The Wedding Invite (Lakeview) (Lakeview Contemporary Romance Book 6) (8 page)

“
N
ews
? What kind of news?”

At the other end of the line, Laura detected a note of apprehension in her mother’s tone.

“Nothing bad, Mam. Look, I shouldn’t have said anything. I’ll wait until we get there and then I’ll tell you everything, OK?”

Maureen Fanning’s miffed tone was palpable. “Suit yourself. But don’t be dilly-dallying on your way down – the dinner will be on the table at seven and not a minute later.”

Laura rang off having assured her mother that she and Neil would make it their business to be at her parent’s house by dinnertime. She went back into the living- room, where Neil was enjoying what had lately become a rare opportunity to flop in front of the television, Eamonn the cat in his lap.

“Well, did you tell her?” he asked, lazily stroking the cat’s fur.

Laura shook her head. “I told her I had some news but she seemed a bit preoccupied. I think I might leave it for a while, Neil – at least until after the wedding.”

“Why do you keep putting off telling them, love? They’ll be thrilled when they find out. And you said yourself that you’ll be meeting so many people at the wedding it would be a same to waste the opportunity for a little self-promotion.”

“I know, but –”

“But what? Come here a second.” Neil indicated the space beside him and when Laura sat down he put his arms around her. At this, Eamonn gave him the cat version of a dirty look. “Look, I know you’re nervous about all of this. It’s one thing to talk about it amongst ourselves, but quite another to tell the world about it, right?”

She nodded.

“But this is what being in business is all about, love. You have to let people know you exist, otherwise how will you sell anything?”

Laura grimaced. “I know, I’m being stupid. But I’ve put so much work into setting it up, I just hope that people won’t think I’m making a big mistake.”

“Who cares what people think? What is it to them?
You’re
the one taking the chance, and you’re the one doing all the work. Not to mention taking all the profits,” he added with a grin. “Look, I know how you feel. Hold off telling the world until after the wedding if you’d prefer. But you need at least to tell your family about it. And look, with the likes of your mother on the case, you’ll get as much coverage as you would with a billboard in Times Square.”

Laura sat up. “I never thought of that.”

Neil was right. She had been putting off telling her parents about the new business because she thought that they would worry about Neil and her having only one source of income, what with the wedding and the new mortgage. But she had forgotten how much her mother loved to boast about her family to all and sundry in the village.

When Laura’s younger married sister, Cathy, had three years ago produced twin boys – the first Fanning grandchildren – Maureen had been ecstatic, and there was no one in Glengarrah that didn’t know all about it, from the weight of the babies to the number of stitches her misfortunate sister had needed afterwards.

Maureen would be in her element with the news that her older daughter was entering the business world. She could just imagine her mother after Mass on a Sunday.

“Laura? She’s in Dublin now. Yes, getting married to a lovely respectable fellow. Oh, you didn’t know she had her own business? Yes, she’s doing very well, can hardly keep up with the demand. But sure, we always knew she’d make something of herself.” All said in the irritating smug tone that Laura usually hated, but could easily tolerate if Maureen was talking about
her
.

It would be nice to give her mother something to boast about – for once. She had never been particularly bright at school and her exam results (with the exception of Art, at which she excelled) were usually best kept hidden.

In her mother’s eyes, the Art & Design diploma she had taken had been a complete waste of time.

“You’ll never find employment drawing pictures and making matchstick men,” she had told Laura shortly after graduation. “You should go back to the Tech for a year and do a secretarial course.”

Although in fairness, the one-year computer course she had taken after her diploma had certainly proved itself useful in Laura’s finding employment. She had never any problems in that regard. The words that kept cropping up in her references were ‘dedicated, diligent and dependable’, which in her opinion translated to ‘dull, dull and dull’. She found no excitement, no challenge in drawing up reports and churning out figures on some pre-programmed software package. She had thought computers would stimulate her imagination, and that accounts might be a little less humdrum than banking or sales, both of which she had tried in equal measures.

Her hobby had been her only escape from her mind-numbing working week, and it wasn’t until she had met Neil, who made her feel as though she could do
anything
, that Laura began to consider putting her God-given talents to good use.

These last few weeks had been absolute bliss. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so alive, so blissfully happy. For the first time ever, she felt as though she knew exactly where she was going with the rest of her life.

It would be brilliant telling the others, and seeing the pride in her parent’s faces. Their daughter – a successful businesswoman, a brave entrepreneur.

Her family would be thrilled.

“
W
hat do
you mean you gave up your job? Why would you do a stupid thing like that?” Maureen Fanning trilled.

Laura and Neil had arrived at the Fanning household in Glengarrah earlier that evening, and the dishes had just been cleared away when Laura made her announcement.

She felt her heart pound. “It’s not stupid, Mam. I haven’t been happy with what I’ve been doing for a long time now, you know that.”

“Sure none of us are happy with what we’re doing, but don’t we have to put up with it?” Maureen began to sweep the floor. “Do you think that
I
was happy stuck here day after day cleaning up after you lot for most of my life? I had no choice, Laura.”

“But that’s it, Mam. I
have
a choice. And I’ve decided …” she looked at Neil and he gave her a supportive wink, “I’ve decided to go into business on my own – selling my jewellery.”

Maureen gave a curt laugh and Laura felt her insides tighten.

“Your
jewellery
? You mean the bits and pieces of plastic that you’re always messing around with? Why would anyone be interested in the likes of that?”

“Because she’s talented, Maureen.” By his tone, Laura knew that Neil was annoyed. “Your daughter is one of the most talented and hardworking people I know.”

“But it’s only a hobby, Laura.” Maureen continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “Your ‘jewellery’ is alright for the likes of us, but you don’t seriously expect decent people to pay out good money for those things, do you?”

“And why not?” Laura felt the blood pulse through her veins and two spots of pink appeared on her cheeks as she raised her voice. “Those
things
were all right for you and your cronies down at the flower club when any of their daughters were getting married, or going to a debs, weren’t they?”

Maureen, taken aback by her daughter’s uncharacteristic outburst, pursed her lips and continued sweeping, saying nothing more.

Laura felt like she always did when Maureen tried this tactic – like an absolute heel. “Mam, I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to shout at you, but this is really important and it’s a big step. I had hoped you’d be happy for me.”

“And what are you going to do – set up a stall in Moore Street, or something?”

Laura bit her tongue. “No, Mam, it’ll be a real business.”

“I see.” Maureen paused and put a hand on her hip. “Look, I think that you’re fooling yourself if you think you can make some kind of living out of this. We’re just ordinary working people, Laura. We’re not the types to be setting up businesses.” At this, she glanced slyly across at Neil.

Neil had to say something.

“Maureen, with all due respect, if you feel that way, then you really don’t know your daughter. She’s worked hands-on in accounts and retail for years, and knows possibly as much about business than any college graduate. Not to mention you’re completely ignoring the fact that she’s damn good at what she does.”

Maureen’s head snapped up his tone and at the mention of what she considered a swear word.

Laura sighed. “Mam, I’m not going into this with my eyes closed. I’ve done the market research and there seems to be a definite niche there.”

“But giving up your job – now of all times, with the wedding and everything,” Joe Fanning said quietly.

Laura couldn’t read her father’s expression, so she wasn’t sure whether or not he agreed with Maureen.

“You should see some of the designs she’s come up with,” Neil offered, hoping to turn the tide a little. “People are raving about them already.”

“Oh, for goodness sake,” Maureen said tightly. “People rave about my sponge cakes, but you don’t see me going off pretending that I’m the next Delia Smith, do you?”

Laura tried to bite back the tears she knew were threatening.

“I think you’re running away with yourself, Laura. And as your mother, it’s my responsibility to make sure that you don’t do anything stupid, and fall flat on your face. Setting up your own business, indeed.”

The others were silent, and for a long moment the air was thick with tension.

Eventually Maureen spoke again. “And what about Miss
Jackson – I suppose she’s all for it?” she asked with, Laura thought, a hint of sarcasm.

“Helen is very supportive, yes.” She wasn’t about to give her mother ammunition by admitting that in the beginning Helen had been far from enthusiastic at the prospect. Although lately, her friend
had
been making a bit of an effort, and had even offered to put Laura in touch with some of her contacts in the business world.

“Well, isn’t well for her to be supportive of some people?” Maureen said. “And her poor father living all on his own above on the farm. He hasn’t seen sight nor sound of her in over a month, he says.” Maureen had never made any secret of her dislike of Laura’s childhood friend.

“Helen’s very busy at work, Mam, she doesn’t always have the time.”

“Hah! I’m sure she’s plenty of time for gallivanting with fellas, though. She certainly did plenty of that when she was here.”

Helen’s good looks had always ensured she was popular with men, but unlike some of their friends, Helen didn’t sleep around. Maureen was being grossly unfair.

“And I suppose there’s still no sign of the child’s father?” Helen’s single motherhood was another cause of Maureen’s sanctimonious ire.

“No, Mam, he abandoned Helen, remember?” For some reason Laura always felt obliged to stand up for Helen. Not that her friend would need anyone to fight her corner, Helen being well used to (and more than able for) the judgmental residents of Glengarrah.

Maureen sniffed. “I’m not surprised he wouldn’t marry her. That one was always too big for her own boots.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Laura saw Neil smile and shake his head. Maureen’s narrow-minded attitude was always a great source of entertainment to him but it annoyed Laura no end that her mother couldn’t even be the tiniest bit gracious about anyone that went their own way. Helen was doing her best. What right had Maureen to criticise her way of life?

“Helen works very hard to bring up her daughter, Mam.”

Maureen turned around, frowning. “Sure don’t we all, Laura? But it doesn’t necessarily guarantee that the child will turn out all right, does it?”

Laura tried to convince herself that her mother didn’t mean anything by that last comment, that she was still talking about Helen and not about her. But why did it feel like that? Why did she feel as if she had somehow disappointed her mother, that no matter what she did she would always disappoint her? She had been so sure that her family would be proud of her for taking a risk and going out on her own. But surely, Laura thought now, surely knowing her mother as well as she did, she should have anticipated a negative reaction. Negatives were all that Maureen seemed to understand. Couldn’t she see how much this meant to her? Couldn’t she understand how much she wanted this, how much she had always wanted it? It wasn’t success as such, Laura thought – that wasn’t it – it was just finally
doing
something with your life, doing something worthwhile, in essence following a dream. Didn’t that matter to Maureen at all?

No, Laura thought, those things didn’t matter. All that mattered to Maureen was whether or not she succeeded.

“I’m not surprised that young one has problems, having to put up with a mother the likes of that one,” Maureen continued, apparently determined to continue bad-mouthing Helen.

“Mam, Kerry’s stutter has nothing to do with Helen,” Laura said wearily. “It’s just one of those things.”

“One of those things? I don’t think so, Laura. Didn’t she cut the young one’s hair long before the child had said a single word?”

“What?”

“What’s that got to do with it, Maureen?” Neil asked, intrigued as to what gems of wisdom his mother-in-law would dispense next.

“Sure every fool from here to Timbucktoo will tell you that that’s why children stutter in the first place,” Maureen announced. “You’re not supposed to cut a child’s hair before they say their first words.”

“I see,” Neil said, biting back a smile. Maureen had an old wives’ tale for everything.

“Well, Helen’s trying speech therapy now, so hopefully Kerry should improve,” Laura said.

Maureen was dismissive. “Speech therapy, indeed. In the old days, they used to belt the child across the mouth with a dish-cloth, but sure you if you did that in this day and age, you’d be up in court for child abuse,” she said, her expression perfectly serious.

“Mam!” Laura was outraged. “It’s not Kerry’s fault that she has a problem and you certainly can’t
beat
it out of her.”

Maureen was miffed. “I’m only telling you what worked in my day, Laura. It was either that, or walk around with a few marbles in the bottom of your mouth.”

Neil sniggered, and Laura gave him a reproachful look. She knew he found it hilarious that the ‘In My Day’ speeches were still alive and well in Glengarrah. Coming from a rather tolerant and well-educated background, he never failed to find amusement in Maureen’s colloquialisms.

“Mam, those are just old wives’ tales. I really don’t think –”

“Ah, your mother’s not too far wrong, Laura,” Joe piped up from the corner. “Sure, old wives’ tales are superstitions, and different versions of the same superstitions are found in every culture.”

Laura smiled. Her father’s long-standing subscription to
Reader’s Digest
and the like ensured that he could always be relied upon for little pieces of (factual) trivia. Her father would read anything – newspapers, magazines, even the back of a milk carton if he could find nothing else.

“I suppose you got that from a book, Joe,” Maureen sniffed, as if reading books was on a par with being drunken and disorderly on Glengarrah Main St, neither of which (as far as Laura knew anyway) she had ever done in her life. “Well,
I
don’t need books to tell me things that are just common sense.”

Joe shrugged, not seeming all that bothered by his wife’s attitude, but Laura hated the way her mother dismissed him like that. It had always been the same, as though Maureen felt threatened by anyone claiming to know that little bit more about a topic than she did.

Then Maureen turned to look at her. “So, about this – this
business.
What will it be called? Some fancy name or another, I suppose.”

Laura reddened. This was the bit she had been dreading. “Actually … um … I’ve decided to call it Laura … um … Connolly Designs.” For a long moment, she couldn’t meet her mother’s eyes.

“Really? And who is Laura Connolly when she’s at home?” she challenged.

“Well, I’ll be changing my name after the wedding and everything, so I couldn’t really change the . . .” Her voice trailed off. Laura knew there was no point in even trying to explain.

“I see.”

Her expression telling Laura all she needed to know, Maureen turned to the sink and busied herself noisily with the washing-up.

Discussion over.