PRESENT DAY
LES TROIS-MOUTIERS
LOIRE VALLEY, FRANCE
Laine paused in the shadows of the hall when she heard the telltale clink of crystal in the estate house kitchen.
For the late hour, everyone should have gone home. She peeked around the corner. Cormac stood at the central island with his back to her, collecting plates and champagne flutes and emptying them in the copper sink. He moved with ease—as a caterer might, always comfortable in a kitchen, even one not his own. Seemingly unconcerned with cleaning in wedding attire, he’d rolled the oxford shirt at his forearms.
Past him, an extended farmhouse table of rugged wood lay bare. Gone were Grandma Helene’s pastries—Ellie’s request for authentic French pain au chocolat instead of wedding cake—crocks of onion soup, mini towers of quiche Lorraine, and fig tartelettes that had seen the guests merry and full. The buffet had been swept up, and glass hurricanes were all that remained. A centerpiece of candles softened the room with its glow and spiced the air with cinnamon and cloves. A span of floor-to-ceiling windows showed off a million tiny shadows beyond, as winter continued its march through the vineyard rows.
Laine had snuggled Cassie in bed and rushed down the back stairs for a quick good-bye before Ellie and Quinn fled off on their honeymoon. Just a quick peck on her friend’s cheek, a hug to the happy couple, and she could slip back upstairs before anyone saw her.
Instead, he was there.
Though she still wore her bridesmaid dress, she was undone with no makeup and mismatched argyle socks she’d pulled straight up to the knees. Laine tightened the charcoal linen wrap over her bare shoulders and turned on a dime, only to find her silent escape shattered in the next breath when aged floorboards groaned beneath her toes.
She clamped her eyes shut.
The clip of Cormac’s shoes against hardwood drew closer, until he stopped in the arched doorway, turning over a dish towel and plate in his hands. “So, someone else is awake. Thought everyone had gone up.”
“I was just going to say good night.” At his tipped brow, she clarified. “To Ellie and Quinn. Before they leave, of course. Night train to Lucerne.”
“I see. Then ye weren’t hidin’ around the corner? Because if yer still hungry, ’tis okay. I’d be takin’ my life in my hands if I moved anythin’ about in Gran’s kitchen, but I think I can make somethin’ o’ what’s left. Heat up soup. Or there are tarts in the pantry.”
“Oh no. I couldn’t eat another bite. The caterer’s choices were wonderful. I can’t remember ever tasting better.”
“Thank ye. ’Tis high praise indeed.”
She raised her eyebrows before she could stop herself and he smiled, aptly reading the “You?” in her reaction. It appeared he cooked. And showed up at the last minute to lend a hand at the wedding of a brother he hadn’t seen in years—a combination Laine hadn’t the first idea how to read.
“But I was mostly just doin’ my grandmother’s biddin’, so credit’s hers. Family recipes passed down an’ all. Ye know how it goes.”
“Oh yes. Family recipes.”
Cormac paused, looking back a little too long, then quickly turned, as if trying not to notice an air of awkwardness that had befallen the room. He went back to drying and stacking plates on the open shelves. “Yer from Michigan? A little far west o’ here, yeah?”
“We are. Cassie, the flower girl—she’s my daughter, and we came together.”
He turned, nodded with the hint of a polite smile. The kind that the mention of children could always bring to a conversation.
“She’s a blessin’. Had the whole weddin’ party charmed in under a minute, I believe. An’ my grandfather seemed ready to give her anythin’ short of a sugar bowl an’ a castle had she asked for ’em.”
Laine laughed. It was true—Cassie had a way about her. A quiet innocence with springy chocolate curls kissed by the sun at the tips, and a dimpled smile that melted the family patriarch’s heart, even if he could no longer see it with his eyes.
Even so, in talking about her daughter, a tiny warning bell chimed within Laine. An unexpected laugh was fine. But a laugh attached to a man with an easy smile, who made witty remarks and would willingly dry dishes at midnight—the combination sparked a notion to linger in his presence, and that was a little too close for comfort.
Why not back out now?
“So, are Quinn and Ellie still here?”
“They are.”
Cormac paused, and Laine thought she detected the slightest bit of wariness in him when he turned to face her. He almost looked . . . sorry. Was that right?
“Quinn said ye’d be down an’ to send ye in. They’re waitin’ in the front room.” Cormac tipped his head on the last word, toward the room with the rustic charm and the incredible fireplace seating area that overlooked the family’s vineyards.
Laine peeked through the arched doorway, seeing the glow of firelight against ivory walls at the end of the hall. “Oh, okay. Thank you then.” She smiled and turned—fast. The goal to be cordial but shuffle away as quickly as her feet could carry her.
“An’ just so ye know, yer out for a craic wit’ those socks.”
Laine froze. While she had no idea what craic meant, she faced him, bound and determined to exude nothing but nonchalance. “It’s cold. The hardwood and the marble entry, they . . .”
“Have a bite to ’em. Yeah. That much I remember. No doubt ye can find it warmer by the fire.” He swung the dish towel onto his shoulder and nodded in a dismissive gesture, before he turned to hang a line of champagne flutes under one of the open shelves. “Nice to have met ye, Laine.”
“Um . . . yes—you too. And good night.”
Laine hurried out, having tripped over the newness of interest, attraction, or, heaven help her, whatever that mess was. With each step down the hall, she forced herself to forget how muddled her heart was at the moment and paste serenity back in her smile. Ellie and Quinn would be off to Switzerland soon, and the very last thing she wanted was to reveal anything that might shadow their happiness.
She eased in, stopping in the doorway. Ellie was nestled in a nailhead chair by the fire, a blanket in a spiced orange weave draped across her lap. Her elegant bridal updo was still twisted at her nape, but she’d changed into jeans and a cream off-shoulder tee. The fire danced, idling through cracks and pops as Quinn knelt beside the chair, already in his jeans and faded ringer tee, wedding ring reflecting from fingers he’d casually laced with his wife’s.
They watched the fire, Ellie leaning into his side while he whispered something that made her smile, as if they alone had the monopoly on enviable, just-married moments.
“Sorry to interrupt. Cormac said you wanted to speak to me. But I can come back later if—”
“No. Come in, Laine. Please.” Quinn smiled in welcome, then pressed a kiss to the underside of Ellie’s wrist, pinning her with a soft amorous look, then released her. “I was just leavin’.” He got to his feet.
Shouldn’t they have left for the night train to Switzerland by now? The last few guests had trickled out the front doors of the estate house some time ago. Laine scanned the entry by the door. No suitcases or bags stacked and ready to go. Just an odd serenity as Quinn crossed the room and the fire continued its dance on the hearth.
“I’ll just be upstairs if ye need me.” Quinn smiled, nodded one of those tip-of-the-chin motions that harkened back to the days when Mr. Darcy characters bowed as they left a lady’s presence. Save he was sporting hair tied at his nape and a chin in need of a shave, and probably wouldn’t have buttoned up in an oxford if someone paid him.
The wedding was only the second time Laine had met Quinn in person, but his old-world manners told her the Foley brothers were far more alike than one might judge at first glance.
“I don’t want to intrude.” Laine hovered in the doorway after Quinn headed up the stairs. “I was just putting Cassie down when Quinn said you wanted to see me. But you could always call me when you two get home. We could talk then.”
“Is Cass alright?”
“Tonight she is, yeah. Out like a light, thank heaven. I think we’re still making up for the rough plane ride over. She’s days in and hasn’t been able to settle down.” Laine drifted into the room, falling into their natural rhythm of normal, everyday sisterly talk. She pulled the wrap tighter around her shoulders. “And here I thought the—what were the pastries called, what you served instead of the wedding cake?”
“Pain au chocolat.”
“Right. Those. I thought they’d have her up for several more hours. I didn’t account for the fact that jet lag can triumph over French pastries any day—even in the bloodstream of a four-year-old.”
“Then we’ll have to get Cass used to the time change while she’s here. And the sweets, for that matter. Grandma Helene has already made her a pet, and I warn you now that she communicates her love with food. I wish Auntie Claire had been here tonight.” Ellie’s face warmed in a smile of remembrance. “I only got to know Quinn’s great-aunt for a short time before she passed. She was a rare one, and she’d have loved both of you.”
Ellie scooted the chair opposite her out with her foot. “Come. Sit.”
Laine obeyed, albeit on the edge of the cushion. Something told her the moment—serene as it was—had more to it than a relaxing chat by a fire. “Is something going on? I thought you and Quinn would have left for your honeymoon by now.”
Ellie twirled one of the blanket’s threads around her index finger.
“Oh no, Ellie . . . Don’t worry about us. Cassie and I can get to the airport just fine. Don’t change your plans on our account.”
Ellie was beautiful—wedding makeup and hair intact and firelight twinkling against the diamond teardrops still dangling from her ears—but it was plain to see very real concern etched her features. Her eyes were damming back tears, and her forehead pressed in a deep crease.
“No—it’s not that. It’s . . .” A pause, a wobble of the head side to side. Ellie was stalling. “The honeymoon’s kind of on hold for a minute.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I wanted to talk to you first.”
The wind was sucked out of Laine’s lungs.
I don’t know how . . . but she knows . . .
The absolute last thing Laine wanted to do was steal any of Ellie’s happiness. Not on her wedding night. Not on the one day she was supposed to feel carefree and happy and remember always. Finding out that Evan had left them . . . that he’d moved out and moved on nearly a year before . . . had a new life in Seattle and signed divorce papers with no desire for reconciliation—it must have so upset Ellie that she wanted to talk about it. Right now, right here.
And I can’t hide it anymore.
“Ellie, I know that I—”
“I have cancer.”
They’d blurted partial confessions at the same time, but Ellie’s arrow struck first, the force of which nearly shattered Laine in a million pieces. All of her concerns about the divorce, the secrets left unsaid, bowed to the numbness that rushed in.
“You have . . . ?”
“We might as well say the c-word as much as we need to. It won’t make it go away if I treat it like Voldemort.” Ellie paused on a nervous laugh and reached out to pull one of Laine’s hands into hers. “Invasive ductal carcinoma. An awful long name for breast cancer.”
“I can’t believe this. I mean—how long have you known?”
“A few weeks. I was losing weight. Felt tired. I thought it was the stress of Grandma Vi’s passing and trying to renovate an old castle—it’s hard work to have timber put in ceiling vaults, you know? But then I found a lump and the doctor ran a few tests. Here we are . . . plot twist, as they say. So what better reason not to wait? Quinn and I thought we should get married and start this life together—even if we don’t get on a train right after.”
“So that’s why.”
“Yes. That’s why, Lainey. And that’s why I wore heels tonight . . . why I walked through the snow and stopped at the chapel door . . . I wanted to feel it. To really live it. Because I might need to remember those very good things in the days ahead.”
The firelight danced across Ellie’s face, softening everything in the room. And suddenly, through her friend’s resolve, her own cracked. Laine wrangled her newly chopped hair at the base of her neck, gripping a fist around it like it was the last bit of rope she had to cling to. It felt right to cry, so she allowed tears to come, free and open.
“So, what do we do? I mean, what did the doctors say? Is the treatment chemo or radiation? Or is it surgery? I feel stupid because I don’t know.”
“It’s okay. I had a lumpectomy already and started chemo last week.”
“What? How could you not tell me this?” Laine melted to the floor, kneeling in much the same way Quinn had before he left.
“I tried to—more than once. But I didn’t want to burden you. I thought if I could call you after the wedding when you knew I had an amazing someone who’d stay by my side, then the news might come easier. I know you’re busy with Cassie and everything at home. I can’t believe it—you’re a mom. It makes me cry to see you with her, after everything you and Evan went through to try for a baby.” Ellie rolled her lips in on a wave of emotion. “Since the adoption, I just smile. Now you have one . . .” Her palm drifted to the apple of her cheek. Tears had tipped the length of her lashes. A soft swipe, and the moisture was gone.
“Ellie . . . I don’t know what to say.”
“I’m just so glad you’re here. I couldn’t keep talking on the phone, posting on social media anymore, and not say anything. It felt like lying to the world. And to you,” she whispered, and squeezed Laine’s hand. “And we don’t do that with each other. We don’t keep secrets, so I couldn’t keep this one any longer.”
And Laine’s heart sank like a stone again . . .
“How long do you have to go through chemo?”
“I have more treatments that we know of, and then we’ll have to see where we are. It’s a common form of cancer, and our oncologist believes the prognosis is good.” Ellie shrugged. Like it was no big deal that something was breathing fire on the inside of her. “At least I get a small break to go to Dublin, so there’s a few things to work out and then we’ll be back here for the next round of adjuvant therapy.”
“Wait—Dublin? I thought you weren’t going on a honeymoon.”
“We’re not. But Cormac showed up tonight for more than celebration. There’s something to do with their father and a legal thing Quinn assures he’ll give me full details on later. But the point is, it’s serious enough that Cormac has asked Quinn to go home. At least for a little while, to get some things sorted out.”
Laine let her gaze drift to the weathered wood door in the foyer. She pictured them leaving to board their train—turning over tickets and selecting a tucked-away pair of seats to speed off to their new life. Instead, she couldn’t bear to think of them staying put to endure chemo—refused to consider that a diagnosis could wipe out that future.
“How could Cormac ask Quinn to leave you now?”
“He didn’t know. Not any of this. In fact, we didn’t expect him to show up at all. Quinn told him after the wedding—about all of this with me, why it’s not the right time to go home. And they were going to leave it there. Cormac would go back to Ireland and Quinn stay with me. But I think it is the right time. If there’s ever an opportunity to make peace with someone—especially family—then it should be taken. So I told Quinn he needs to go.”
“I don’t understand. Why would you want to go through something like this alone?”
“I won’t be alone.” Ellie smiled, a twinkle lighting her misty eyes. “We made a promise tonight, Quinn and I, in that chapel. That we’d travel life together. And I think now more than ever, I want that peace in our lives. We’re not giving anything up in this battle. In fact, when all is said and done, I’m afraid this cancer will be sorry it messed with Vi Carver’s granddaughter. But hearing the word? It changes you. As a person and as a couple. In a blink everything we thought we’d planned is different. The castle restoration is on hold—not forgotten, just paused for this bump in the road.”
Ellie was right. Words could change everything.
No matter if you watered them down just to make it through another day. For the last year and more, words had caused Laine to feel tiny clicks on the lens of how she’d looked at life. When adoption had been a blessing to a wife, but a diversion to her husband. When divorce had become a regular part of speech. When Realtors declared sold about their house—their whole world up to that point. And when Laine had packed boxes and marked storage on every one, more change was ushered in.
“But why did it have to be you? After everything. This was supposed to be your fairy tale.”
“It still is. Quinn’s not going anywhere. And just being able to talk about it with him helps, because it’s real and not going away if we ignore it. I want the freedom to fall apart in his arms if I need to. Or to fight it hard one day and wake up and stay in bed for most of the next, if that’s what will help in the moment.”
“And that’s what I want too. So how can I help? What can I do?”
Ellie leaned in to glance at the upstairs landing, then lowered her voice to a barely there whisper over the popping fire. “Quinn needs to make up with his brother—end whatever this feud is the family has going. And believe me, he’s taking me to task on it. My husband—”
She smiled, then caught her bottom lip with her teeth. “Okay. Gotta get used to saying that. Quinn is fine to talk about anything unless it’s what happened between those two or why he hasn’t gone home to see their father in years. And that’s not like him. Quinn treats his grandparents with such care. He’s gentle with Cassie. And he’s always shown me love and respect, so I can’t understand why there’s this wall where the other side of his family is concerned. It’s just not like him.”
“Well, you know my family dynamic . . . So I agree with you—it’s good to want to bring them together. But is it going to add more stress for you?”
“Somehow I don’t feel stressed. I’m happy and scared and angry all at the same time. But not stressed. And while I didn’t expect Quinn’s predicament, this solution feels right in the right now. Cormac’s asked for help, and I think we should give it if we can. But to do that, I have something to ask of you. I know it’s a lot, so I’m just putting it here between us. You can say no and I won’t say another thing about it. But . . . if you could stay, just a little longer, I wondered if you and Cassie might go with us.”
“To Dublin?” Another something-new Laine didn’t expect on top of everything else in her life. Her thoughts drifted over the uncertainty. “He spoke to me, in the kitchen. Cormac.”
“Don’t worry. I told him about Evan. Besides, we’re family now. He wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that.”
Laine had to avert her eyes from Ellie’s perceptive gaze, since she didn’t contradict any statement about her ex-husband. They were too close of friends for Ellie to miss the tiniest flinch of some deception in her face, and then the truth was bound to spill out.
“No, he didn’t say anything out of line.” Laine peeked down the hall. The glow from the candles had been snuffed, leaving only a passage of darkness. “But he was kind. And that was because he knew what you were going to tell me, didn’t he?”
“Yes. He did.”
“Ellie . . .”
Words refused to come. Laine didn’t know what to say. All of a sudden, she was left unprepared to comfort the one who’d been her person through everything. The chasm of cancer and loss . . . It was too great a divide to cross with mere words. So she crossed it with her arms, enclosing her best friend’s neck in an embrace that would speak for her.
“I’m so, so sorry,” she whispered against Ellie’s ear. “But I’m not going anywhere. Okay? I’m in.”
Ellie bit her bottom lip, nodding, wiping moisture away with her palms, and they hugged like they’d never let go.
“Well.” Laine straightened up and brushed tears from the underside of her lashes. “I’ll let you go spend time with your husband. No more crying tonight because we’ve got a big trip to plan. Good thing Cassie and I already have passports. So I guess our next adventure is Ireland, hmm?”
“Ireland it is.”
Laine rose and turned toward the stairs, slowing up when she gripped the cool iron rail in her palm. Thoughts swirled—too many for the moment. So she’d start with the easiest one for them both. “Um . . . Ellie?”
She looked up from the trance of the fire. “Yeah?”
“What’s a craic?”
A smile later, Ellie whispered, “Oh, sweet friend, I’m afraid you’re about to find out.”