“Upstairs trying on every article of clothing she owns, trying to decide on a first day of school outfit. I can’t believe summer’s nearly over.”
“You’ve had lots of changes.”
“This year has been…crazy. I lost my mother, got Kennedy back, gained a daughter, started a new business, and found you. I barely recognize my life anymore.”
Flynn laced his fingers at her back. “A lot of good in there, though.”
“Yeah.” She lifted her head. “I wish my mother could’ve met you.”
It wasn’t lost on Flynn that had Joan still been alive, he might never have stuck around long enough to get here. Would Pru have made that first move without the impending adoption hanging over her head? Would he have even realized what he was missing? “I wish I could’ve met her. I heard so many stories about her over the years. Kennedy loved her very much.”
“We all did. She had the biggest heart. Nobody loved like she did.”
He stroked a hand through her hair. “I’d say the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”
Her lips curved. The knock on the door wiped the smile right off her face. “Oh sure, now she knocks,” Pru muttered.
“Friendly, professional,” Flynn murmured. “We’ve got this.” He hoped he was right.
Pru had a welcoming smile pasted on as she opened the door. “Miss Coogan. Welcome. Please come in.”
As before, Lydia Coogan was dressed in business attire, the briefcase slung over her shoulder. Her no nonsense shoes tapped an impatient rhythm as she strode inside.
“Can I offer you some coffee? A glass of tea?”
“No.” After an absurdly long pause, she added. “Thank you.”
Pru’s smile flickered. “All right then. Please come through to the family parlor. We won’t be disturbed there.”
The woman perched on the edge of one of the chairs, back ramrod straight. Flynn and Pru sat across from her on the sofa. There’d be no relaxing during this meeting, and maybe there shouldn’t be. This woman had set herself up as enemy from day one. He reached automatically for Pru’s hand, feeling a matching tension coiling through her.
“I’ll be brief,” Miss Coogan said.
Flynn doubted she knew how to be anything but.
She pulled a file out of the briefcase, flipping it open. “I’ve been checking your references, Mr. Bohannon. The six you provided all checked out, though all expressed their surprise at your involvement with Miss Reynolds.”
“As we said before, we kept our relationship quiet,” Flynn said.
Miss Coogan ignored that. “I’m sure you read in the paperwork, each of your references is then asked to provide an additional reference as part of the process. I’ve been working my way through those, which has taken some time, given the time difference between here and Ireland.”
Was he supposed to apologize for that?
She consulted something in the file. “Miss Reynolds, you arrived in Galway on May twenty-fifth, two years ago, correct?”
“Yes.”
“You and your sister Kennedy spent a day there, before traveling to Ennis, where you met Mr. Bohannon.”
“That’s correct.”
“Where did you meet him?”
“He was playing in a pub there.”
Miss Coogan’s gaze felt almost hostile as she flicked it from Pru back to the notes in her lap. “And do either of you happen to remember the name of that pub?”
“No. Callahan’s? Gallagher’s? One of those Irish surnames probably. I was there for two weeks, and I ate in a lot of pubs. I don’t remember that one in particular. Certainly not after all this time.”