The Guesthouse on the Green Series Box Set 2 by Michelle Vernal

Author:Michelle Vernal [Vernal, Michelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Michelle Vernal
Published: 2020-04-30T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Aisling swept into the house in Blanchardstown that Quinn shared with his mam and dad, glad to be in out of the cold. She’d felt like your character from the Narnia book the half human, half horse one that got frozen as she waited for the bus. Now, the homely smell of fabric softener and fresh baking washed over her. She greeted her soon-to-be mammy-in-law with a big fecky brown noser smile and received a warm one in return. She’d known Mrs Moran since her student days and was very fond of her but lately she’d found herself feeling irritated by her fiancé’s mam’s incessant fussing over Quinn. He wasn’t a baby, he was a grown man and it was ridiculous the way she ran after him.

Quinn’s siblings had all long since left home, as had he until he decided to open his bistro. It was a decision that saw him leave behind his career in London to move back to Dublin. He hadn’t intended to move home but given the soaring accommodation costs in the city and the uncertainty of trying to get a new business off the ground, it had been the sensible thing to do. Sometimes, Aisling thought he’d gotten a little too used to being back in the family fold. She expected them to be a partnership when they finally moved in together at O’Mara’s, the sensible option given Aisling needed to be on site and Quinn’s bistro was a hop, skip and a jump away, and began their married life. You would not find her waiting on her new husband hand and foot the way Mrs Moran was prone to doing with her husband and sons.

Of course, it wasn’t all down to her. Quinn seemed perfectly happy to let his mammy do so. She’d broached the subject with him a few weeks back but he’d shrugged in that laid-back way of his that was at times endearing and at times frustrating and said, ‘I think she feels she has to prove herself after her stroke, you know. She likes to feel needed.’

Aisling had blustered back, ‘But that’s silly.’

‘Aisling,’ Quinn had said in a way that suggested she was very naïve when it came to the stuff of life. ‘Sometimes it’s easier to go with the flow than to upset someone over things that don’t matter in the big picture.’ She’d had the feeling he was talking about her and hadn’t pressed it further, not wanting to hear something she might not like.

‘How’re you, Mrs Moran,’ Aisling asked now, noting she had her customary shamrock apron tied around her waist.

‘Aisling dear, I’ve told you a million times you’re family. It’s Maeve and I’m very well although I’m having problems getting the stains out of Quinn’s chef whites. I’m after trying vinegar and baking soda.’

Aisling wished her mammy could hear this conversation. Not the part about slaving over Quinn’s whites, the other part, because it was her fault she struggled with being on a first name basis with her soon to be in-laws.

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