Declan was sitting on Kate’s front step when her Astra chugged into the driveway.
He’d expected to find her at home this morning—he knew she was heading to the hospital after lunch—and he had some papers that he needed her to sign.
But as he rang the doorbell, it had dawned on him; maybe she had in fact taken his advice and gone grocery shopping. His suspicions were confirmed when he rang her mobile and she told him that she would be back shortly.
Now, getting up, he walked to the driver’s side as Kate pulled to a stop. Even through the tint of the glass he could see that she looked drawn, shaken, even.
He was immediately concerned and wondered if something else (something terrible?) had happened with Rosie. Hell, how much more could one woman take?
Trying to put on a smile and keep the worry off his face, he opened the door for her, struck again by how fragile she looked, and how tired.
She had definitely lost some weight since he first met her back in April, and her clothes had now started to hang on her limply. He knew that she was unaccountably stressed about all that was to come, and now he had the overwhelming desire to pull her close, give her a hug and insist that she eat a big meal.
Not for the first time, Declan wished he could snap his fingers and make all of this go away so that Kate’s life (and Rosie’s) could return to normal.
And then he had the guilty thought that if that were possible, he would never have met her.
Momentarily shaken by the flood of confusion he was feeling, Declan found himself relieved when Kate spoke, interrupting his internal dialogue.
“Hey there,” she said with a weary voice, “I could have come to the office—I was just in Glencree. You didn’t have to come all the way over here; I’m sure you’re busy.”
“Well, you happen to be a very important client,” he said, teasing her a bit, which earned him a small smile. He hoped that his tone might lighten the mood. “Here, let me help you with the groceries,” he offered, heading to the back of the Astra. “And good on you for taking my suggestion.” He loaded up his arms with bags and refused Kate’s help. “No worries. You go ahead and unlock the door. I think I’d need to have my man card revoked if I couldn’t carry a few measly bags from the car.”
Pleased to hear her chuckle, he followed her dutifully into the house. Kate went about opening doors through to the kitchen and Declan hoisted the bags, placing them somewhat clumsily on the countertop.
She started rifling through the shopping and then suddenly paused. “Declan, I have to tell you something.”
He had been about to help her empty out some of the shopping, but stopped to meet her gaze. Something in her tone indicated that she was about to give him some bad news.
“I ran into Madeleine Cooper,” she blurted. “And I tried to talk to her.”
Declan felt his stomach drop ever so slightly. So far, there had been no major missteps with this case on their side. No embarrassments, no talking out of turn, no public faux pas. Unlike the Coopers, who had been at the helm of many.
However, he vowed to remain levelheaded and simply asked Kate to tell him what had happened. When she’d finished, he nodded thoughtfully.
OK, so it wasn’t the best thing to have happened, but it wasn’t the end of the world, either. Kate was seriously beating herself up about the situation, though, and he didn’t want her being hard on herself. There was no point.
“Did anyone happen to see the exchange?” Granted there was no gag rule when it came to plaintiffs and defendants talking to each other in public, it was just something he wouldn’t necessarily recommend in the midst of pending proceedings.
Kate nodded. “Just Christine.”
Declan looked perplexed. “My cousin?”
“One and the same.”
Sighing heavily, he couldn’t resist a smirk. “Is there ever a situation that Christine isn’t involved in?”
Kate chuckled, but there was something a bit hysterical about her laughter, and Declan chalked it up to feeling overextended and worn-out.
All of a sudden then, her stomach released a loud gurgle, causing them both to stop and look at each other—only to resume their laughter a moment later.
“All right, seriously, Kate, you need to eat. Your stomach is begging for some attention.” He poked through the remainder of the bags on the counter and seemed to decide on a course of action. After removing several items, he pointed to his client. “Now, you just sit. Leave this to me.”
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, amazement in her voice as she watched him remove his suit jacket and begin rolling up the sleeves on his shirt. He reached up around his neck to loosen his tie and then eagerly rubbed his hands together.
“It’s not what I think I’m doing, Kate. It’s what I am doing. I’m cooking you lunch—a proper meal—and I’m going to sit here and watch you eat all of it. OK?”
She grabbed a stool at the countertop and crossed her hands in front of herself dutifully. “I assume I’m being billed for this?” she asked sweetly.
Declan, who had since located where Kate stored her pots and pans, turned back to her with a twinkle in his eye. “Jokes. She’s making jokes now,” he said. “Very funny, Ms. O’Hara.” He put a saucepan on the stovetop and then began opening up more cabinets.
He saw her cast a quick glance over what ingredients he had arranged on the counter. “I’m assuming you are making spaghetti, which means you are going to have to eat it with me, because no one only makes a single serving of spaghetti. And if you are looking for the chopping board, move two cabinets down. Toward the back.”
Following her instructions, he mouthed a silent Thank you. “My own kitchen isn’t quite as complex,” he admitted.
“Well, you are a bachelor, don’t forget.” Kate smiled, relaxing a little.
As Declan made himself comfortable in her kitchen, he had a brief worry that this felt a bit too comfortable, too casual. Were they overstepping some kind of boundary here? Or did this sort of amicable relationship just naturally happen when two people spent a lot of time together in an emotionally charged situation?
He pushed the thought from his head as Kate headed to the cabinet where she kept the glasses, which was right where he was working. “Sorry, I just need to reach up to that shelf,” she said, pointing to the cabinet in question.
“Oh, right,” he acknowledged a bit awkwardly as he tried to step back from where he had been cutting vegetables for a salad. He moved enough so Kate could wedge her way in, and the small corner space forced their two bodies together.
“Um, sorry,” she said quickly as her arm brushed Declan’s. “The one awkward area of this kitchen,” she gave by way of an explanation. “Greg and I always said that if we’d designed this room, we would never have put in an island. Too cramped.” Her face had turned bright red.
Declan smiled. “How long had you been married when you moved here?” A flash of something crossed her face then and he added, “I’m sorry, it’s none of my business. You don’t have to—”
“No, really, it’s fine,” answered Kate. “I can talk about it. And it’s good for me to talk about it. It’s my life, it happened. Really, it’s OK and I’m OK. We were married for eight years when we moved here. Times were great and for that, I’m thankful. Maybe my marriage didn’t last as long as I thought it would, but there were definitely way more good memories than bad.” She wore a smile and this time Declan was pleased to see that it reached her eyes. “What about you? Been down that road yourself?”
He chuckled. “No. I came close, though. I was engaged to a girl from Dublin a few years ago. But it didn’t work out.” He hoped his voice didn’t sound bitter. He’d been heartbroken at the time, but he definitely didn’t wish his ex-fiancée any ill will.
“So what happened?” she asked. He turned to face her and as he met her gaze he realized she was blushing. “It’s just...you know so much about me.” She smiled nervously and was it just him or had something definitely shifted between them today?
Declan tried to fight the growing worry that he might be crossing a boundary here. “Well, there isn’t much to tell,” he said honestly. “She pretty much decided that small-town life wasn’t what she wanted. And that wasn’t good, considering I’m a small-town kind of guy.”
Kate rolled her eyes playfully. “Yet the small-town guy can cook. Where did you learn that?”
Turning back to the stovetop in an effort to finish with the food, Declan replied, “My mother is a great cook. Interestingly, her skills passed on to me, but not to Alison. God love her, she wouldn’t even know what this room is used for. Now, voilà, lunch is served. Eat up.”
The pair dug into their pasta and fell into a comfortable line of banter. Declan had broken bread with many clients in the past, but he had to admit that none of his business lunches or dinners ever felt this comfortable.
It was friendly. And he liked how easily their conversation seemed to flow. For the first time ever, they weren’t talking about Rosie’s case. They were simply two ordinary people discussing their day-to-day lives. It gave him a better picture of who Kate was when she wasn’t wrapped in stress, worry and sadness.
And he couldn’t deny that he liked it.
“That, Mr. Roe, was absolutely delicious,” complimented Kate as she swallowed her last bite of pasta. “Oh, my goodness, I’m so full I think I’m about to fall asleep after it.”
Chuckling, he replied, “I’m not going to fall for that—you’re cleaning up.”
“And I will—right after I get back from the hospital.”
“Aww, hell, now you’ve got me feeling guilty. Go on away, woman, and I’ll look after this. You look after Rosie. I can let myself out after.” Then realizing this might have sounded too familiar, he added, “If that’s OK?”
“Of course it is. And...thank you. I can’t remember the last time I had such a nice meal. And I definitely can’t remember the last time anyone cooked for me...”
The pair looked at each other then as the words hung in the air. Something had definitely shifted.
“I...I’d better go,” Kate said, looking terrified.
“Of course. But first, let me give you those papers I wanted you to sign. They’re in the car. You can take them with you and I’ll get them back whenever.” He swallowed hard and forced himself to not seem weird. Kate was his client. She was going through a hard time. They had talked—ventured a bit too far into the personal maybe, but it was all OK.
“Great. Will do.”
Kate collected her things and Declan headed out front with her to his Volvo to get the documents.
“Take care and say hello to Rosie for me,” he said, handing them to her. “We’ll have to celebrate properly when she comes home.”
Kate smiled then, tears in her eyes, and, almost without thinking, Declan closed the space between the two of them and gave her a hug.
He felt her arms go around him, squeezing him softly as she returned the contact.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, emotion thick in her voice, before breaking the embrace and getting into the car.
Declan watched her leave, his mind suddenly a maelstrom of thoughts he hadn’t the first clue how to process.