Night Of The Blackbird Read Free Page B

something like this might come up. I’ve had Michael checking into the permit situation in Boston as well as Orlando.”
    â€œYou’re kidding! He didn’t say a word.”
    â€œHe knows how to keep a confidence. I didn’t want you to suspect I was second-guessing you.”
    â€œGreat.”
    â€œHey, kid, it’s a show we should have done before this.”
    She grinned, suddenly feeling a tremendous sense of relief. “But you and Gina were looking forward to doing the whole Disney thing.”
    â€œWe’ll still do it. We’ll just reschedule. And the kids won’t mind—they didn’t really understand what was going on anyway.”
    She smiled. He had a point. At eight months, the twins undoubtedly didn’t care one way or the other whether they got to see Mickey Mouse or not.
    â€œDo you want something to eat?” he asked her. “Or are you just going to drink your lunch?” He indicated her beer glass. It was empty, and she didn’t even remember drinking the whole thing.
    â€œI am Irish,” she muttered.
    He laughed, leaning forward again. “Hey! No ill will intended. I just wondered if you wanted food or not.”
    â€œYes, yes, I guess I should eat.”
    â€œThey make a nice salad here.”
    â€œGreat. I think I’ll have a hamburger.”
    â€œAh, we’re being a wild renegade today, eh?” He teased, motioning to their waiter.
    â€œWhat? Are you trying to be just a wee bit condescending, so I don’t have to be eternally grateful for making you change the entire schedule for the season?”
    He laughed. “Maybe. Maybe it’s just amusing to see you so afraid of going home.”
    â€œI am not afraid of going home! I go home all the time. Here comes the waiter. Just order me a hamburger—and another beer.”
    Josh did so diligently, but there was still a sparkle in his eyes.
    â€œSo what are you so afraid of?” he asked softly, once the waiter had taken their order and departed.
    â€œI’m not afraid. I go home all the time.”
    â€œBut this time you seem uneasy. Is it the fact that you think we should film at your home as an excuse to go there? The whole thing does fit nicely. There are a lot of Irish in the United States. And on Saint Patrick’s Day—”
    â€œEveryone is Irish. Yes, I know,” she murmured. Her second beer arrived. She flashed the waiter a smile. He grinned and left. She took a sip of the brew immediately, then sat back, running her fingertip along the edge of the glass.
    â€œSo? It’s perfect.” Josh said.
    â€œPerfect—and what a cast of characters we have.”
    â€œYour mother is charming. So is your father.”
    â€œMmm. They are. Just…”
    â€œJust what?”
    â€œWell, they are…eccentric.”
    â€œYour parents? No.”
    â€œStop teasing. You know Granny Jon. She had me convinced for years that I had to be really good or the banshees would get me on the way to the outhouse. I think that Colleen, Patrick and I were all out of high school before we suddenly realized the great flaw in her terror tactics—we didn’t have an outhouse.”
    â€œYour grandmother is adorable.”
    â€œLike a hedgehog,” Moira agreed. “Then there’s my father, who has yet to accept the fact that in the U.S., the Fighting Irish are a football team.”
    â€œNot true! I’ve watched college football games with him. Though he does root for Notre Dame, I’ll give you that.”
    â€œMy mother will give speeches on how the traditional dish is bacon and cabbage, not corned beef, and somewhere along the line, if you’re not careful, Dad will get going on English imperialism against the rights of the Gaelic-speaking people of the world, and then he’ll get going on the wonders of America. He’ll forget that as a country we massacred hundreds of thousands of Indians and