The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy Read Free Page B

you can have some tea and I’ll start your fire. It’s a damp day.”
    As she spoke she carried Jude’s two enormous suitcases up the stairs as if they were empty. Wishing she’d spent more time in the gym, Jude followed with her tote, her laptop, and her portable printer.
    Brenna showed her two bedrooms, and she was right—Old Maude’s, with its view of the front gardens, was the more pleasant. But Jude got only a hazy impression, for one look at the bed and she succumbed to the jet lag that dropped into her body like a lead weight.
    She only half listened to the cheerful, lilting voice explain about linens, heat, the vagaries of the tiny fireplace in the bedroom as Brenna set the peat to light. Then she followed as if walking through water as Brenna clattered downstairs to put on tea and show her how the kitchen operated.
    She heard something about the pantry being freshly stocked and how she should do her marketing at Duffy’s in the village when she needed supplies. There was more—stacks of peat outside the back door, as Old Maude had preferred it, but wood as well in case she herself preferred that, and how the telephone had been hooked back up again and how to light the fire in the kitchen stove.
    “Ah, there, now, you’re asleep on your feet.” Sympathetic, Brenna pressed a thick blue mug into Jude’s hands. “Take that on up with you and have a lie-down. I’ll start the fire down here for you.”
    “I’m sorry. I can’t seem to focus.”
    “You’ll do better after some sleep. My number’s hereby the phone if you’re needing anything. My family’s barely a kilometer from here, my mother and dad and four sisters, so if there’s anything you need, you’ve only to call or come by the O’Tooles’.”
    “Yes, I—four sisters!”
    Brenna laughed again as she led Jude back down the hall. “Well, my dad kept hoping for a boy, but that’s the way of it. Surrounded by females, he is, even the dog. Up you go, now.”
    “Thank you so much. Really, I’m not usually so. . . vague.”
    “Well, it’s not every day you fly over the ocean now, is it? Do you want anything before I go?”
    “No, I . . .” She leaned on the banister, blinked. “Oh, I forgot. There was a woman in the house. Where did she go?”
    “A woman, you say? Where?”
    “In the window.” She swayed, nearly spilled the tea, then shook her head clear. “There was a woman in the window upstairs, looking out when I got here.”
    “Was there now?”
    “Yes. A blond woman, young, very lovely.”
    “Ah, that would be Lady Gwen.” Brenna turned, slipped into the living room, and lit the stack of peat. “She doesn’t show herself to just everyone.”
    “Where did she go?”
    “Oh, she’s still here, I imagine.” Satisfied that the peat had caught, Brenna rose, brushed off the knees of her trousers. “She’s been here three hundred years, give or take. She’s your ghost, Miss Murray.”
    “My what?”
    “Your ghost. But don’t trouble yourself about her. She won’t be after harming you any. Hers is a sad tale, and a story for another time, when you’re not so tired.”
    It was hard to concentrate. Jude’s mind wanted to shut down, her body to shut off, but it seemed important to clear up this one point. “You’re trying to say the house is haunted?”
    “Sure and it’s haunted. Didn’t your granny tell you?”
    “I don’t believe she mentioned it. You’re telling me you believe in ghosts.”
    Brenna lifted her brow again. “Well, did you see her or didn’t you? There you are,” she said when Jude merely frowned. “Have yourself a nap, and if you’re up and about later, come on down to Gallagher’s Pub and I’ll buy you your first pint.”
    Too baffled to concentrate, Jude merely shook her head. “I don’t drink beer.”
    “Oh, well now, that’s a bloody shame,” Brenna said, sounding both shocked and sincere. “Well, good day to you, Miss Murray.”
    “Jude.” She murmured it and could do