It wasn’t money she’d needed all these months. It’d been her friends’ support.
“What jobs are you working?” Gray asked.
Groaning at what was to come, she told the truth anyway.
“I work in the kitchen at an elderly care center Monday through Friday.
I get there at five. Once the dishes are done from morning service and the lunch prepped, I hoof it to the chipper shop we all like on Crown Alley.
I fillet fish and fry until the afternoon.
“Then I work on my projects above the Smith Gallery the rest of the day. I dust and clean the shop for money off the attic space, but” she attempted brightly, “I get to use their toilet and breakroom fridge and microwave.”
“Where have you been showering?” Bébhinn asked tightly. “You’ve only been staying here since last night.”
Mags blushed furiously, but she was done lying. “There is a gym not a half mile from the gallery that rents lockers and has showers.”
“What else?” Gray asked.
“I bartend Friday and Saturday nights. The tips are great. You guys know that fabric isn’t cheap. It’ll all be worth it in the end, I swear.”
“You didn’t eat or drink at Murphy’s last Sunday,” Blair stated. She was tight-lipped, her face pale and pinched. She was beyond hurt.
“Well, I was running a bit short of funds, but I loved seeing everyone. Honestly, I didn’t mind.
” Even Mags was getting slightly depressed at her “woe is me” bullshit.
“Listen. It sounds bleaker than it is, and now that Eze, the guy who lives here, has decided I’m to live with him until I get on my feet, my life is truly turning around.
“I don’t want your sympathy, guys. I’ll take your love and support, but not your pity.”
Blair was busy typing away on her phone, which was odd since she needed to watch everyone to stay involved in the conversation. Mags watched as Blair’s face paled. Whatever she’d been reading wasn’t good.
Blair looked up and stared daggers at Mags, while tears slipped from her expressive green eyes clouded with tears.
“Your parents are living a few blocks from America’s number one cancer hospital.
Johns Hopkins. Her cancer is back, isn’t it?
That’s what all of this is about. Don’t lie, Margaret, or I swear I’ll call Dad right this minute. ”
This was it then. No more running. She was tired of hiding, and Mags trusted her friends with her life and certainly with her mother’s secret.
“It is. I found out the night before your wedding, Bébhinn.”
In that moment, the painful band that had been constricting her loosened. She was able to explain the reason why her mom had insisted on secrecy, on wanting to fight the cancer on her own two feet and with her own money.
She agreed with her friends that their family and friends would be pissed when they found out.
When Mags explained that her parents would be back in Scotland in a few weeks, and that she was showing all signs of having beaten cancer a second time, and that they wanted to break the news to everyone themselves, they had agreed to not tell their parents.
With liberal cold water splashed over everyone’s eyes, they’d finally found their way to the kitchen and dug into the glorious spread Jol prepared.
She explained her relationship with Eze and that he was truly a knight in shining armour. They agreed and couldn’t wait to give him hugs. Eze would not be happy.
As Mags’ needle thrust and wove through the fabric stretched in her hoop, she couldn’t help grinning. Who knew that honesty could feel this freeing?
Had her friends been hurt at first? Yes, just as Mags would have been had the situation been reversed, but now she had people in her corner who knew her struggles and would be nothing but uplifting.
Her friends promised to keep Mags’ family drama a secret from their parents. Still, Gray and Bébhinn were absolutely firm on telling their husbands. She understood and agreed. If Mags had a relationship like they did, there would never be room for secrets.
Mags’ hands flew over the cream linen in nothing short of joy. Jol had given her a strict curfew to be home. Eze’s flat was home now, which made her smile widen.
If she shied away from wondering what woman would be hanging off Jonathan’s arm tonight, she just as quickly remembered she’d actually be on the arm of a gorgeous Nigerian prince.
Suck it, Jonathan O’Faolain.