Night Of The Blackbird. Heather Graham
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mother and grandmother. Josh was happy; he had spoken to his wife, who was coming up with the babies the next day. Michael had looked in on her nieces and nephews as they slept and insisted on telling her just how adorable they were, as if she didn’t know that already. That always sat well with her. Love me, love my dog, she realized. She didn’t have a dog, but the same thought applied. She might be a bit wary of her family, but she did take tremendous pride in them, and she couldn’t help but be pleased that Michael seemed to be fitting in so well.
He really was wonderful. He got behind the bar for a while. He chatted with her dad’s friends as if he had known them all his life. He had a conversation with Patrick regarding a group of Americans that was forming to support Irish orphans and provide scholarships for those, Protestant and Catholic, who were of college age and had lost their parents through natural causes or violent events.
He was amazing.
She smiled at him across the bar at one point, hoping that he could sense what she was thinking.
At last it came time for Kelly’s Pub to close. The band stopped, and the last of the customers, the old-timers, departed. She was wiping down the bar when she felt Danny behind her. This time she knew he was there before he spoke. “You’ve not introduced me to the new love of your life, Moira,” he murmured.
“Oh, really? Imagine that—and when I’ve seen so much of you, too.”
“I’ve been playing hard, all for the good of the cause,” he said softly.
“Don’t even use the word ‘cause’ near me, Daniel O’Hara,” she said, voice lowered.
“Moira, it’s just an innocent word,” he said, amused.
Michael was walking toward her, a bulwark against this thorn in her side.
“Here he comes. So you get to meet him,” she said softly. “There you are, Michael,” she said in a normal tone, dropping her bar rag and walking toward Michael to slip an arm around him. He hugged her back. She gave him an adoring gaze, then pretended to realize that, oh, yes, Danny, an old friend, was standing there. “Dan O’Hara, Michael McLean. Michael’s working with us as an associate producer and locations manager,” Moira said.
Michael, smiling, stretched out his right hand to shake Danny’s. His left arm remained around Moira’s shoulder. “I hope I’m a lot more than that,” he said ruefully. “Dan O’Hara, it’s nice to meet you. I understand you’re an old family friend.”
“Oh, much more than that,” Danny said lightly. “A pleasure to meet you, too, Michael McLean. If I can be of any assistance while you’re in the city, please don’t hesitate.”
“An Irishman who knows Boston so well?” Michael said.
“My home away from home,” Danny said.
“He’s a citizen of the world,” Moira’s father announced, joining them and throwing an arm around Danny. “We’re about to close up the place, Moira Kathleen. And if you’ve such a busy workload tomorrow, perhaps your friends should get on to their hotel rooms.”
“Moira, are you coming back with us for a while? Check out what we’ve done with the scheduling?” Michael asked. His voice was all innocence; after all, her father was standing there.
Moira was determined, under Danny’s watchful eye, to say yes and to say it with enthusiasm. But before she could open her mouth, her father was speaking.
“Ah, daughter, not tonight. Please, don’t be going out on the streets tonight.”
“Dad, I’m not going far. Just over to the Copley.”
“It’s late.”
“Dad…”
“They’ve just found that poor girl’s body.”
“Dad, I’m as disturbed as you are about the murder, but I’m not going out soliciting—”
“Moira Kathleen! It’s the hour. And what makes you think the innocent are less likely than the sinners to be harmed?”
“She may not have been a sinner. She might have just been trying to get by,” Moira told her father, then wondered why she was arguing the point.
“Moira, perhaps your dad is right. It’s very late, and it’s your first night home,” Michael said. His eyes spoke his regret, but it made her happy that once again he was trying to make everything work with her family. That kind of attitude meant that they were in it for the long haul.
“All right, it is late,” Moira said. “I’ll see you in the morning,” she told Michael. She stood on tiptoe to give him a kiss good-night. He smelled good, she thought. The texture of his jacket was nice against her hands. I really do care about this man, she thought. He’s handsome, sexy and so much more. Solid, decent, confident, exciting.
“Girl, he’s leaving for the night, not the millennium,” her father said with a soft sigh.
She laughed, letting go of Michael. She gave Josh a kiss on the cheek. “You two be careful going back to the hotel.”
“We’ll be fine,” Josh assured her.
They both bade her father and Danny good-night, and she walked them to the door of the pub, catching Michael’s scarf to stop him after the men had donned their coats and kissing him one last time.
“Well, it’s about all done,” her father said when the door had closed. “You go to bed, Moira Kathleen, and Dan and I will finish up here.”
“No, Dad, I’m home tonight. You go up to bed and get some rest. I think you’re supposed to be resting far more than you are.”
“If a man stops working, he stops moving, and it’s all over after that,” Eamon said, shaking his head.
“Dad, I’m here, safe and sound in the house, and it won’t hurt you to go to bed this one night,” she insisted. She made a mental note to have a long talk with her mother. Kelly’s was open every day of the week. Eamon employed good people, but he had a tendency to make his business a very personal affair, and she was sure he let his work put too much strain on him.
“Well, then, fine. Tonight you and Danny can pick up the slack for the old man,” he told her, winking.
He pulled her to him, giving her a strong, fierce hug once again and kissing the top of her head. “Love you, girl, that I do,” he said, a husky timbre to his voice.
“You, too, Dad. Now get up to bed. You’ve got a full house tonight.”
“Aye, but I’ve a sainted mother, who puts up with everything and manages a house like the best of construction foremen. Aye, she’s a rough taskmaster, that one,” he said. “Good night, Moira, and, Danny, see that she gets up to bed soon herself.”
“That I will, Eamon,” Danny assured him.
As her father headed for the inner stairway, Moira walked to the bar. There were only a few glasses still sitting out and the beautiful old bar to be wiped down. The place had been a tavern in colonial days, and the bar was several hundred years old. She had always loved it and loved the sense of history she felt when wiping it down.
Danny checked the door to the street, making sure it was locked, then walked to where she was cleaning. He leaned against the bar, his eyes sparkling as he looked at her.
“I believe you’re supposed to be working with me,” she told him, not looking up from her task.
He shrugged. “You shouldn’t be dating him, you know.”
Moira didn’t stop wiping the polished wood of the bar. She forced Danny to move an elbow.
“You’re listening to me, love, and we both know it,” he said, leaning against the wood once again. “You shouldn’t be dating him.”
“Oh?” she said, staring at him, surprised to find that the