APPY BIRTHDAY, HOLLY! OR SHOULD I say happy belated birthday?" Richard laughed nervously.

Holly's mouth dropped open in shock at the sight of her older brother standing on her doorstep. This was a rare occurrence; in fact, it may have been a first. She opened and closed her mouth like a goldfish, completely unsure of what to say. "I brought you a potted mini Phalaenopsis orchid," he said, handing her a potted plant.

"They have been shipped fresh, budding, and are ready to bloom." He sounded like an advertisement. Holly was even more stunned as she fingered the tiny pink buds. "Gosh, Richard, orchids are my favorite!"

"Well, you have a nice big garden here anyway, nice and"-he cleared his throat-"green. Bit overgrown, though..." He trailed off and began that annoying rocking thing he did with his feet.

"Would you like to come in or are you just passing through?" Please say no, please say no. Despite the thoughtful gift, Holly was in no mood for Richard's company.

"Well yes, I'll come in for a little while so." He wiped his feet for a good two minutes at the door before stepping into the house. He reminded Holly of her old math teacher at school, dressed in a brown knitted cardigan with brown trousers that stopped just at the top of his neat little brown loafers. He hadn't a hair on his head out of place and his fingernails were clean and perfectly manicured. Holly could imagine him measuring them with a little ruler every night to see that they didn't outgrow the required European standard length for fingernails, if such a thing existed.

Richard never seemed comfortable in his own skin. He looked like he was being choked to death by his tightly knotted (brown) tie, and he always walked as if he had a barge pole shoved up his backside. On the rare occasions that he smiled, the smile never managed to reach his eyes. He was the drill sergeant of his own body, screaming at and punishing himself every time he lapsed into human mode. But he did it to himself, and the sad thing was that he thought he was better off than everyone else for it. Holly led him into the living room and placed the ceramic pot on top of the TV for the time being.

"No, no, Holly," he said, wagging a finger at her as though she were a naughty child. "You shouldn't put it there, it needs to be in a cool, draft-free location away from harsh sunlight and heat vents."

"Oh, of course." Holly picked the pot back up and searched around the room in panic for a suitable place.

What had he said? A draft-free, warm location? How did he always manage to make her feel like an incompetent little girl?

"How about that little table in the center, it should be safe there."

Holly did as she was told and placed the pot on the table, half expecting him to say "good girl." Thankfully he didn't.

Richard took his favorite position at the fireplace and surveyed the room. "Your house is very clean," he commented.

"Thank you, I just, eh . . . cleaned it."

He nodded as if he already knew.

"Can I get you a tea or coffee?" she asked, expecting him to say no.

"Yes, great," he said, clapping his hands together, "tea would be splendid. Just milk, no sugar."

Holly returned from the kitchen with two mugs of tea and placed them down on the coffee table. She hoped the steam rising from the mugs wouldn't murder the poor plant.

"You just need to water it regularly and feed it during the months of spring." He was still talking about the plant. Holly nodded, knowing full well she would not do either of those things.

"I didn't know you had green fingers, Richard," she said, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

"Only when I'm painting with the children. At least that's what Meredith says," he laughed, cracking a rare joke.

"Do you do much work in your garden?" Holly was anxious to keep the conversation flowing; as the house was so quiet, every silence was amplified.

"Oh yes, I love to work in the garden." His eyes lit up. "Saturdays are my garden days," he said, smiling into his mug of tea.

Holly felt as though a complete stranger were sitting beside her. She realized she knew very little about Richard and he equally knew very little about her. But that was the way Richard had always liked to keep things, he had always distanced himself from the family even when they were younger. He never shared exciting news with them or even told them how his day went. He was just full of facts, facts and more facts.

The first time the family had even heard of Meredith was the day they both came over for dinner to announce their engagement. Unfortunately at that stage it was too late to convince him not to marry the flame-haired green-eyed dragon. Not that he would have listened anyway.

"So," she announced, far too loudly for the echoing room, "anything strange or startling?" Like why are you here?

"No, no, nothing strange, everything is ticking over as normal." He took a sip of tea then a while later added,

"Nothing startling either, for that matter. I just thought I would pop in and say hello while I was in the area."

"Ah, right. It's unusual for you to be over this side of the city." Holly laughed. "What brings you to the dark and dangerous world of the north side?"

"Oh, you know, just a little business," he mumbled to himself. "But my car's parked on the other side of the River Liffey of course!"

Holly forced a smile.

"Just joking of course," he added. "It's just outside the house . . . it will be safe, won't it?" he asked seriously.

"I think it should be OK," Holly said sarcastically. "There doesn't seem to be anyone suspicious hanging around the cul-de-sac in broad daylight today." Her humor was lost on him. "How's Emily and Timmy, sorry, I mean Timothy?" That was an honest mistake for once.

Richard's eyes lit up. "Oh, they're good, Holly, very good. Worrying, though." He looked away and surveyed her living room.

"What do you mean?" Holly asked, thinking that perhaps Richard might open up to her.

"Oh, there isn't one thing in particular, Holly. Children are a worry in general." He pushed the rim of his glasses up his nose and looked her in the eye. "But I suppose you're glad you will never have to worry about all this children nonsense," he said, laughing.

There was a silence.

Holly felt like she had been kicked in the stomach.

"So have you found a job yet?" he continued on.

Holly sat frozen on her chair in shock; she couldn't believe he had the audacity to say that to her. She was insulted and hurt and she wanted him out of her house. She really wasn't in the mood to be polite to him anymore and she certainly couldn't be bothered explaining to his narrow little mind that she hadn't even begun looking for a job yet as she was still grieving the death of her husband. "Nonsense" that he wouldn't have to experience for another fifty years.

"No," she spat out.

"So what are you doing for money? Have you signed on the dole?"

"No, Richard," she said, trying not to lose her temper, "I haven't signed on the dole, I get widow's allowance."

"Ah, that's a great, handy thing, isn't it?"

"Handy is not quite the word I would use, devastatingly depressing is more like it."

The atmosphere was tense. Suddenly he slapped his leg with his hand, signaling the end of the conversation. "I better motor on so and get back to work," he announced, standing up and exaggerating a stretch as though he had been sitting down for hours.

"OK then." Holly was relieved. "You better leave while your car is still there." Once again her humor was lost on him; he was peering out the window to check.

"You're right; it's still there, thank God. Anyway, nice to see you and thank you for the tea," he said to a spot on the wall above her head.

"You're welcome and thank you for the orchid," Holly said through gritted teeth. He marched down the garden path and stopped midway to look at the garden. He nodded his head disapprovingly and shouted to her, "You really must get someone to sort this mess out," and drove off in his brown family car.

Holly fumed as she watched him drive off and banged the door shut. That man made her blood boil so much she felt like knocking him out. He just hadn't a clue . . . about anything.