The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy

coffee than she, she began to measure and brew. Once it was on, she checked her appearance in the mirror she’d hung by the door.
    A little damp and windswept, she decided. Perfect.
    She poured a mugful, gave her cheeks a quick slap to be sure her color was up, then stepped back out into the thin rain.
    She had to pick her way over rubble and debris, skirting the thick block wall. Trevor wasn’t up on the scaffold, which pleased her. She could hardly climb up herself and deliver the coffee. Still, she paused for a moment, looking up at the men who scrambled around. With timber now, which she could only suppose was for the roof. If she concentrated, she could almost see how it was to slope up into a gentle rise as if it had grown somehow out of Gallagher’s rather than been added on.
    It was a clever design, and clever of Trevor, she thought, to have seen that in Brenna’s drawing. But he’d be a man of vision, one who could see the potential of things and had the skill to turn a supposing into reality.
    Oh, she admired that. It was just one more side of him she’d found herself loving.
    There was the side of him for his family as well, the love he so obviously felt for his parents. And the hurt, not so obvious, from his grandfather’s lack of affection. It touched her, the loyalty and the vulnerability. It made him so much more the man.
    The bastard would make a simpering fool of her if she wasn’t careful.
    She could see where windows and doors would go from the rough openings in the dull gray block. That block, she knew, would be faced with stone and the stone would weather until it was impossible to tell where the new began and the old left off.
    A merging, she thought as she began to walk again, of tradition with change. Of Gallagher and Magee. Well, the man might have vision, but she wasn’t ready for him to see just how complete she intended that merger to be.
    She stepped through one of the openings. There was activity inside the walls as well. Planking had already been set over the concrete she’d watched them pour that first day. Pipes and wires and rough boards were poking out here and there. And the din as more were drilled and set into the block was amazing.
    She saw him now, crouched down beside one of his crew, eyeballing a pipe that jutted out of the wall. He was covered with a fine gray dust that she supposed came from drilling into the block. Why that, and the tool belt slung at his hips, should have set her mouth to watering was just another part of her dilemma.
    Still, she wasn’t so dazzled she didn’t know to bide her time, and wait until he rose, grunting in answer to something his man said, and turned. Saw her.
    She watched his eyes change, and it was perfect. That instant of awareness, the connection that was like a hot spark flying dangerously. It wouldn’t have surprised her a bit to see it land and leave a burn mark in the floor at her feet. Delighted, she stepped toward it, and him.
    “I wanted a look at what’s what before I got to work.” She smiled, held out the mug. “And I thought you could use this to ward off the damp.”
    It only pleased her more that it was suspicion more than surprise that crossed his face. “Thanks.”
    “You’re very welcome, indeed. I suppose I’m in the way here.” But she turned a little circle, looking. “But it’s interesting, and it’s moving along so fast.”
    “It’s a good crew.” He knew at the first sip she’d made the coffee. It was good and strong, but she didn’t have the same touch as Shawn. Suspicion grew. Just what, he wondered, did she want?
    “Sometime when you’re not so busy, perhaps you’d show me how it’ll be.”
    “I can show you now.”
    “Can you? That would be lovely.”
    “We’ll come through the pub there.” He pointed toward the back wall of the pub that was snugged now between the new block. “We won’t cut through for a while yet. You can see the levels are different. We’ve sloped the breezeway down. That’ll give us more height without taking the roofline out of proportion. The breezeway widens.”
    “Like an open fan, I remember.”
    “That’s right, so it becomes the lobby rather than having it a separate area.”
    “What are all these pipes stabbing out here?”
    “Rest rooms, either side of the lobby area. Brenna thinks we should use the Gaelic for ‘Men’ and ‘Women,’ the way you have in the pub. I want dark wood, planked, for the doors.” He narrowed his eyes,