‘Sorry? What did you say?’
‘The ring – does it fit Rachel, or did she have to get it made smaller or bigger or anything?’
‘I have no idea, darling. I was so taken aback to hear that she was wearing it at all, that it really wasn’t something I thought to ask.’
Daisy nodded, as if thinking something over. ‘Well, you should really check.’
‘Yes, yes, I will,’ Ethan replied absently, although in truth he couldn’t care less about whether or not the ring fitted Rachel or if she liked it or any of that type of nonsense. What mattered was that the ring was
his
– and by rights it should now be Vanessa’s – and for the sake of his relationship (and indeed his sanity) he just needed to get it back.
Up in the Wicklow mountains, Gary was in his element. He and Sean zoomed along the rough terrain on their bikes, bouncing the tyres along the granite trails and landing heavily on the surrounding bog. Hard on the old ribs, but Gary didn’t mind. He’d had enough of sitting around on his backside for the last two weeks, and was itching to get back in the saddle.
It was bad enough having to delay the gang’s usual New Year’s ride until he was a hundred per cent recovered, so a little bit of soft scrambling was just the tonic. Anyway, there was also a side of him that was anxious to get away and out in the open by himself for a while; since this whole engagement thing, Rachel had been coming on hot and heavy with the wedding talk and it was making him uncomfortable.
Gary couldn’t understand the big deal about how many different layers of cake they should have, or what colour the bridesmaid’s dress should be. While all this engagement stuff had sounded fine at the outset, already he was getting the distinct impression that he was way in over his head.
Just then Sean pulled up alongside him. ‘Bloody fantastic, but I’m feeling thirsty,’ his mate said. ‘Fancy a pint?’
By rights Gary didn’t like drinking when riding the bike, but one would be OK as it was under the limit. And although he didn’t like to admit any weakness to Sean, he could do with a bit of a breather. He followed his mate across the bog trail and through the fields out onto the main road, which led to a small village not far from picturesque Glendalough. It was a bit of a touristy spot but the pints were good, and there was always a roaring fire going in the lounge.
‘So how’s yer missus these days?’ Sean asked Gary as they both hunkered down at the bar. ‘Wrecking your head with all the wedding talk, still?’
Gary grimaced. ‘Ah, you know yourself.’ He felt a little bit guilty for moaning to Sean about that, really; he figured he should start showing a bit more loyalty to Rachel, seeing as they were supposed to be together for good now. ‘I suppose she’s just excited.’
‘Ah, they all get like that,’ Sean replied knowledgeably, and Gary wasn’t sure how his friend would know when he’d never gone out with any woman longer than a couple of weeks. ‘She give you any grief about coming out on the bike today?’
‘Not too much.’ Actually, Rachel had been OK about that, considering. Gary had expected her to nag him about his injuries, but instead she’d just urged him to try to take things easy.
‘For your own sake,’ she’d said. ‘You don’t want to miss out on the big ride when it does happen, do you?’ Which was a good point, in fairness.
‘So have you thought any more about suing that tool who knocked you down in New York?’ Sean asked, referring to the taxi driver.
Gary had done a lot more than that. First thing after the New Year’s break he’d phoned his solicitor to ask him about it and, like Sean, Frank Donnelly was confident he had a very good case. ‘Yep, it’s all in hand. My solicitor’s setting the wheels in motion.’
‘Proper order. I’d say you could be looking forward to a nice little payout from that.’
‘Hopefully there’s nothing little about it,’ Gary joked. ‘Would be nice to get some new wheels out of it, at least.’
‘Assuming the missus doesn’t get her hands on it first, of course! You know how demented they can get with all this wedding business.’ Sean laughed. ‘Good party last week, though. Rachel sure knows how to put on a proper spread.’
Gary nodded and supped his Guinness. ‘Yeah, all things considered, she’s not a bad catch, is she?’
Sean looked at him curiously. ‘Sounds like you’re still weighing it up. Bit late to be doing that now, isn’t it?’
‘Nah. Was just saying, that’s all.’
Although the decision had been more or less forced on him, Gary found he was increasingly OK with the idea of settling down with Rachel. For one thing, he was relieved that her meeting his mam was over and done with. It had worked out well getting his mother to come to the party like that. It meant that any conversations she and Rachel had would have been short and sweet, which was the way Gary liked it.
What was bothering him now, though, was the call she’d got recently from that English guy, Greene, the one who’d helped him in New York. The notion that the guy was enquiring after his health didn’t sit right with him for some reason, and the fact that he’d supposedly phoned a couple of times since seemed a bit too full-on for Gary’s liking.
He looked at Sean, wondering if he should just throw the idea out there and get his take on it.
‘Remember I told you about that do-gooder in New York?’
Sean looked at him. ‘The fella that called the ambulance for you?’
‘Yeah.’
‘What about him?’
‘Well, it’s a bit weird but he followed me to the hospital afterwards and has been sort of sniffing around ever since.’
‘What do you mean “sniffing around”?’
‘I don’t know . . . that’s what I’m wondering. He met Rachel at the hospital while I was out of it, and I don’t know if maybe he took a fancy to her then or something.’
‘Why would you think that?’
‘Just a notion. He rang her a couple of times since we came back and the other day he said something about calling into the bistro next time he’s in Dublin.’
Sean raised an eyebrow. ‘I get you. You’re wondering why he’s been ringing your missus, not you.’
‘Well, he doesn’t have my number to start with, and I’ve never met him. Rachel’s been going on at me to ring him and say thanks and all that bullshit, but I just couldn’t be bothered.’ Gary took another sip. ‘The way I see it, any eejit could call a bloody ambulance.’
‘Too right. But I get what you’re saying; it does seem a bit suspect.’ Sean looked thoughtful. ‘And there’s no denying that Rachel is one hell of a looker, so who could blame him?’
Gary nodded, a strange combination of pride and possessiveness running through him. So he wasn’t imagining things. Clearly Sean thought there was something to the idea too.
‘Maybe you should give this fella a buzz all the same, suss out exactly what he’s up to,’ Sean went on.
Gary looked into the fire. ‘Maybe I will.’
Chapter 19
Ethan’s flight arrived in Dublin exactly on schedule, and now he stood in the taxi queue at the airport, waiting for a free car. For what seemed like the hundredth time, he looked at the paper in his hand and read the directions to the bistro. Getting into the cab, he explained to the driver where he was going, and the man grunted in agreement and pulled away from the kerb.
Despite himself, he was full of anxiety. Why he was feeling so nervous he didn’t know; after all, he was in the right here, and the ring was his property. He just hoped that he’d be able to get all this dealt with, with the minimum of unpleasantness.
Thinking of Gary Knowles, he felt another jolt of anger. What kind of man would do such a thing? Take a piece of jewellery, a very expensive piece of jewellery, and blithely pass it off as his own? Even worse, what kind of man would give a stolen ring to the woman he supposedly loved?
A thief would, that’s who, Ethan thought. What a nasty piece of work this Gary Knowles must be. He thought again about Rachel and their meeting in New York. She seemed like an incredibly sincere and kind woman; how could she be remotely attracted to such an obviously flawed character?
Then he sighed. Perhaps he shouldn’t make assumptions about her. For all he knew she could be in on the whole thing, and all those offers of cookies for Daisy were merely a smokescreen to throw him off the scent.
No, he decided then, Rachel
was
nice; she was an absolutely genuine person, he knew it. Why else would she have been so open about her engagement, and so willing for him to visit them at the restaurant?
He was sure that by now she would have mentioned to her fiancé that he would be in the city, and he wondered what Knowles would have made of that.
Maybe the man couldn’t care less; goodness knows he’d been brazen about everything else so far. Notwithstanding the ring, he hadn’t had the decency to even bother picking up the phone to thank Ethan for helping him out at the accident, so why should Ethan expect him to feel ashamed about nicking his ring?
Because Gary Knowles
must
have realised that this was what had happened.
Rachel seemed adamant that he hadn’t suffered a brain injury, or anything that might cause him to believe that he had somehow, unbeknown to himself, spent a five-figure sum on a ring.
Ethan couldn’t help but wonder about that too. If Gary had intended to propose to Rachel then surely he (and ergo Vanessa) would have ended up with a diamond ring, albeit a different one, instead of the silver charm bracelet. So what on earth was the guy’s game?
He looked out of the window as the cab approached central Dublin.
It had been almost a year since he’d visited the city, and he’d forgotten how much he liked it. Maybe it would make a good location for his ‘novel’ after all. Ethan felt a weight in the bottom of his stomach as he thought again about his lies to Vanessa, and he sorely regretted having to bring Daisy in on the ruse too.
But of course it would all be worth it in the end; and with regard to the novel, Ethan could always pretend afterwards that he’d had second thoughts, and that Dublin didn’t suit the storyline after all.
Or that ‘the New York agent’ had had second thoughts about representing him as an author. That kind of thing happened all the time, didn’t it?
At the end of the day, Ethan was here to get the ring back, nothing else. This wasn’t research, nor a pleasure trip – far from it. If anything it was to conclude a business transaction. He needed to obtain the ring, and then return to London, where he would propose to Vanessa and get on with the rest of his life.
Minutes later the cab pulled up to the kerb near Dublin’s Ha’penny Bridge and Ethan thanked and quickly paid the driver.
He took his case out of the car, and looked around for the purple building Rachel had mentioned, finding it easily a little way down by the river. Arriving at the premises, he focused on the establishment in front of him.
To the right of the entrance, behind a large plate-glass window was a wicker-basket display of every type of freshly baked bread imaginable, alongside a large selection of pastries as well as the cookies Rachel had mentioned. Just by the door, the lunch menu announced a tantalising selection of Mediterranean dishes, and the wood-panelled interior, colourful leather-banquette seating and soft lighting looked cosy and inviting, unlike the harsh monochrome look favoured by the majority of modern restaurants.
Strange, but Stromboli was almost exactly how Ethan had pictured it. Warm and welcoming.
A bit like Rachel, the thought came, unbidden.
Stop it, he told himself, mentally smacking his forehead. He needed to stop thinking of this woman as a friend, and instead start treating her and her boyfriend as the foes they were, at least when it came to the matter at hand.
Taking a deep breath, Ethan steeled himself to go inside, willing her to be there. Despite what he’d said about phoning beforehand, he didn’t want to give Rachel or her fiancé too much advance warning of his visit, just in case they decided to make themselves scarce.
The bell above the front door of the restaurant jingled as Ethan walked inside, and he immediately saw that even though it was well past lunchtime, the dining room was still abuzz with customers. He was impressed. Rachel obviously did a booming business here. The feel of the place, in addition to the smell of fresh baking from the artisan bakery section, was enticing; it was rather old-fashioned and charming. To Ethan the atmosphere was almost like a mixture of cosy nights by the fireplace and breakfast in bed all wrapped into one, and he felt like he could stand all day there in the entrance, just breathing in the delicious aromas.
‘Hello there, can I help you?’ a pretty red-haired woman asked, and immediately he broke from his daydream and focused on her. She was dressed in jeans with a chef’s jacket over her top, and really was incredibly striking. It was the eyes, he realised. She had the biggest, widest green eyes he had ever seen.
‘Hello, yes. I’m here to see Rachel. Is she in?’ He sounded nervous, he realised, and once again he mentally smacked himself for being so hesitant.
‘She’s not due back until this evening, actually. Is there anything I can help you with?’ she asked warmly. ‘I’m co-owner of the bistro.’
He saw that the name tag on her shirt read ‘Terri’.