“I unbaptized myself,” Liam continued, unable to resist the temptation to wind up his brother. “Now I’m a free agent. No hellfire. No threat of eternal damnation. No church on Sunday. No Hail Marys or Our Fathers. And no guilt. It’s very liberating.”
“If you were any more liberated, you’d be—”
“Tell him about the company, Bren.” Lauren interrupted with a gentle hand on his arm. “I’m sure Liam will want to help.”
“Are you kidding? The only person Liam helps is himself.”
Liam shot Lauren a sideways look. What did she see in his brother? Brendan was rigid, controlling, self-absorbed, and often abrasive. He had never been there for Liam when they were kids, and Liam couldn’t imagine he was there for Lauren now. Not that he was complaining. If it weren’t for Lauren, he would never have had a relationship with Jaxon.
“Lauren mentioned the distillery . . .” Liam offered, curious about what was going on.
Brendan sighed. “I hate to say it, but Grandpa’s death came at the perfect time. I desperately need the cash to keep the family business going.”
“The distillery is the family business,” Liam spat out. “And that’s a damn cold thing to say. I know you and Grandpa weren’t close but . . .”
“He didn’t mean it that way,” Lauren said quickly. “He’s just stressed. Aren’t you, Bren?”
“Liam’s right,” Brendan said. “Grandpa never liked me. He said I was too much like Da and he never forgave Da for turning his back on the distillery to start Murphy Motors. But the joke’s on him. Tradition says it goes from oldest son to oldest son. Unless he decided to change the legacy, the distillery will be mine, and I’m going to knock it down and sell the land to save Murphy Motors. How’s that for irony?”
Bile rose in Liam’s throat. He had spent his early childhood working with his grandfather in the distillery, learning everything there was to know about the business. Everything changed, however, when he was thirteen and his father discovered he was “fraternizing with the enemy.” He’d beaten Liam and forbade him from visiting the distillery or his grandfather ever again. Only thirteen and distraught at the loss of one of the most important relationships in his life, Liam had found solace with his best friend, Sanjay, and his welcoming family.
“I can’t imagine that’s what Grandpa would have wanted.” He pulled out his penknife and rubbed his thumb along the smooth wood surface. It was his touchstone, his connection to the grandfather he had only just found and lost again.
Brendan leaned against the wall, arms folded. “The equipment is fifty years out of date, everything is falling apart, and output has been dropping every year. It’s a mercy, really. I’m just putting everyone out of their misery.”
“He put his life into that distillery,” Liam protested. “As did his dad and his dad before him. And what about the staff? And Joe?” He lowered his voice when he caught a glimpse of the distillery manager in the living room. “He’s been managing things for thirty years. There must be another way.” Joe was seventy-five years old, half Scottish and half Mexican, his grandfather’s good friend, and the most experienced distiller Liam knew. As far as Liam was concerned, Joe was family, and if Brendan was just going to cut him loose . . .
Brendan shrugged. “Joe’s a good guy, but he’s getting on in years and he can’t run it alone. And as for staff, my priority is my own employees. Murphy Motors has hit a few road bumps, and without a cash injection, we might go under.”
Liam was about to invite Brendan to take the heated discussion outside, but before he could open his mouth, their great-aunt Dinah waved them into the stuffy living room, still decorated with the same dark wood furniture, threadbare woven rugs, heavy green velvet curtains, and framed paintings of Irish landscapes that his grandmother had bought fifty years ago.
“Here they are!” Short and round, with a thick Irish accent and pearl-gray hair, his great-aunt greeted them with a smile. She had come for the funeral from Ireland with her brother, Seamus, and planned to stay for a few months in the now vacant house.
“I almost thought you were your da for a moment there when I saw you.” She gave Brendan the once-over, not easy to do at only five-two and Brendan just shy of six feet. “You’re just missing the big belly.” Turning, she called over her shoulder. “Seamus! Doesn’t he look more and more like his da every day? He’s even lost more of his hair since we got here.”
“Sure enough he does,” Great-Uncle Seamus called out from the makeshift bar he’d set up in the corner. “And the wee boy’s the spitting image of Brady O’Leery.”
Liam had no idea who Brady O’Leery was, but the last week had been one conversation after another about relatives he didn’t even know he had. He’d quickly learned not to ask unless he had a few hours to spend listening to the complicated history of the Murphy family.
“Och. Don’t compare the boy to Brady,” Dinah said. “He was always in his cups.”
“He’s not the only one,” Seamus retorted.
“Away with you.” Dinah made a shooing motion with her hand. “All I ever have is a wee drop of Baileys in my fecking tea.”
“That old lady swore.” Jaxon’s eyes were wide with admiration. “She’s fecking awesome.”
“Jaxon!” Lauren raised her voice in warning. “Watch your language.”
“But Dad swears all the time. He said he was only here for the fecking money and he was fecking not leaving without it.”
“Out of the mouths of babes.” Dinah shook her head.
“At least I have a son,” Brendan huffed. “And a wife. Liam’s got no one.”
“He’s only thirty.” Seamus settled on the worn, flowered couch. “Let him sow his wild oats. A Murphy never turns down the chance to take a woman to bed.”
“That’s why there’s so many wee babes at home with your big nose,” Dinah said. “I was thinking it was something in the water.”
Liam greeted his father’s sister, Aunt Fiona, and her husband, Uncle Fitz, as well as the other relatives who had come to hear his grandfather’s bequests. He had never been close with his father’s side of the family. Although many of his relatives lived in the area, not one of them had tried to save his mother from his father’s abuse and he hadn’t been able to forgive them.
When the doorbell rang, he took the opportunity to escape the bickering and welcome Ed McBain, a junior lawyer from the law firm that was handling his grandfather’s estate. After everyone had found a seat, Ed shuffled through his briefcase to find the will.