parlour’s presence. The first of many, no doubt.’
A frisson of shock reverberated around the room and Gabe’s head snapped up. Marla flinched with guilt. It wasn’t a lie, exactly, but in truth, the bride-to-be had probably already decided that the chapel was way too kitsch for her sensible accountant fiancé. The funeral parlour next door had been the last on a long list of issues, and Marla strongly suspected she’d used it as a convenient excuse to make a quick getaway. She brushed off any lingering guilt and threw back her shoulders to deliver her killer punch line:
‘I’m not here tonight to beg for favours. I’m here to spell out the hard facts. If we go under, then I’m sorry to say that the rest of the village will go down with us.’
She let her eyes travel slowly over the faces of her friends and acquaintances in the room, until finally, she settled on Gabe. She was glad to see that she’d managed to wipe that smile off his face.
She’d served and, even if she said so herself, she’d very nearly aced it.
Fifteen: love.
The atmosphere in the room had changed as she spoke. Brows had furrowed, and accusatory eyes had turned towards Gabe. He got to his feet with a sigh, and laid a restraining hand on Dan’s shoulder as he went to stand too.
‘May I speak now, please?’
He looked only at Marla. To refuse would be to play into his hands, so with the tiniest of shrugs she moved aside to offer him the floor.
Every eye in the place was on him as he made his way along the aisle. When he reached the front he stood silently for a couple of seconds, scrubbing a slow hand over his stubble while he searched for the right words.
‘Thank you.’ Again, his eyes lingered on Marla, who looked down and studied her burnt orange shoes as if she’d never seen them before to avoid holding his gaze.
‘Most of you know who I am, but for those who don’t, I’m Gabriel Ryan.’ He paused for a second and looked around. ‘Gabe to my friends, which I sincerely hope one day you will all be.’
His small smile didn’t penetrate the stony looks on their faces. ‘Contrary to popular belief,’ he looked pointedly at Jonny, ‘I
haven’t
come here to cause trouble. I happen to believe that this community really needs me, and that I
can
be here without threatening the chapel – or anyone else’s business, for that matter.’
He glanced towards Dan at the back of the room. ‘I’m sure many of you knew Dan’s grandmother, Lizzie Robertson.’ Gabe cast a sad smile of solidarity towards his friend.
‘I was there on the day she died, and I saw first hand how hard it was on her family to wait for the undertakers to get there from almost forty miles away. It made a terrible situation even harder than it needed to be. That won’t happen to other families now that I’m here.’
Lizzie had been a much loved and respected member of the community and her death had come as a terrible shock to many. The mention of her name instantly softened the hard edges of the atmosphere in the room. ‘I’m passionate about what I do.’
Marla swallowed hard at his choice of words and stamped down the image that popped into her head of Gabe in the throes of passion.
‘I’ve grown up in the funeral business, and I’m damn good at it. My father was an undertaker, as are my brothers back in Dublin. It’s in my blood.’
He had an unfair advantage with that musical voice. Marla could feel her own defensive walls shaking under the assault, so God only knew how everyone else in the room was holding up.
‘Being accepted by all of you is vitally important to me. Believe me, I
can
be here without being a threat to the chapel.’
He zeroed in on Marla.
‘I’m sorry if you’ve lost a booking, Marla, but I’ve already offered to sit down and iron out a compromise. I’m ready and waiting whenever you are.’
She frowned. He’d batted it right back at her, and somehow he’d managed to make her sound churlish and