Forget-Me-Not

by Kris Bryant

  “This is an incredibly sweet letter from your aunt. I guess I never knew that your family had such a hard time with it,” she says.

  “Yeah, at least my mom supported me. I’m not very close to the rest of my family. Now I understand things a lot better and why Aunt Nola left everything to me. I never knew this about her,” I say. I’m a mixture of sad and angry at my aunt for not sharing with me, but on some level, I understand her hesitancy to share such private information. When you’re young and coming out, people are more inclined to support you because you’re just learning about sex and your attractions. It’s got to be easier than when you are in your forties or fifties and coming to that realization.

  “I knew about Kate only because Emma’s been working here for about eight years. I never got the chance to meet her though,” she says, still holding the letter. I watch as she rereads the letter, her fingers playing with her bottom lip, drawing my attention to its fullness. I’m struck with an urge to pull her close to me, touch her, kiss her. That strong desire confuses me and I head back into the kitchen. I can’t be attracted to her. Nothing good can come from it. She follows me.

  “I know I haven’t been agreeable or even nice. My mother would be so disappointed in my behavior toward you. It’s just an unfortunate event that Nola passed away, for everybody involved.” I can hear the sadness in her voice so I know she’s being truthful. I see her chest rise and fall with a deep breath she inhales and holds before exhaling. When she looks up at me, I see resolution in her eyes. “I really am sorry. Let me take you to dinner. I ruined your lunch so the least I can do is treat you to a nice meal.” I have no reason to say no, plus I’m starving. If Aunt Nola thinks we should work together, I need to at least give her a chance.

  “I would like that. And I’m hungry.” She laughs at my honesty, her laughter light and infectious. It’s a lovely sound. I excuse myself for a few minutes to freshen up. I finger brush my hair and braid it back. I’ll be wearing a hat anyway so it really doesn’t matter. It’s amazing to me how much everybody walks around here. I splash some water on my face to wake up and pinch my cheeks for color.

  “What are you hungry for?” she asks when I return to the living room. I bite my tongue from spewing out something lewd and shrug.

  “Anything really. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

  “Is there anything you won’t eat? I know a lot of Americans are vegetarians.” I smile at her.

  “I live in Texas. It’s practically the beef capital of the United States. I’ll eat just about anything.”

  “We eat a lot of fish, mutton, and chicken. My mother makes the best mutton stew in the world,” she says, grabbing her coat. I’m disappointed when her body disappears underneath it. I was enjoying her curves.

  “I’ve had fish and chips twice now so maybe something a little bit different,” I say.

  “Well, then I have the perfect place for us,” she says. I follow her out and lock up, knowing I won’t be back here until tomorrow. I need to get back to the bed and breakfast before Ms. Walsh forgets I’m a boarder. I slip into the car and notice it’s different than the one Luke left for her.

  “Is this a rental?” I ask. She holds out her hands in a surrendering gesture.

  “Let’s just forget about that, at least for tonight,” she says. I nod and look outside at the darkening sky.

  “Is it going to rain?”

  “It always rains. At least for a little bit.” She eases out onto the street and within about twenty minutes we are parked outside a solitary restaurant on top of a foothill, Dublin’s blinking lights off in the distance.

  “Wow, this is really a nice place, Kerry. Am I even dressed appropriately?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious at my jeans and sweater.

  “You look fine. This is one of my favorite restaurants and I don’t get the opportunity to come here very often,” she says. We are seated next to a window that overlooks the Irish countryside. It’s too bad that it’s not lighter out because I’m sure the view is breathtaking. She orders us a bottle of wine and sits back in her chair. This Kerry I could get used to. “So, tell me about yourself, Grace.”

  “I work. That’s about it,” I say. My mind wanders back to an e-mail I read this morning about one of our accounts. My team is more than capable of making decisions without me, but nobody wants to pull the trigger. Even thousands of miles away, I’m still holding their hands. She scoffs.

  “I know there is more to you than just work. What are your hobbies? What is your favorite thing about Texas? Are you dating anyone?” That last question perks me up.

  “I really work six or seven days a week. This is my first vacation in about three years. I love the Texas weather because it’s almost always warm and no, I’m not dating anyone.” I take a drink of wine, surprised at how relaxed I am. This wine will put me under the table. I need to limit myself.

  “I’ve never been to America. I’ve been all across Europe and a few countries in Africa,” she says.

  “You’ve been to more countries than I have. I went to Mexico with my best friend Morgan once and France when I graduated college. As a matter of fact, I was afraid my passport expired and I wouldn’t be able to get out here quickly, but I still have a year left on it.” The server arrives to take our orders and Kerry asks if she can order for me. She’s definitely a take charge kind of woman and I find that I like it. She orders meatloaf with cabbage cream sauce and Colcannon, a potato and cabbage side dish.

  “I have a feeling I’m going to put on at least ten pounds while I am here,” I say.

  “Well, I’m certain that won’t hurt you,” she says. I snort thinking I’ve got her beat by at least that. I smile a thank you. She continues the conversation talking about food, traveling, and all the different things she’s tasted. I find her quite charming when she doesn’t act like she hates me. By the time the meal is served, we’ve finished one bottle of wine and I’ve learned all about her twin brother and the pranks they played on each other growing up. They are close now, but that wasn’t always the case.

  “I thought your brother was super sweet at the pub,” I say.

  She laughs. “Yeah, that’s what he wants you to think. He’s very charming around pretty girls, especially blondes.” She’s complimented me three times since we sat down. We start the second bottle of wine and I have to remind myself not to flirt with her, regardless of her compliments.

  “I have an older brother,” I say. “And Morgan is the closest thing I have to a sister.”

  “She’s your best friend, right?”

  “Yes. She was actually supposed to accompany me here, but she fractured her ankle two days before we were scheduled to fly out so I came out alone. I’m so glad I did because she would have been too bored to go through all of Aunt Nola’s stuff with me. She would have stayed in Dublin and chased after all the available women,” I say.

  “She’s a lesbian, too? Did you ever date?” Kerry asks.

  “Oh, no. She’s too much for me to handle. Stubborn and very high-maintenance. I just don’t have the energy for that. We agreed a long time ago to just stay friends,” I say.

  “So, you don’t like a challenge?” she asks.

  “Depends on the challenge.” Suddenly, I am flirting with her, but after almost two bottles of wine, I just don’t care. The waitress shows up with our food before I have a chance to continue our playful banter. The food smells divine and I heartily dig in. I moan with appreciation at the combined flavors. “This is fantastic! How do you manage to stay so thin?” I take an even bigger bite.

  “I’m single so I don’t eat like this every day. If I did, I’m sure I’d be the size of a house,” she says.

  “Why are you still single?” I ask.

  “Apparently I am too much of a challenge,” she says. I bust out laughing. Beautiful with a hearty sense of humor.

  “So tell me what you didn’t get to tell me when I rudely stormed out of the bar,” I say. A look of sadness flashes across her face.r />
  “When I said I wasn’t being fair to you, I meant that. I’m mad at myself, too, Grace. I’m a hypocrite.” She pauses, takes a drink of water, and continues explaining. “I’m upset because when you sell the shop, I get a fantastic commission check that will allow me to have a down payment for the farm I’ve dreamed about. So you win, I win, and the people I love lose.” She leans back in her chair, defeated. “So you see, I’m quite a mess over this. I’m trying to find a way to deal with it, but instead I have only been mean to you. So from here on out, I promise to only be a friend.”

  “I will gladly hold you to that.”

  Chapter Six

  I surprise myself by getting most of Aunt Nola’s stuff either packed up or put in an organized pile for the thrift store. I don’t even know if Ireland has something like thrift stores. I’ll be sure to ask Leigh when she arrives today. I told Leigh, Emma, and Conor that The Irish Garden will continue to operate until it sells. I also told them that if they needed time to look for a job, we could shut down early on days they might have an interview lined up. I just don’t know how things are done over here. They seem appreciative that I’m not closing it down right away. Last night, Kerry told me that I will probably have all three employees there until the very end. Emma will have the baby within a few weeks and then go on parental leave for twenty-six weeks. At least the government will help out with some expenses while she is getting accustomed to motherhood. I feel like I should offer some sort of severance package to them and might do that if the sale goes off without a hitch. I’m sure that’s what Aunt Nola would have wanted me to do with some of the money.

  I decide to call Morgan and check in with her. “Where have you been?” she answers, knowing it’s me.

  “I’m doing great. How are you? How’s the ankle?” I ask.

  “Sorry. Hi. How are you? How’s the sale going?” she asks.

  “I’m glad I added on a week because now I’m not so rushed. I found some important photos and letters to my family that I have already boxed up and will send to my condo. The rest of her stuff I will offer it as either part of the sale or ask if the employees want anything. Her stuff is very cool. Retro and very clean,” I say. “The clothes I will donate somewhere. If they don’t have a thrift store around here, I’m sure one of the many churches have a charity program.”

  “So when will you be back in the office?” Morgan asks.

  “I’m not sure really.” I cringe waiting for Morgan’s reaction.

  “Don’t worry about us. For the most part, the team is getting along without you,” she says. I notice that she is not copied on a lot of the e-mails. I’m unsettled about that. My team knows better, especially since I am not there.

  “I’ve heard from a few people,” I say.

  “I’m sure they were told to reach out to you only if it’s an emergency. They know you haven’t had a vacation in a long time,” she says. “So tell me more. Last time we spoke, nobody at the flower shop liked you, and the hot real estate agent wanted to kill you. Please tell me things are better.”

  “Thankfully, I worked it out with Kerry. We actually had a nice dinner together last night,” I say. I feel the smile cross my face as I think about our evening.

  “Ooh. Well, that sounds promising,” she says.

  “So, you are not going to believe this. My aunt was a lesbian. Had a lover and everything. That’s the whole reason why she left everything to me. At the retirement party I told her all about me and what I was going through with my family. Hang on, let me read you her letter.” I dig out the letter and read it to Morgan, answering her questions as she interrupts me.

  “That’s so wonderful, Grace. You helped your aunt follow her heart. Love doesn’t get any better than that,” she says. “So now it’s up to you to find love. Or at least get hooked up with a lass.” Her Irish brogue is horrible and sounds more English, but I let it slide.

  “I’ll take this weekend off and I’m sure I’ll find a gay bar in Dublin,” I say. We talk a few minutes more about work before Morgan has to get off of the phone.

  “Try to unwind while you are there. The photos you’ve e-mailed me are gorgeous. You need to take a few days and explore.”

  “Well, I will need a guide because I’m not driving here. Even if I didn’t cause Kerry to crash, I still wouldn’t want to get behind the wheel.”

  “You are such a puss,” she says. This I know. We say our good-byes and I make my way downstairs. I hear voices so I know the store is open.

  “Good morning,” I say. I’m surprised to see Kerry here. I glance down and realize I’m going to have to do laundry since I’m wearing the same jeans from last night. Now that I’ve decided to extend my stay, I might as well stay in my aunt’s apartment. At least I can wash my clothes here.

  “Grace, I have a few more papers for you to sign if you have about ten minutes.” Today she is a bit more casual, wearing slacks and a sweater. Suddenly, I’m very self-conscious.

  “Sure. We can either squeeze into the office here or go upstairs,” I say.

  “The office should be fine.” She follows me into the back of the shop.

  “I can’t believe we didn’t get everything signed at your office,” I say. I offer her a cup of coffee which she accepts. I definitely like this agreeable and relaxed side of her.

  “Since you want to sell the place with a furnished apartment, I had to add the extra value into the listing price. It won’t take you long.” She has placed tiny arrow stickers on the pages I’m supposed to sign and I find myself skittish with her this close to me. Out of my peripheral vision, I can see her staring at me, her eyes focusing on my face. I’m glad that I took time to apply a little bit of makeup when I woke up today. “I had fun last night, Grace. I’m glad we buried the hatchet.” I turn to smile at her and am unnerved that she has moved more into my personal space. She’s almost close enough kiss. I can’t help that my eyes dart down to her full lips and again, I am struck with the urge to kiss her. I lean back a bit, not enough to let her know her closeness is affecting me, but enough to let my heart stop beating so fast. When she reaches down and points to something on the page, an errant curl slides down her arm and brushes softly against my arm. I suppress a shudder. “Don’t forget to initial right here.” Her voice is low, her breath warm against my neck. What is happening to me? Just twenty-four hours ago, I wanted nothing to do with her. Now I feel like I’m crushing on her. In my defense, though, she is far more attractive when she isn’t scowling at me.

  “There. That should do it.” I hand the papers back to her and take a safe step back. She has to know she’s affecting me. She smiles and files the papers back into her bag. “I will send our photographer out to take photos of the place if you are ready.”

  “Oh, I can take photos. I have my cameras with me,” I say, getting excited at the possibility of helping in this process. She looks at me warily. I hold up my hand. “Let me take them and if you don’t like them, you can bring your photographer in. This is what I do, Kerry. I get paid to make things look great and sell.”

  “Okay, but I will be critical and we need to get it done soon so that we can have it listed by the time you leave,” she says.

  “I do need your help with the upstairs. I want to donate my aunt’s clothes to either a thrift store or a church. Is that something you can help me with? Or do thrift stores come out and pick things up?”

  “Well, I think you mean a charity store and we would have to take your aunt’s clothes there. That shouldn’t take but a trip or two. Do you already have it all divided up?” she asks.

  “Almost. I ran out of the bags Leigh and Emma found for me down here,” I say.

  “I can either bring some by later or I can take you out if you would like,” she says.

  “It’s no bother. If you tell me where the closest place is, I can just walk to it,” I say.

  “Grace, we’re friends now. This is what friends do for one another. Of course, if you want, you can drive your aunt’s
car,” she says. She smiles and I know she’s teasing. I’ve made it clear that I would never drive here.

  “No. I’m good. Walking is good for me,” I say. She doesn’t have to know that I drive everywhere back home. Even to the quaint neighborhood ice cream shop that is only four short blocks from my condo.

  “You know, this is a pretty good town to learn how to drive in. It’s not too busy, besides most people are already at work. You do know how to drive a standard, right?” I waiver for a bit, then wave my hands side to side.

  “No, no. Really. I’ll walk,” I say.

  “Well, I’m not doing anything. Let me help you and then we can at least get this part done. It will be a lot easier to take photos without tons of bags in your way,” she says. Kerry does have a good point. I finally concede and follow her out to her car.

  “I’m pretty sure you have plenty of work to do today that doesn’t involve me,” I say. “And I’m not trying to be rude. I just know you work hard and hanging out with me isn’t making you money. Trust me, I know all about time management.”

  “It’s Friday. There isn’t anything going on. At least I haven’t received any calls yet so no worries,” she says.

  “How is the market here in Ireland?” I’ve noticed quite a few for sale signs in yards and in storefronts. She shrugs.

  “It’s not great. I got into the family business right when the housing market crashed, about eight years ago. It’s been an uphill battle ever since. Dublin has bounced back quite well, but most of Ireland is still struggling,” she says.

  “Have you always wanted to get involved in real estate?”

  “Oh, no. I went to college for a few years to become an agriculturist. Then when the family business started failing, I knew I needed to help out. I’ve been a part of the Mulligan group ever since.” Her smile is a sad smile.