Hard Irish Read Online Free

cobwebs.”
    “Heavens.  I don’t even remember the last time that was done; likely before my mother became ill seven years ago.  Cleaning is not my forte, but hand me a hammer and I’ll work all day.”  Rocky entered her office and saw that Maggie hadn’t overestimated the situation.  Everything had been moved.  She navigated around the vacuum cleaner and the stacked file cabinet drawers to get to her desk then moved the furniture polish and cleaning rags to unearth her files for the Drake Hotel job.
    “I suppose that works,” Maggie said, following.  “If you give free reign to the cobwebs then you can always use a hammer on the spiders.”
    “Talk about overkill.”  Rocky wrinkled her nose.  “After that visual, I think I’ll hire a cleaning lady.”
    Maggie laughed.  “Or bribe your friends.  Let me know if you need help, luv.  Meanwhile I’ll take on those faxes.  You’re really moving fast on this job.  Any special reason?”     
    Rocky handed her the list.  “I promised I’d have the renovations done in record time.  We can’t afford any delays or we’ll be in trouble.  Odd thing about reputations, it takes forever to build a good one, but then one mishap and it goes down in a heartbeat.”
    Maggie took the file and then made the climb for the door.  “Money’s the same way,” she said before she left.  “Forever to get it and then you bloody lose it and nothing goes right.”
    “True,” Rocky said and as she sent out the messages that would put Monday’s agenda in motion, she realized most of life was like that—forever to build then lost in a second.  Dreams, love, relationships...health.  For a man in his late fifties, her father had been in good shape.  He ate right, exercised, and only indulged in a good scotch on special occasions.
    Thanks to Maggie, Rocky made it to the nursing home in good time and settled in to her usual place at his side and told him about Pebbles’s latest exploits, knowing he’d enjoy hearing about them.  He believed that the only “real” dogs in the world were the ones that weighed more than fifty pounds.  After Pebbles, she turned the conversation to his pride and joy.  McKenna Construction. 
    “We’re going to stay in the black, Da.  We won another bid.  This one is for the Drake Hotel job.  So you don’t have to worry.  It’s all going to be all right.” Swallowing the lump of emotion knotting her throat, she forced a smile as she searched his watery blue gaze.  At a hefty six-five, she never thought Rory McKenna could ever look small and vulnerable, but he did.
    The stroke had taken him from man to invalid in minutes, leaving a hole in her universe as big as the Milky Way.  She tucked the blanket higher on his burly chest and clasped his hand in hers.  Persistent Vegetative State...Locked in Syndrome...the doctors were still determining his condition.  From all that she’d read about brain stem strokes, the prognosis of a patient could be difficult to predict.  And while recovery miracles did happen, they weren’t likely and they weren’t often.
    She wished she could do more.  More than just pray.  More than just keep McKenna Construction going.  She wished she could go back and...what?  Take back their last argument so she might have been with him as usual the night he had his stroke?
    They’d fought over whether or not to have a more in-depth documentary done of her Building-A-Future summer camp and instead of going to his place for dinner, she’d come home to stew.  Maybe Dessie was right.  Maybe her father had been afraid of her leaving.  He’d been against her doing the news show with Cameron last year, too.
    She leaned in close, searching.  His expression seemed more intense again, but he wasn’t looking at her.  He stared straight ahead.  “You know you’ll never lose me, Da.  I’m not going anywhere.  I love what I am doing.  I love running the company.  Was that what you were