Her Irish Inheritance by Michele Brouder

Author:Michele Brouder
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: single father romance, clean and wholesome romance, sweet romance, second chance romance, irish romance
Publisher: Michele Brouder
Published: 2019-09-14T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

At breakfast the following morning, Caroline was ravenous. And tired. Since she’d met Patrick and his daughters flying kites, she hadn’t had a good night’s sleep. They had dominated her thoughts. The fact that he had two young daughters should definitely have dampened her desire and attraction to Patrick. But it hadn’t, and that scared her.

Breda, wearing an apron with an image of the Eiffel Tower on it, set a steaming white china pot of tea on Caroline’s table. With a broad smile, she said, “I didn’t know you were the one who inherited Maeve Burke’s property. How on earth did you know her?”

Caroline decided it was best to keep it simple. “We became friends.”

“And Patrick Kelly is working on the reno of the property!” Breda made no move to walk away, despite the fact that all the other tables were full. In the background, while Breda chatted with Caroline, Joe dashed from table to table, delivering tea, plates of breakfast, and racks of toast.

Breda shook her head and tutted. “What happened to his wife was just terrible. Having to raise those young girls all by himself.”

“It was,” Caroline agreed.

Breda gazed out the window as if something had caught her attention, but her expression looked as if she was far away. “It happened to me as well.”

Caroline looked up quizzically at her.

Breda explained, “My first husband pulled into the passageway of our farm one day, but didn’t come into the house. I wondered, ‘What in the name of God is taking him so long to come inside?’” She shook her head again. “I went out and saw the car door open and Martin thrown down on the ground. It gave me quite a fright. I called the doctor straightaway, but Martin was gone. Brain aneurysm, they said. He wasn’t even thirty. We’d been married for a year.” She laid her hand across her chest, fingers splayed.

“I’m so sorry,” Caroline said.

Breda looked at Caroline as if she’d forgotten she was there, and shrugged. “It was awful at the time. I’d been a city girl from Limerick, and suddenly I was a widow out in a rural area with a farm. I ended up selling the farm to Martin’s brother—I’d no notion of milking cows—and I came down to Inch, bought this place, and started the B & B.” She glanced over at Joe and smiled. “Ten years ago, I married my butcher.” She caught Joe’s eye and he favored her with a grin, almost as if he knew what she was talking about.

Caroline smiled. That was the kind of story she liked: the ones with happy endings.

“I’d better get back to work. Love doesn’t fry up the eggs.” Breda laughed and breezed out of the dining room.

***

“I can take those down for you if you want,” Patrick said, standing in the doorway wearing a white T-shirt and a pair of jeans.

Caroline frowned. “That’s all right, I can do it.” She’d started removing the upper cabinet doors for refinishing.

“Okay, but if you change your mind, let me know,” he said, lingering in the doorway.

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