20. London
My heart thudded loudly in my ears as I shrugged out of my coat and hung it up in the mudroom.
Slipping off my boots, I placed them next to Kelly’s shoes and let out a shaky exhale.
As I wandered down the hallway, I saw Kelly’s bedroom door was ajar.
A glance inside revealed she wasn’t in there, but there was a book opened downward on her rumpled bed like she’d been interrupted mid-reading.
I wondered how she was feeling today. Understanding that my parents were neglectful wasn’t something that happened overnight. It was a creeping realization, a slow-burn anger in my gut until I grew so resentful that I didn’t always succeed at masking that resentment.
At that age, the pain of knowing my parents didn’t love me was agonizing.
There were so many times I could have gone off the rails searching for what they weren’t giving me.
Fortunately, I’d had Nana, and I met Tierney and her parents, and their love and support saved me from the more destructive behavior I might have indulged in.
Kelly, thankfully, had Murray, and there wasn’t anyone who could ever argue that he didn’t show his little girl enough love and support. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t in extreme pain right now.
Taran’s kindness from earlier bolstered me. It wouldn’t be easy, but I wanted to help Kelly get through this. I wanted to be to her what Tierney had been to me, what Taran had been to me.
As I walked into the reception hall, I heard the muffled sound of music filtering down the stairwell. Stopping, I glanced up, the butterflies rioting. Not for Kelly but for Murray’s mom, Fiona. Her car was parked outside.
At the top of the stairs, I heard Murray’s deep chuckle and a warm bloom of feeling spread across my chest. The sound of a woman’s voice made me push myself forward, striding into the kitchen.
Murray was taking a pie dish out of the oven as his mom drained a bowl of veg at the sink. Kelly, seated on a stool at the island, was the first to see me enter.
I gave her a soft smile. She frowned and looked down at the countertop.
Great.
“London.” Murray drew my gaze as he placed the hot pie dish on a wooden stand. “Just in time.”
“Is there anything I can do?” I gave his mom a smile, but I felt the slight strain of it.
I think Fiona noticed because she put the bowl of veg down on the island, wiped her hands on a dish towel, and came over to me with a warm smile. “London, fàilte. It’s nice to see you again.” She drew me into a tentative hug, which I returned, relief suffusing me.
“You too.”
Fiona drew back, her gaze roaming my face. “I forgot what a bonny lassie you are.”
My cheeks heated. “Thank you.”
“Don’t embarrass her, Mum,” Murray admonished, but there was a teasing note in his tone.
“Och, it’s never embarrassing to hear someone tell you you’re bonny. Come, come, have a wee seat. We’re almost ready to eat.”
“I’d love to help if I can.”
“It’s all done. I just need to plate up.”
“What is everyone drinking?” I asked.
Fiona let out a little huff of laughter. “All right, you can get the drinks. Just water for me.”
“And me,” Murray threw in as he cut into the pie. The smell of it filled the kitchen, and I could see it was a steak pie.
“Kelly, what would you like to drink?”
She shrugged as she scrolled through her phone. “Whatever.”
“Kelly Fiona Shaw, you’ll put your phone away and you’ll answer politely when asked a question,” her grandmother said with a gentle sternness I admired.
To Kelly’s credit, she immediately put down her phone and looked at me. “Diet Coke.”
I busied myself getting everyone a drink. Soon enough we were all seated, hot steak pie, mashed potatoes, broccoli, sprouts, peas, and carrots all covered in a rich gravy and overflowing on our plates. It was quintessential hearty British food, and there was no way I could eat it all.
“Mum’s portions are generous,” Murray offered with a twinkle in his eye. “Just eat what you can.”
“Oh, aye, of course.” Fiona waved her fork at me. “Don’t feel like you have to clean the plate on my account.”
To my delight, the steak melted in the mouth like butter, and I told Fiona so.
“I wish I could take credit for it, but I literally just stuck it in the oven. This is from the butchers. They get the pies from a farm shop on Scaris.”
“It’s excellent.”
There was silence as we ate. Even though we were occupied with the food, it was still awkward, and my mind raced with something to say.
Fiona beat me to it. “London, tell me about yourself. I know you’re American and you’re a chef, but that’s about it, really. I feel like I should know more about my daughter-in-law.”
I internally winced as I swallowed a bite of food. Yeah, she wasn’t wrong.
I told her I was from New York, and I’d worked as a sous chef in Manhattan before following my best friend Tierney to Scotland to work in her B and B.
While I spoke, I was aware of Kelly’s study.
She might not want to appear interested but, of course, she wanted to know more about this woman living in her house.
Before Fiona could ask anything else, Kelly spoke. “I heard chefs don’t make a lot of money, especially the kind of chef you are for the B and B. Did you and Dad sign a prenup like the one he and Mum signed?”
A quick look at Murray revealed his distress, the strain in his features and how his lips parted as if he was trying to speak but couldn’t.
I realized how tough it was for him to see Kelly asking these sorts of questions. How guilty he probably felt that his teenage daughter was obviously anxious about things she shouldn’t have to concern herself with.
Even Fiona stayed quiet, waiting for an answer.
So, I rescued Murray. “Your dad and I signed what’s called a postnuptial agreement.
I told your dad right from the outset that I did not want any money from him, and so the agreement I signed waives any right to financial compensation outside of what I make for myself or have a hand in making together with your father during our marriage. ”
“You can’t take money from him when you divorce?” Kelly prodded.
The word when shouldn’t have bothered me so much. “None,” I promised. “That’s not why …”
Kelly stared at me like she didn’t quite understand me, but the sneering curl to her upper lip disappeared.
“And that didn’t bother your parents?” Fiona suddenly cut in. “I mean, you moving across the Atlantic with no plans to leave?” I would have been grateful for the deliberate change of subject if the subject hadn’t been my parents.
“We’re not close.”
“Oh.” She frowned, her green eyes, so like Murray’s, now filled with concern. “Why not?”
Murray cleared his throat and shot his mum a look she ignored.
I took a sip of water as my pulse raced. For some reason, it always felt like a failing on my part that my parents didn’t give a shit about me. “My mom is a cardiothoracic surgeon, and my dad is a neurosurgeon. They’re both top in their fields and their work consumes their lives.”
“Well, that’s very impressive, but I’m sure they miss you.”
“Mum—”
“They don’t.” I gave her a tight smile, thinking of Kelly and hoping my being honest might make her feel less alone. “My mother and father lost the tiny bit of interest they had in me when it was clear I didn’t want to become a surgeon.”
“Oh.” Fiona looked bemused. “I won’t get to meet them, then?”
“They don’t even know I’m married.”
“Well, I would—”
“Have you tasted London’s food yet, Mum?” Murray cut her off. “She’s a fantastic chef.”
“I’ll cook next time,” I added.
“I’d like that.” She stared at me with the kind of worry you might show a child. It was sweet but also made me feel vulnerable in the worst way.
“How was your day?” I changed the subject, glancing around the table.
I noted Murray seemed to wipe his expression clear before he spoke. “I talked with the head teacher at the high school, and they’ve contacted Kelly’s old school for her paperwork so we can get her back into class.”
“Are you looking forward to going back to your old school?” I turned to Kelly.
She shrugged. “I was only at the island high school for a few months before we left for Edinburgh. But Anna and Lucas are there, so they’re excited I’m home.”
We chatted more about what Kelly needed for starting high school on the island, and we covered safe topics, never touching upon her mom or that whole situation. I wondered if she and Fiona had already had a heart-to-heart about it.
“Don’t you have your first gig coming up?” Fiona asked Murray as we cleaned the dishes after dinner.
“In a few weeks. At the Lantern.”
“I never get to hear you play,” Kelly huffed.
“That’s not true. But we usually play late when you’re in bed.”
“I’m fourteen now, Dad. I don’t go to bed at eight o’clock anymore. I could come to the Lantern to see you play.”
“You know Aodhan doesn’t allow under eighteens in the bar after 8 p.m.” Murray ruffled his daughter’s hair as he passed.
“Then can’t you do an earlier gig?”
“Or you could just listen to your dad play now.” Fiona grinned mischievously at her son. “I haven’t heard you play the guitar for a while. And I bet London has never heard you play guitar.”
“I haven’t.” I stepped forward, intrigued. “I’d love to.”
There was the slightest flush at the top of Murray’s cheekbones, but when Kelly pleaded, “Aye, please, Dad, play something,” I could see the soft affection on his face. There was very little he wouldn’t do for his daughter.
Those butterflies of attraction flared to life again as we followed him into the music room. Fiona sat on the couch with Kelly, and I perched on the arm of it, while Murray took a guitar off the wall and sat across from us on a wooden chair.
“What are you going to play?” Kelly asked as her father tuned the instrument.
He gave her a wink in answer.