Caer was surprised to feel a sting of tears come to her own eyes. She was startled by her own show of emotion and swiped impatiently at her cheeks. But it was beautiful, the loving bond between mother and daughter.
“That pretty nurse is just going to be seeing to it that I can reach my telly-thing here,” Mrs. McGillicutty said happily, then turned to Caer.
“Mary took over my husband’s pub when he passed away,” she said proudly. “You’ll have to stop in—it’s just down the street. It’s called Irish Eyes.”
“Mum,” Mary said, “I’m sure she has better things to do.”
“I’d love to stop by,” Caer said. “I’ll come tonight.” She smiled warmly.
Mary flushed slightly. “’Tis just a working man’s place,” Mary said.
“And a working woman’s, as well,” Mrs. McGillicutty chastised.
“I just meant that…well, it’s a pub. Family style. Nothing fancy,” Mary explained.
“Nothing fancy needed. I’d love to stop by.”
Caer had the feeling that it would be old-style and charming, not like all those soulless new bars taking over the city.
And, she thought, irritably, if she was heading to America, Michael could stuff himself if he didn’t think she deserved a night out before she left. She had that envelope full of money to spend, straight out of petty cash, and she didn’t see any reason not to spend some of it at Mary’s pub.
She hadn’t checked the amount, of course, but she doubted that it was too “petty.” She would spend the afternoon of the day shopping and doing a bit of research on another O’Riley, and then she would stop by the pub.
“I’ll see you later,” Caer said with a smile.
“Lovely,” Mary told her.
Caer left the room at last, seeing to it that a nurse’s aide went to take care of Mrs. McGillicutty’s remote control, then quickly changing out of her uniform. On her way out, she stopped by Sean O’Riley’s door. He was still in conversation with Zachary Flynn, but their voices were too low for her to hear.
Caer left the hospital and wandered the streets, shopping for what she thought she might need in America, though quite frankly, she had no idea what would be stylish for a Rhode Island winter. She did the best she could, though she was handicapped by the fact that she seldom dressed in normal street clothing.
With her purchases made, she went on to the hotel where Sean and his wife were staying. Amanda wasn’t in her room; at least, she didn’t answer when Caer called her on the house phone. Deciding that the other woman must still be in the spa, Caer decided it was time to find out what the ritzy establishment had to offer.
It was all on Michael’s euro, after all, she thought with a satisfied smile.
She checked her purchases with the bell desk and headed for the spa. Apparently, everyone felt the need for something exotic, since Mandarin specialties were prominently advertised. She managed a quick look at the register and discovered that Amanda O’Riley was in the orange-herbal baths. Happily, she was able to arrange for a walk-in treatment for herself.
She was escorted to a room where sitar music played softly, and she was offered slippers, a bathrobe and herbal tea. She asked if they had Irish breakfast tea, instead, which the consultant prepared for her, but only after looking at her strangely. Apparently few people turned down the herbal variety. Then she was served strawberries, which were delicious—she could barely remember tasting anything so sweet—and then she was whisked off to the bath, where she shed her robe and slipped into a giant tub filled with hot water, herbs and orange peels. Now she was listening to harp music, and luckily, she was in the tub right next to Sean’s wife.
The blonde was lying back in the water, her hair wrapped in a towel to keep it dry, just as Caer’s had been. A pillow rested beneath her head, but she had removed the cucumbers she had been given to set on her eyelids and was chatting to the woman on her other side.
The water was soothing, and a series of small jets kept it in constant motion. That, combined with the orange peels and whatever concoction of herbs floated in the water, intended to soften the skin, was extremely pleasant. She allowed her cucumbers to remain on her eyelids and listened in, though she hardly imagined that—if Amanda had indeed caused Sean’s illness in some way—she was going to blurt out a confession to a stranger.