Chapter 5 Bree
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I needed a drink, but with Declan behind the bar, I opted to take a stroll downtown.
Sitting with Ronan and talking about the future of the bar made my insides all jumpy and my nerves hadn’t had a chance to calm down since I woke up.
My green peacoat provided plenty of warmth against the lingering winter chill fighting to stick around despite spring’s approach.
I reached the end of the block past the pub and turned right, then right again.
Businesses stretched out on either side of the simple roadway, many of the signs and decorations in the windows the same as they’d been before I left.
One thing about Clover Hill, they didn’t care for change.
At the far end of the block to my left, the firestation’s red brick exterior put a hitch in my step. What if I stopped in to see Finn?
Oh hell no.
I tightened my coat around my middle and turned my back on the thought, forcing my feet to carry me to the funeral home on the opposite end of town.
Talking to Mr. Devaro about Nana’s cremation put an itch under my skin, but it had to be done.
“Morning, dear.” A thin, elderly woman sitting at a wooden cafe table outside the coffee shop lifted her cup in a sort of toast in my direction.
I racked my brain for a name but none came to mind. “Morning.”
“Are you lost?” She took a sip of coffee, her hand trembling a bit.
I shook my head. “Nope. Headed to the funeral home.”
“Oh, dear. Dreadful business.” Another sip, and rheumy blue eyes narrowed on me. “And here at St. Patrick’s day of all times.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Grateful to have someone who understood, I took a step closer. “I noticed everyone’s getting ready. They do still have the parade, don’t they? Nana always loved the parade.” My throat clogged, forcing me to stop.
Thin lips puckered. “Of course we still have the parade. Who was your nana?”
“Maeve.” It took all my control to say her name without breaking down.
A green banner hanging over the window at Overcaffeinated flapped in a gust of wind.
Shamrocks dotted several windows on this side of the street, and more decorations appeared when the man who owned the hardware store rolled out a wheelbarrow filled to overflowing with green garlands made entirely of shamrocks.
He wrapped one around the bench in front of his shop, laughing and waving at everyone who walked past.
A disgruntled noise brought my head back around. “Sorry, did you say something?” How many times had I apologized since coming back?
More than I’d apologized in the fifteen years I’d been gone, that was for sure.
“I asked what you planned to do for her funeral?” Penciled in eyebrows crashed together in a wavy line.
I fought the rising panic at what my answer might cause. It was a cruel kind of irony that Nana passed so close to her favorite holiday.
Another sign of bad luck.
They were stacking up high enough to urge me to get out of here as fast as possible.
Nana wanted me to spend three months here, but how could I when every sign pointed me toward Boston?
“I’m not having a funeral. Nana wanted to be cremated.
” Declan had given me the paperwork with her last wishes after I wrapped things up with Ronan.
“She always talked about having a celebration of life event at the pub when she passed.”
“Oh.” Her cup rattled on the table when she set it down. “I suppose if that’s what she wanted…”
“It was.” That tone, right there, was why Mom always felt trapped here.
Gossip and judgment were too easy to be unleashed when everyone knew everyone else.
There was no such thing as privacy in a town like Clover Hill.
My breathing hitched as my mind crashed back to last night and my flirtations with Finn.
Even that little escapade risked landing me in the gossip spotlight.
“It was great meeting you, but I should get going. Mr. Devaro is expecting me.” And I had to get away from the feeling of prying eyes and nosy questions.
No one considered themselves nosy here. It was just life.
And they were the reason Mom always told me to get out of Clover Hill.
She wanted me to find the peace she never found and experience a bigger life than what this place offered.
It didn’t matter that I’d never minded the closeness of the community.
I’d never found myself on the wrong side of the gossip tree.
Easy enough to avoid when you’re a kid, unless you were the type to be in trouble all the time.
If the woman said anything else, it never reached me.
I powered my way to the funeral home, met with Mr. Devaro, and was reassured that everything was in order and Nana would be ready to take home in a matter of days.
He asked if I’d like to see her.
How was I supposed to answer?
Saying yes felt a little too macabre, and yet saying no might represent some kind of reluctance that would give him pause.
I scrambled for an answer that felt true to myself.
“I’d rather remember her the way she was.
Seeing her…like that,” I waved vaguely toward the back rooms where I’d attended Mom’s funeral.
“She wouldn’t like it. Too undignified.” That’s what she’d told me the last time we spoke.
She disliked the whole idea of a funeral where people could gawk at her and touch her like she’d become some sort of curiosity.
Leave it to Nana to come up with something like that.
I hadn’t argued with her. No point. Nana knew her mind and what she wanted. I just had to honor her wishes.
“Very well.” Mr. Devaro, a whip-thin man with a bald head and wide spectacles stood and held out a manicured hand. “I’ll give you a call once she’s ready. Should be tomorrow morning.”
Like she was getting ready for a party. I suppose she was, in a way. A party at the pub. One last hoorah.
“Thank you.” I shook his hand and beat a hasty retreat, stopping outside to suck in deep lungfuls of clean air to drive out the heinous odor of dead things lingering in my sinuses.
My stomach pitched in a series of nauseating rolls that forced me to cover my mouth and swallow hard. I could not puke in the bushes outside the funeral home.
That would make Clover Hill headlines for sure. I forced my body straight and walked as fast as possible without running.
Past all the shops with their cute decorations and huddles of people standing around chatting and smiling.
I nodded at the few who registered my presence and pasted on the biggest fake smile that passed for genuine until I crossed the threshold into the pub.
It all came crashing over me at once. This was really it.
My back slammed into the door, and I slid toward the floor.
“Oh no. None of that.” Before I realized he’d even seen me, Declan crossed the room and pulled me to my feet. “Come on. Have a seat over here.” He locked the door behind me and guided me to the nearest booth with a hand on the small of my back.
I shed my coat as sweat gathered on my hairline. “Can’t breathe.” Grabbing the front of my sweater, I flapped it in an effort to cool my rising temperature.
“You can, Bree. You can do this. Here. Sit and close your eyes.” Declan nudged me into a seated position in the booth. The vinyl across from me squeaked, telling me he’d sat as well.
I shook my head but the feel of his hands on my face, smoothing my hair and brushing over my cheeks, turned the heat on for a different reason. “I need to schedule Nana’s celebration of life party. Here.” I forced my eyes open.
Declan lowered his hands to his lap, and I immediately missed his touch.
Which was ridiculous. I didn’t know this man. Or Finn. Or Ronan.
Declan pushed his back into the seat, his lips pulling to one side. “What do you have in mind?”
“I thought about waiting until St. Patrick’s Day, but I kind of want it over, you know?” I picked at the edge of my cuticles and stole a glance at Declan when he turned his head toward the bar.
He rocked his head from one side to the other. “We can decorate the place up for her. She always loved a good party.”
“She always said you only need three things for a good party. Music, food, and booze.” I ticked off each one on my fingers and managed to smile through the pain. “People were optional.”
“Even though she made her business supplying those people with booze.” Declan laughed, and it was such a carefree sound that it stopped me cold.
I’d never really considered a man beautiful until Declan.
I stood and made my way to the bar, pouring myself a cup of coffee as a way to keep busy and stop staring at Declan.
It worked for half a minute. Until I turned and realized I had to walk all the way back to the booth.
“I hate to ask, but will you help me plan the party?”
“Of course. I’d be offended if you didn’t.”
Good. I had another reason to spend time with Declan, which was pathetic if I let myself think about it too much. Sure, he was easy to talk to.
He, Finn, and Ronan were old enough to be my father. Embarrassment heated my cheeks, and I ducked my head, focusing on taking each step without tripping into his lap.
Why did I have to be attracted to the three men who were not only twice my age but were Mom’s old friends? They’d known me when I was a baby, all the way up until I left at the age of twelve. That alone made things awkward.
Fuck. It was too much to think about, and I didn’t have the headspace to decide if my emotions were too shattered to make a good decision about who I should take to bed.
“I can talk to our neighbors about helping out with spreading the word.” Declan motioned toward the window. “And it’ll be easy enough to get a notice put in the paper. Do you want it added to the pub’s social media?”
An ache formed behind my eyes. All I wanted was to go to sleep and wake up when the pain stopped. The world didn’t work that way. Mom and Nana made sure I understood that, so I stiffened my spine and drank my coffee and I planned a party for the last person alive who’d understood me.
Who I was drawn to emotionally and sexually would have to wait.