a few minutes, if you wouldn’t mind,” Marcy said.
“I wouldn’t mind at all,” Shannon said as Marcy carefully lifted the screaming baby out of her carriage. “Poor Mrs. O’Connor was up half the night walking her around. She was almost falling down from exhaustion this morning. I tried feeding her, changing her, rocking her. Nothing did any good, so I thought I might as well take her out for a walk, at least give Mrs. O’Connor a chance to catch up on her sleep.”
“I’m sure she appreciates that.” Marcy held the baby tightly to her breast, kissing the top of her soft head through her pink bonnet and rocking her gently. Within seconds, the crying shuddered to a halt.
“My God, would you just look at that,” Shannon exclaimed wondrously. “Looks like you’ve got the magic touch, Marilyn. How on earth did you manage that?”
“Practice,” Marcy answered, feeling a surge of pride. She’d always had a way with infants. All she’d ever had to do whenever either of her children cried was pick them up and hold them close.
Why hadn’t the same magic worked as Devon grew older? When had Marcy lost the ability to soothe and comfort the child she loved more than life?
“How many children do you have?” Shannon asked.
“Three.” Each lie was easier than the one before, Marcy realized. “Two boys and a girl.”
“I bet the girl was the hardest.”
“Yes,” Marcy said, thinking, At last, the truth. “How did you know?”
“I have five brothers and two sisters. My mother said the boys were a piece of cake but the girls almost did her in.”
“Are you from around here?”
“Oh, no. I’m from Glengariff. Over on Bantry Bay. On the west coast. Near the Caha Mountains. Do you know it?”
“No. I’m afraid not.”
“Not surprising. It’s not exactly a tourist town. I couldn’t wait to get out,” she confessed, glancing guiltily over her shoulder as if someone might have overheard her. “Couldn’t wait to come to the big city. Soon as I turned eighteen, I was gone.”
“You don’t look much older than that now.”
“I’ll be nineteen next month,” Shannon said with a blush so deep her entire face turned red.
“So you’ve been here almost a year?”
“Well, I started out in Dublin. But I found it a little intimidating.” She blushed even harder. “It’s so big. I could never get comfortable. I almost went home. But then I came here.” She sighed with satisfaction. “It’s much better.”
“Cork’s a nice size,” Marcy agreed. “Very manageable.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Much easier to make friends here, I would think,” she said, deciding to broach the subject carefully.
Shannon nodded, the blush that had been threatening to recede now back in full force. “I’ve always had a rather hard time making friends. I’m kind of shy, believe it or not.”
“How long have you been here?” Marcy asked.
“Just over six months. I’ve been working for the O’Connors for four.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ve made at least one friend during that time.” Marcy pressed her, trying to keep her voice casual and light.
“I guess I have, yes.”
“So that’s good.”
“ ’Tis, yes.”
Well, this is going absolutely nowhere, Marcy thought, continuing to rock the now-sleeping baby in her arms. “So, do you work around here?” she asked, deciding to circle around for a few minutes before bringing the conversation back to Shannon’s friends.
“Just up the street a bit.”
“It seems like a nice area.”
“Oh, it’s a lovely neighborhood. Definitely first-class all the way. And the O’Connor house is the biggest one on the block. Up near the top of the hill.” She pointed in its general direction. “You can’t miss it. It’s very grand. Even my room is enormous. Almost as big as the house I grew up in. I even have my own telly and everything.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
She nodded enthusiastically. “I was very lucky to get this job.”
“Did a friend tell you about it?” Marcy bit down on her tongue. Could she be any more obvious? she wondered.
But Shannon didn’t seem to notice. “No. I went through an agency. The O’Connors had just fired their first nanny because she wasn’t working out, and they needed a replacement. I was told to dress conservatively and only speak when spoken to. Apparently Mrs. O’Connor didn’t take to the first girl because she was mouthy and wore her skirts too short.”
Marcy could almost see the ad the O’Connors might have placed:
WANTED. LIVE-IN NANNY.
SHOULD BE SHY AND DIFFIDENT.
ATTRACTIVE BUT NONTHREATENING.
NO SOCIAL LIFE A MUST.
Shannon definitely fit the bill.
“So, what does Mr. O’Connor do?” Marcy asked.
“He’s in construction. The development