back toward the stoop. “Are you settling in, then? You have all you need?”
“Yes, thanks.” Jude noticed that the faded cap Brenna squashed down over her hair carried a small winged figure pinned just over the bill. More faeries, Jude thought, and found it fascinating that such an efficient woman would wear one as a charm.
“Ah, would you like to come in, have some tea?”
“That would be lovely, thanks, but I’ve work.” Still,Brenna seemed content to linger on the little garden path. “I only wanted to stop and see if you’re finding your way about, or if there’s anything you’d be needing. I’m back and forth on the road here a time or two a day.”
“I can’t think of anything. Well, actually, I wonder if you can tell me who I contact about getting a telephone jack put into the second bedroom. I’m using it as an office, and I’ll need that for my modem.”
“Modem, is it? Your computer?” Now her eyes gleamed with interest. “My sister Mary Kate has a computer as she’s studying programming in school. You’d think she’d discovered the cure for stupidity with the thing, and she won’t let me near it.”
“Are you interested in computers?”
“I like knowing how things work, and she’s afraid I’ll take it apart—which of course I would, for how else can you figure out how a thing works, after all? She has a modem as well, and sends messages to some cousins of ours in New York and friends in Galway. It’s a marvel.”
“I suppose it is. And we tend to take it for granted until we can’t use it.”
“I can pass your need on to the right party,” Brenna continued. “They’ll have you hooked up sooner or later.” She smiled again. “Sooner or later’s how ’tis, but shouldn’t be more than a week or so. If it is, I can jury-rig something that’ll do you.”
“That’s fine. I appreciate it. Oh, and I went into the village yesterday, but the shops were closed by the time I got there. I was hoping to find a bookstore so I could pick up some books on gardening.”
“Books on it.” Brenna pursed her lips. Imagine, she thought, needing to read about planting. “Well, I don’t know where you’d find such a thing in Ardmore, but you could likely find what you’re looking for over inDungar-van or into Waterford City for certain. Still, if you want to know something about your flowers here, you’ve only to ask my mother. She’s a keen gardener, Ma is.”
Brenna glanced over her shoulder at the sound of a car. “Well, here’s Mrs. Duffy and Betsy Clooney come ’round to say welcome. I’ll move my lorry out of your street so they can pull in. Mrs. Duffy will have brought cakes,” Brenna added. “She’s famed for them.” She waved cheerfully to the two women in the car. “Just give a shout down the hill if you’ve a need for something.”
“Yes, I—” Oh, God, was all Jude could think, don’t leave me alone with strangers. But Brenna was hopping back in her truck.
She zipped out with what Jude considered a reckless and dashing disregard for the narrow slot in the hedgerows or the possibility, however remote, of oncoming traffic, then squeezed fender to fender with the car to chat a moment with the new visitors.
Jude stood mentally wringing her hands as the truck bumped away down the road and the car pulled in.
“Good day to you, Miss Murray!” The woman behind the wheel had eyes bright as a robin’s and light brown hair that had been beaten into submission. She wore it in a tight helmet of waves under a brutal layer of spray. It glinted like shellack in the sun.
She popped out of the car, ample breasts and hips plugged onto short legs and tiny feet.
Jude pasted a smile on her face and dragged herself toward the garden gate like a woman negotiating a walk down death row. As she rattled her brain for the proper greeting, the woman yanked open the rear door of the car, chattering away to Jude and to the second woman, who stepped out of the passenger
“Yes, thanks.” Jude noticed that the faded cap Brenna squashed down over her hair carried a small winged figure pinned just over the bill. More faeries, Jude thought, and found it fascinating that such an efficient woman would wear one as a charm.
“Ah, would you like to come in, have some tea?”
“That would be lovely, thanks, but I’ve work.” Still,Brenna seemed content to linger on the little garden path. “I only wanted to stop and see if you’re finding your way about, or if there’s anything you’d be needing. I’m back and forth on the road here a time or two a day.”
“I can’t think of anything. Well, actually, I wonder if you can tell me who I contact about getting a telephone jack put into the second bedroom. I’m using it as an office, and I’ll need that for my modem.”
“Modem, is it? Your computer?” Now her eyes gleamed with interest. “My sister Mary Kate has a computer as she’s studying programming in school. You’d think she’d discovered the cure for stupidity with the thing, and she won’t let me near it.”
“Are you interested in computers?”
“I like knowing how things work, and she’s afraid I’ll take it apart—which of course I would, for how else can you figure out how a thing works, after all? She has a modem as well, and sends messages to some cousins of ours in New York and friends in Galway. It’s a marvel.”
“I suppose it is. And we tend to take it for granted until we can’t use it.”
“I can pass your need on to the right party,” Brenna continued. “They’ll have you hooked up sooner or later.” She smiled again. “Sooner or later’s how ’tis, but shouldn’t be more than a week or so. If it is, I can jury-rig something that’ll do you.”
“That’s fine. I appreciate it. Oh, and I went into the village yesterday, but the shops were closed by the time I got there. I was hoping to find a bookstore so I could pick up some books on gardening.”
“Books on it.” Brenna pursed her lips. Imagine, she thought, needing to read about planting. “Well, I don’t know where you’d find such a thing in Ardmore, but you could likely find what you’re looking for over inDungar-van or into Waterford City for certain. Still, if you want to know something about your flowers here, you’ve only to ask my mother. She’s a keen gardener, Ma is.”
Brenna glanced over her shoulder at the sound of a car. “Well, here’s Mrs. Duffy and Betsy Clooney come ’round to say welcome. I’ll move my lorry out of your street so they can pull in. Mrs. Duffy will have brought cakes,” Brenna added. “She’s famed for them.” She waved cheerfully to the two women in the car. “Just give a shout down the hill if you’ve a need for something.”
“Yes, I—” Oh, God, was all Jude could think, don’t leave me alone with strangers. But Brenna was hopping back in her truck.
She zipped out with what Jude considered a reckless and dashing disregard for the narrow slot in the hedgerows or the possibility, however remote, of oncoming traffic, then squeezed fender to fender with the car to chat a moment with the new visitors.
Jude stood mentally wringing her hands as the truck bumped away down the road and the car pulled in.
“Good day to you, Miss Murray!” The woman behind the wheel had eyes bright as a robin’s and light brown hair that had been beaten into submission. She wore it in a tight helmet of waves under a brutal layer of spray. It glinted like shellack in the sun.
She popped out of the car, ample breasts and hips plugged onto short legs and tiny feet.
Jude pasted a smile on her face and dragged herself toward the garden gate like a woman negotiating a walk down death row. As she rattled her brain for the proper greeting, the woman yanked open the rear door of the car, chattering away to Jude and to the second woman, who stepped out of the passenger
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