“My mother’s worse.”
“Is that even possible?”
“Why do you think your grandda hired a cook? We’d have starved to death. And bless her, Maureen’s not much better.”
“That’s why they invented take-away.” Hoping to stem more weeping, Meara rose to put the kettle on. “I never knew you hated living here.”
“I don’t. That was wrong and ungrateful. I’ve a roof over my head, and a garden I’m proud of. I’ve good neighbors, and you and Donal close. I’ve hated it’s all I have—another’s property my daughter pays to keep around me.”
“It’s not all you have.” How blind had she been, Meara wondered, not to see how it would score her mother’s pride to live in a rental her child paid for?
“It’s only a place, Ma. Just a place. You have your children, your grandchildren, who love you enough to conspire for your happiness. You have yourself, a terrible cook, but a brilliant gardener. You’ll be a boon to those grandchildren.”
“Will I?”
“Oh, you will. You’ll be patient with them, and sincerely interested in their doings and their thoughts. It’s different with a parent, isn’t it? They have to consider constantly whether to say yes or no, now or later. They have to discipline and enforce as well as love and tend. You’ll only have to love, and they’ll soak all that up like sponges.”
“I do miss having them closer, having the time to spoil them.”
“So here’s your chance.”
“What if Maureen objects to the spoiling?”
“Then I’m off to Galway to kick her arse.”
Colleen smiled again as Meara made the tea. “You’ve always been my warrior. So fierce and brave. I’m hoping I’ll have grandchildren from you to spoil one day.”
“Ah well.”
“I’ve heard you and Connor O’Dwyer are seeing each other.”
“I’ve been seeing Connor O’Dwyer all my life.”
“Meara.”
No avoiding it, Meara thought, and brought the tea to the little table. “We’re seeing each other.”
“I’m as fond of him as I can be. He’s a fine man, and so handsome as well. A good heart and a kind nature. He comes to see me now and then, just to see how I’m faring, and to ask if there’s any little thing he can do around the place.”
“I didn’t know, but it’s like him.”
“He has a way about him, and though I know the way of the world, I can’t approve of . . . that is, the sex before marriage.”
Holy Mary, Meara prayed, have mercy and spare me from the sex talk.
“Understood.”
“I feel the same with Donal and Sharon, but . . . A man’s a man, after all, and they’ll want such things with or without Holy Matrimony.”
“As do women, Ma, and I hate to break the news to you, but I’m a woman grown.”
“Be that as it may,” Colleen said primly, “you’re still my daughter. And despite what the Church says on such matters, I’ll hope you’ll have a care.”
“You can rest easy there.”
“I’ll rest easy when you’re happy and married and starting a family in a home of your own. I’m as fond of Connor as I can be, as I said, but it’s a fact he’s an eye for the ladies. So have a care, Meara.”
When she heard the front door open, Meara offered desperate thanks. “And here’s Donal set to take you to Galway,” she said brightly. “I’ll get another cup for his tea.”