Alanna had hoped to escape the inquisition Patricia was sure to spring on her. “I’m not sure where the coffee is,” she said to Barry.
“I’ll show you.” Though the offer was warm, the words were cold. Patricia stalked into the kitchen and retrieved a bag of coffee beans from the cabinet. Instead of starting the coffee, she turned and stared at Alanna. “You’re not fooling me,” she hissed. “I know what you’re after.”
“Wha-what do you mean?” Alanna struggled to make sense of the other woman’s hostility. Did she already know this baby wasn’t Barry’s?
“You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last, though I’ll never know why Barry should feel such a misguided sense of responsibility that he had to marry you.” She stepped closer.
“I don’t understand.”
Patricia’s mouth twisted. “You’re nothing special. Barry chases every redhead with even a superficial resemblance to Deirdre. You’re the first one he’s married, though, so you might be smarter than you look.”
“You don’t understand.” Alanna held up her hand. “Let me explain.” It would be better for Patricia to realize there was nothing romantic in the relationship.
Patricia rolled her eyes. “What kind of fool do you take me for? I knew the truth the minute I saw the resemblance.” She shook her finger in Alanna’s face. “I’ll have a talk with Barry and get to the bottom of this.” She spun on her expensive heels and stalked out the kitchen door.
Alanna stared after her. Coffee. She turned back to the pot. Her hands shook as she measured out beans and put them in the grinder, then filled the carafe with water. The coffee prep wasn’t enough to distract her from what had just happened.
Alanna shuddered at the venom she’d seen on her new mother-in-law’s face. Maybe Barry could set her straight. She’d exchanged one set of in-law problems for another, though this one was Barry’s fault.
The whole mess sickened her. All she wanted was to find someplace peaceful to grieve, a space to practice her music. She hadn’t counted on such a hotbed of conflict.
While the coffee brewed, she put the cookies on a plate. Waiting on the coffee, she glanced out the back window and saw Grady approaching the back door. Maybe he could answer some questions.
He took his boots off on the back porch, then stepped into the kitchen. “Was that the great Richard and Patricia arriving?”
“Yes.” She watched him walk to the sink and wash his hands. “They didn’t want Barry to marry me.”
Drying his hands on a paper towel, he turned and leaned against the counter. “Doesn’t surprise me.” He tossed the towel onto the counter, then tugged at his earring. “His mother is a little controlling of everyone in her life.” He twirled his finger around his ear. “Don’t get on her bad side. She reminds me of Bette Davis in Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?”
Alanna wasn’t familiar with the movie, but she didn’t doubt his assessment of her mental health. “He’d not be telling his own parents about something so important?”
“The Kavanaghs aren’t what you’d call close.” He shrugged. “I’m a good example of how the Kavanagh men make their own rules. Patricia should have learned that a long time ago.”
The coffee was done, and she’d have to rejoin the rest soon. “What about that picture in the stairs—the one that looks like me? Patricia seemed quite shaken when she saw me.”
He shrugged. “Old Fergus would never let anyone take down that picture. She was some woman he was mad over. From Ireland, naturally. He loved all things from the Emerald Isle. Quite the opposite of Patricia. She despises the Irish. I bet she had a cow when she heard your accent.”
Alanna ignored his comment. “Fergus was Barry’s grandfather?”
“Great-grandfather. He died a couple of weeks after I came to live here. Never liked me. I think it was the tattoo.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I think Deirdre is the banshee we hear on rainy nights.”
Alanna shuddered. “Patricia made her dislike of the Irish very clear.” She told him what the woman had said.
He grinned. “I’d like to have seen her face when she saw you. My mother looked a bit like the gal in that picture. The Kavanagh men seem to chase after the skirts who resemble her, and you’re a dead ringer.”
She poured the coffee into cups and put them on a silver tray. She wished she could put her shoes on. It was going to be a long afternoon.
Sixteen
The silence in the parlor was as suffocating as the inky darkness outside the window. Alanna sneaked a glance at her watch. It wasn’t even nine. She stifled a yawn and wondered where Barry’s parents were going to sleep. Maybe they were expecting to sleep in her room. If so, what would she do if Barry expected her to move into his room? She was worn out from the grilling Patricia had put her through and only wanted to fall into oblivion, not deal with what had happened between them earlier in the day.
She still needed to talk to Barry about his mother’s misconceptions.