A Moment in Time (58 page)

Mr. Larabee nodded. "More than a visit, Bridget. She wants you to bring her grandson home. Her words."

"Home?"

"Where he belongs, according to her."

An odd tremor of fear and excitement coalesced and pulsed through Bridget. Her cheeks grew warm and she clutched the fabric of her skirt in both fists. "He
belongs
with
me
."

Mr. Larabee pulled off his glasses and leveled his gaze on her. "Mrs. Mulligan's said her late husband's will was pretty specific."

"Specific?" She knew it was too good to be true. There was probably some catch to all this that would keep Jacob from receiving his inheritance.

"I mentioned earlier, this is what's called an entailed estate. One family member can't sell any portion without the permission of them all."

"I remember."

"Your son will be entitled to an inheritance when he reaches his majority."

"That's good. Culley would've wanted that."

Mr. Larabee sighed. "They may require proof of paternity since the marriage was sudden and secret—"

"I'm not the one who kept it secret."

"I know, but they can probably prevent Jacob from inheriting anything, or at least drag it out for many years." Mr. Larabee met her gaze. "Going there will show good faith, and—let's face facts—you have nothing here except your job with us."

Bridget reminded herself of the eviction notice. She had a child to feed, and that child's daddy might finally come through with some support. Remembering Culley's laughing eyes, tears welled in her own. She'd much rather have had Culley with her all along than have his property now without him.

In fact, she owed it to Culley to make sure his son took his rightful place in the Mulligan family. Pride made her lift her chin and square her shoulders. A slow, determined smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. "Then I reckon I'll take my son to meet his daddy's family."

"That's the spirit." Mr. Larabee returned her smile. "When shall I tell Mrs. Mulligan to expect you?"

A sinking sensation struck Bridget. The final blow. Her mouth went dry and her eyes burned. "Never." She held her hands out, palms up. "I don't have the money for the trip." Her breath came out in a whoosh and she fell back against the chair. Defeated. "I guess that's the end of—"

"No. It's just the beginning." Mr. Larabee smiled again and handed another envelope to Bridget. "Open it."

Shaking from the inside out, she leaned forward and took the envelope and looked inside. "It's full of cash."

Mr. Larabee nodded. "Mrs. Mulligan wired the money for you and Jacob to use for plane fare."

"I see." Bridget stared at the money in amazement. "And she trusts me enough to believe I won't use this for something else?"

"She said if you don't bring Jacob to Ireland, she'll assume you lied about his paternity."

Bridget's pride reared its offended head and she rose, her knees quaking beneath her. "I never lie."

Mr. Larabee rose as well and gave her a satisfied nod. "I know."

After several deep breaths, she trusted herself to meet his gaze again. His eyes twinkled approvingly.

"Now what do I do?" She held the envelope against her chest, afraid it might vanish as magically as it had appeared. "I don't even have a passport. And what about General Lee?"

"We'll walk you through the process, but it will take a few weeks," Mr. Larabee promised. He rolled his eyes heavenward and chuckled. "And, heaven help me, we'll take care of General Lee."

She laughed along with him, and a strange new emotion filled and empowered her. A feeling she'd rarely known in her twenty-eight years.

Hope.

"Is there enough here to buy plane tickets
and
repay you and Mrs. Larabee for your generosity?"

"That's not ne—"

"Yes, it
is
necessary." She met his gaze and he nodded.

"Very well. I'm sure there's plenty."

A huge grin spread across her face and she hugged the envelope close. "A real castle, Mr. Larabee?"

He nodded, smiling. "
Caisleán Dubh
—Cash-Lawn Doov. At least that's how Mrs. Mulligan pronounced it."

"Doov?" Bridget echoed. "I wonder what it means."

"Mrs. Larabee said you'd want to know, so she looked it up on the internet. We think it means black."

"Black? So
Caisleán Dubh
must mean Castle Black."

"Or Black Castle, I suppose." He folded his arms across his lean abdomen, his expression paternal. "We're going to miss you, but I think you're about to embark on an adventure."

"Lord, yes." Bridget stared out the window at the soft drizzle. "An adventure."

"I think I'm jealous."

She smiled. "You're just going to miss my biscuits and red-eye gravy."

The man blushed to his ears and gave an emphatic nod. "And everything else you cook."

"I'll leave recipes."

"Much obliged."

She released a long sigh and grinned. "By golly, that finance company can have the trailer with my blessing."

"Good for you."

"After all," she hugged herself to make sure she was awake, "who needs a rundown old trailer when they have a castle?"

Links to purchase

Mulligan Stew

through your favorite eBook Retailer

can be found at
 

Deb Stover's eBook Discovery author page

 
www.ebookdiscovery.com/DebStover

Discover more with

 
eBookDiscovery.com

Page forward for an excerpt from

Deb Stover's highly-praised

Some Like It Hotter

A Time Travel Historical (western) Romance

Excerpt from

Some Like It Hotter

by

Deb Stover

Chapter 1

"I'll bet Dirty Harry never had to do this," Mike Faricy said, leaning back against the worn vinyl upholstery.

"I hear that." Barney aimed his binoculars toward the three-story building again.

Parked in a lonely alley behind a waterfront warehouse, the Chevy was more like a prison cell than a car. Darkness settled over the sleeping city of Natchez like a shroud; a thick bank of fog from the river blotted out the stars. The streetlights appeared as nothing more than faint golden halos in the unseasonably cool, moisture-laden air.

Trying to fill the boring hours with happier thoughts, Mike allowed himself a smile. Barney and Carrie's great news more than compensated for the gloomy ambiance. "Man, this is great—I'm going to be an uncle," Mike said, feeling himself warm from within. His sister, Carrie, had been trying for years to have a baby. Finally, it looked as if her dream might come true. "Let's see, today's June twentieth, so when's the baby due?"

"Sometime in early March, you'll be an uncle and I'll be a dad." Barney gave a satisfied grunt, keeping his curly head turned toward the dark building as he spoke. "I hate stake-outs."

"Yeah. Me, too." Mike sighed. "Having a brother-in-law for my partner's bad enough. I can just imagine what having an expectant father around is going to be like."

"It'll be far freakin' out, and you know it." Barney chuckled low in his throat, never interrupting his surveillance of the still-dark building. "You don't suppose Milton's men are going to let us down again tonight, do you?"

"Nah." Mike shifted in his seat to peer toward the building. "If they do, it'll be embarrassing as hell after all the trouble we had convincing the state police this was Milton's point of operation."

"A little town like Natchez sure as hell isn't the most likely spot." Barney shot Mike a crooked grin, barely visible in the increasing darkness. "Yeah, Mike, I'd say after ten days of this crap, it's past time for them to come out and play."

"That's for sure."

"So, you think the kid'll be as good-lookin' as his old man?"