Read Online A Turn for the Bad by Sheila Connolly - Free Book Online

slowly nearer to the road, not bothered by the wind. “I miss Gran. I guess I miss
knowing
a place—how to get from here to there, what neighborhoods to stay out of, that kind of thing.”
    â€œI understand. There are far fewer choices to be made here. Now Dublin—that’s a city. You should visit it someday.”
    â€œNot Cork?”
    â€œDublin’s more, well, interesting, I suppose. Diverse. Of course, there are quite a number of tourists there.”
    â€œOf course. But I’m one.”
    â€œAre you, now?” Gillian glanced at her briefly beforesliding into a parking space on the main—and only—street in Union Hall. “Breakfast first. The coffee shop’s down at the end there. Then we’ll come back for the fish. And don’t tell me you don’t like fish, because I’ll pay you no mind.”
    â€œI like fish!” Maura protested. “It’s just that I don’t know how to cook it.”
    â€œAnd what do you know how to cook?” Gillian threw back at her.
    â€œI can fry just about anything. And I can boil potatoes.”
    Gillian sighed melodramatically. “It’s a start. Then let me introduce you to the fish seller and his fish—after we’ve had our breakfast.”
    They walked the half block to the coffee shop at the end of a row of shops, including a small grocery store. When Gillian walked in, she was greeted by a tall, slender woman a couple of years older than Maura. “Gillian! I thought you were off to Dublin fer the winter.”
    â€œI was, but I’ve got to clear out my studio so my friend can sell it out from under me.”
    â€œToo bad. We’ve sold a couple of your paintings, but I hadn’t time to send you the checks. Remind me to give them to you before you go.”
    â€œThat’s grand. Can you do us breakfast?”
    â€œOf course. Take yer pick of the tables. Coffee?”
    â€œTea for me, please. Oh, I’ve forgotten my manners. Have you met Maura Donovan? She’s running Sullivan’s in Leap now.”
    The woman behind the counter looked Maura over. “I’d heard there was a new owner, but I haven’t stopped in fer . . . I don’t know how long. Yeh haven’t been in here before, have yeh, Maura?”
    â€œNo, I’ve been pretty much chained to the pub, learning how to run the place. Gillian had to drag me here by the hair.”
    The woman laughed. “I hear what yer sayin’! Runnin’ yer own shop keeps you busy, as I know too well. Sit, and I’ll let you look at the menu.”
    Maura and Gillian sat at a small table next to one of the big front windows. Maura could catch a glimpse of the harbor down the low hill, although the boats were farther along and out of sight. “Thank you,” she said.
    â€œFor what?” Gillian looked up from her menu with surprise.
    â€œFor making me come somewhere that isn’t the pub or home. Or the bank or the grocery store. That’s about all I’ve seen since I got here, but I didn’t realize I’d gotten so—what, ingrown? Obsessed?”
    â€œAh, Maura, give yourself a break. It’s all been new to you. But if you’re settled on staying, then you should get out and meet more people, especially the shop owners and such like yourself.”
    â€œPoint taken,” Maura said, then looked down at her menu. “So, what’s good here?”
    â€œEverything. You should fill up, in case you can’t find the time for lunch.”
    They ordered a hearty breakfast, and Maura could feel herself unwinding. Why hadn’t she explored more of the area and talked to more people? In part because until recently she hadn’t been sure she was going to stay for long and didn’t see the need—or maybe she hadn’t wanted to get too attached? And because, as Gillian had said, she’d been really nervous—probably more than she