by K. C. Crowne
I chuckled, knowing there’d be no getting out of this without giving Annie a little something to chew on.
“Just that I had plans for this place, right?”
“Ah, the women’s shelter you and your brothers had been talking about,” Michael nodded.
“That’s it,” I said. “I had my lawyer draw up an offer for the property and sent it off to Colorado, where the sisters live. Now, I was hoping to do this nice and easy – I’d send an offer, they’d counter, I’d offer something back. That sort of thing. But now, knowing that one’s coming to visit…that puts a cramp in it, you know?”
“Why?” Michael asked. “This way you can talk to her face-to-face, get it all sorted out over a pint, maybe.”
“It complicates things,” I said. “Not to mention if she’s coming back, that means she might be thinking about staying, yeah? She might show up, decide she wants to connect to her roots – that sort of business. That’d mean the deal would be off before it’d even begun.”
“Now, son,” Michael said. “You can still negotiate with her. Don’t tell me you’re scared of some yank lass showing up here and strong-arming you out of making a deal?”
I sighed. “It’s not that. You know, I’m not even sure what it is. I suppose part of me was hoping that I’d be able to just get this done and move forward. I never expected it to get muddled.”
Annie grinned again. “You’re looking at this all the wrong way, Ronan. For all you know she could be showing up to take one last look at the place before saying goodbye. I’d bet that’s more likely than her packing up her life in the states and moving here.” A glimmer twinkled in her eye. “And you never know – she could be a ‘real hottie’, as the Americans say.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at her choice of words.
“That’s the last thing on my mind,” I said.
“I tell you what you should do,” Michael offered. “Get that brother Aiden of yours to talk to her. I swear, the lad could talk bees out of their honey.”
It was an idea worth considering.
“Thank you both for the coffee, but I should get going. Got a lot to think about.”
“Of course, of course,” Annie said, she and Michael rising along with me. “Thanks for sitting a spell with us.”
They led me out and we said our goodbyes. The rain had stopped by the time I was out, and my stomach growled. I decided to head over to McCarthy’s, and a few minutes later I was seated at the bar of the cozy, inviting little pub, another cup of coffee in front of me along with an Irish breakfast.
It was hard to focus on the food though. There was the practice, the house, and then the damn reality show on top of that.
I had a good feeling that, when it was all said and done, my life was going to end up looking like something I might not recognize.
Chapter 5
JOANN
I eagerly took out my phone the moment we touched down for my connecting flight in Newark. I’d sent an email to the Irish lawyer who’d been in touch with me about the possible sale of Grandma’s house and land. Phone in hand, I pulled down with my thumb to refresh the screen, hoping that a response had arrived in the couple of hours it’d taken for me to fly from Denver.
Sure enough, one had arrived, the subject “re: Questions about the sale.”
My email had been nice and short, a quick response I’d fired off to their response when I’d told them I’d be coming into Dublin to see about the property in person. It had been easy to see from the tone that the legal team, and likely the buyer too, had most definitely not expected me to actually fly in.
To whom it may concern,
I’m sure you have many questions for me about the potential sale. But before any of that, I have a few questions of my own that, if you could answer, I would most appreciate:
I’d like to know the identity of the potential buyer. Since I’m coming in, I’ll be meeting them in person, but it’d be nice to have an idea of who they are beforehand.
What are the buyer’s intentions with the property? As you likely know, the land and home are of deep sentimental value to me. While I’m leaning toward keeping the property, knowing what the potential buyer plans to do with it could sway my decision.
My flight arrives at 6:35 AM GMT. As you might imagine, I’m eager to meet the buyer. Please let me know when you and they would be available to discuss the matter at hand.
Sincerely,
JM
The reply was just above my email.
Ms. McCallister,
Thank you for your prompt reply to our previous message. We’re happy to answer any questions you might have within the bounds of what our client has given us liberty to discuss.
Unfortunately, the buyer would like to keep their identity hidden. All matters regarding the property are to be done through our firm, as per their request.
As with the buyer’s identity, their plans with the property, should you decide to sell it, is privileged information.
As you can see, it doesn’t appear that we’ve been able to assist much with these particular inquiries. However, we would be more than happy to discuss the finer points of the potential purchase in person. While my week is quite full, I’ll be discussing my schedule with my personal assistant and should likely be able to accommodate you the day after tomorrow. I’ll be in touch as soon as I have a concrete time.
Sincerely,
Sean Curry, Esq.
I sighed as I tucked my phone back into my purse. Sure, I’d gotten a response, but it’d been next to useless. The identity of the buyer and their intentions with the land were still a mystery. There wasn’t a chance in hell I’d be selling it to some mystery person so they can tear down my grandma’s home and build some ugly condo complex.
Getting some answers had been a big reason why I’d finally bit the bullet and gone to Ireland. If that didn’t work out, I’d still be able to relax, to spend some time away from Denver and all the insanity with the cartel. I’d been busting my butt for so long that, since buying the ticket, I’d actually managed to talk myself into taking something like an actual vacation.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done anything like that. It had to have been after I’d graduated law school, when I’d gotten an Airbnb up closer to the mountains and decompressed for a few days. God, one vacation in the last decade and it hadn’t even been out of the state.
Before too long, the plane pulled to a stop and the lights came on with a chime, the passengers getting up and pulling down their carry-ons from the overhead bins. Being tiny had some advantages, and one of them was that I could easily grab my bag and sidle through the aisle while the larger types were busy turning their bodies to get through.
Moments later, I was off the plane and in the terminal. The place was a madhouse. Hundreds, if not thousands of people were there, wheeling and carrying their bags to their destination, the occasional announcement over the PA system cutting through the din.
I took my phone out of my purse, checking the time. It was a little after seven-thirty, my connecting flight from Newark to Dublin not taking off until nine-thirty, so I had time. Good thing because my stomach was grumbling like mad. After slinging my purse over my shoulder, I hurried away from the gate and began the process of finding a place to eat, settling on a small bar and grill that had been designed in such a way as to reduce the noise pollution from the rest of the airport.
Once I was seated my stomach growled even larger. I ordered a lager to start off, my mouth watering as soon as I began to look over the menu.
The bartender approached with a smile, raising his eyebrows for my order.
“I’ll…hm, I’ll take the double bacon burger. Fries on the side.” He nodded and started off. “Wait – can you make those chili fries?” He smiled before departing.
I sipped my beer in anticipation of the greasy feast that was on the way. As I waited, I found myself thinking of Ireland, of all the amazing foods Grandma Mary used to make for us whi
le we were there. I remembered hearty and warm shepherd’s pie, the perfect comfort food on those gray, dreary Irish days. I remembered Irish breakfasts, eggs and sausage and black pudding. Then there was the Irish apple cake, the so-freaking-good dessert grandma would make as a treat.
It was strange. Jolene and I had only gone to Ireland a few times, and all the trips had happened when I was a kid. If someone would’ve asked me about it a week ago, I would’ve mentioned Grandma and the house and not much else. Now that I was on my way there the memories were coming back clear as though they’d happened yesterday.
My mind filled with images from a party Grandma had taken us to, a celebration for something called Grianstad, which referred to summer solstice and one of the peak moments of light and dark interplay – at least, that’s what she’d told me. I didn’t understand much about that as a kid, but what I did remember was the amazing celebration, a huge feast with tons of people and dancing and music and everything else that was pure magic for a girl my age. I remembered how I felt during the celebration, like I’d never had so much fun in my life.
“We’ve almost got them.” A woman’s voice nearby snapped me out of my nostalgia. “So freaking close.”
“But I thought you signed them?”
“We signed them to do the preliminary work for the show – the scouting, the filming, all that stuff. But part of the contract is that they’ll have final say on the material. They don’t like what we put together, it won’t go on the air.”
“That’s a hell of a situation.”
The two were talking loud enough to mess with the ambiance and take me out of my head. I glanced in the direction of the conversation to see that the two speakers were a man and a woman, both youngish, both dressed in sharp clothes, the woman a pretty blonde and the man in an outfit of navy slacks and a white button-up shirt, dress shoes on his feet.
Maybe it was the topic of conversation, maybe it was the way they yakked and carried on like they were doing the rest of us a huge favor by letting us listen in, but something about them told me they were industry types from LA.
“It is what it is. Sidney’s crazy about these three, thinks they’re going to be the next big reality show hit. I mean, can you blame him? You see their numbers on Tik Tok? They’re not just in the millions for views, they’re in the tens of millions.”
“Can’t say I don’t get it,” he said. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as he scrolled through his phone, opening a video. They were too far away for me to make out anything on the screen other than there being people on it. “These guys are hot as hell. Good lord. And there’s three of them? And two of them are twins? And they’re doctors? I don’t blame Sidney for offering these guys some special exceptions. These are the kinds of stars that come around once in a lifetime.”
“That’s what he’s thinking, too. And, um, there’s something else you should know about these guys. Specifically, one of them.”
“Oh yeah?”
“See that one there? The younger one with the huge smile?”
“Sure do.”
“He came onto me, so that made it easier. His name’s Aiden – he’s kind of the party animal among the three. The other guys are just as cute, but they’re a little more on the stoic side. Especially the oldest one. He’s been the guy we’ve had the hardest time getting on board with the show. And something tells me he’s going to be a pain in the ass down the line.”
“Um, you’re skipping the good part…”
She chuckled. “Oh yeah. So, after the meeting we went to this super cute pub downtown…”
The food arrived at this point, and I made the effort to tune out the conversation – the last thing I wanted to clutter my mind with was boring crap about LA reality show behind-the-scenes stuff. I happily chomped my burger, the greasy deliciousness hitting me just right.
As I sat there enjoying my beer and burger, it got me thinking about how, back when I was a kid, I’d always been fascinated by Irish pubs. Grandma would take us in them occasionally to have some food while she had a beer and caught up on the gossip, or the “goss” as she called it, around Sandy Cove. They’d always seemed like the coolest places, synonyms adulthood.
With a contented nod, I decided that’s what I would do when I got in. I’d find the quaintest pub near the house and have a full Irish, just like how grandma used to make them for us.
I worked my way through the burger and beer, taking out my laptop and giving a read through some of the other emails that had accumulated since I’d left Denver. I’d sent a message to James earlier in the day, asking him to send me whatever work I could take care of remotely. I smiled as I read his reply, which essentially said, “you’re going on vacation, so vacation. You’ve more than earned it.”
Boarding time arrived before I knew it, and I didn’t waste any time getting to my gate and boarding as soon as they let us on the plane. I’d sprung for business class for the flight from Newark to Dublin, so I didn’t have far to go before I slid into my insanely spacious seat. Business class had seemed like kind of a waste of money. I mean, coach got you there just the same, after all. But I figured why not? I’d been busting my ass for the last few months, and it was my first flight in a long, long time.
I settled into my ultra-cozy seat, a big grin on my face at the idea of spending my flight in total comfort.
My peace and quiet didn’t last long.
“Colorado Law, huh?” The voice came out in a lilting, Irish brogue. I turned in its direction to see that the words had been spoken by man in the seat next to me. “Had a mate who went to school around there. Well, in Wyoming, if I’m recalling properly.”
“Huh?” I glanced down, remembering that I’d put on my Colorado Law hoodie for the trip.
I wasn’t much in the mood to chat, but I had to admit the man, with his fair, freckled skin and thick, red hair, his jawline perfect with a little dimple in his chin, was damn handsome. His winning smile didn’t hurt matters either.
“Wyoming’s a whole other state,” I said. “But in the ballpark.”
“The states are the states,” he said. “Hard to keep them all straight when you could fit ten Irelands into one of ‘em.” He stuck out his hand toward me. “Dr. Sam Killian.”
I took his hand and shook it. His skin was rough and warm.
“Joann McCallister.”
He arched his thick, orange eyebrows. “McCallister, eh? Now, that’s a fine Irish name if I’ve ever heard one. Tell me, what brings you to our fair isle?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but before I said a word, I thought better of it.
I was going to Ireland to relax, to decompress, and to rid myself of as many troubles as I could. When I thought of trouble, a charming, handsome Irishman seemed to personify the word.
“Business,” I said. “Business and more business. And speaking of which…” I gestured toward my laptop. “I need to do a million things before I get in…”
He nodded, thankfully understanding. “Of course, of course. Well, you like a chat, you know where to find me. Pleasure to meet you, Joann.” He flashed me one more smile along with a wink before turning to his bag. He fished out a book and opened it and that was that.
I allowed myself a small smile, pleased with how I’d avoided an unnecessary temptation. Moments later, the captain came on the loudspeaker, speaking about the flight ahead. I settled in as he spoke.
Chapter 6
JOANN
I stepped out of Dublin Airport and took a deep, full breath. I was in the middle of the biggest urban area on the island, and not too far from airplanes blasting into the sky, but there was something cleaner, fresher about the air.
I couldn’t put my finger on what it was, but I was quite happy about it. The gorgeous sunset coming up over the east, brilliant oranges and pinks backlighting the wispy clouds, didn’t hurt matters much. Dampening my mood, however, was the fact that I hadn’t gotten much sleep on the plane. Partially because it was hard to sleep sitting u
p, and partially because the guy next to me hadn’t taken my hints about not wanting to talk.
So much for Irish charm.
As I stood waiting for my Uber, I considered how fortunate it was that the lawyer hadn’t been available to meet that day – there was no way I had the energy or brainpower for something like that.
There was a bit of a chill to the air, so I pulled the belt of my trench coat a bit tighter against the light wind. A quick check of my phone revealed that the Uber was still a good fifteen minutes away. As I stood there, I found myself opening Tik Tok -an app I never used- and scrolling around. Quick clips of videos of girls dancing filled the screen, and I felt overwhelmed just looking at it.
Must’ve been that conversation I’d overheard at the bar, I thought. Put that stupid app into my head.
It was way, way too much stimulation for that early in the morning. I clicked off my phone and prepared to stick it back into my bag, but I didn’t get a chance before I felt a hand come down on my shoulder.
“Jesus!” I shouted, turning around on my sneakers. “What the hell!”
It was Dr. Sam, the guy from the plane. He arched his eyebrows with slight amusement, as if he were genuinely surprised that he’d gotten such a reaction out of me.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” he said with a small grin. “Are all American lasses as jumpy as you?”
I’d about hit the limit for my patience.
“Only the ones who get touched by men in public in the middle of a freaking parking lot. I swear, are all Irishmen this unaware of personal boundaries?”
He laughed, as if I were just being cute. “No need for the theatrics. Just wanted to come by and offer you a ride to your hotel. I brought my jeep so I can take you wherever you need to go.” Just like he’d done so many times on the plane, his eyes went down to my chest.
“And not only that,” he went on, totally oblivious to the fact that I wasn’t interested in the slightest, “my place isn’t too far from here. You want, you could come on by, have a little breakfast, and I could spend the day showing you around. I’m quite the tour guide, for your information.” He flicked his eyebrows up, a pleased-with-himself smile on his face. It didn’t take a genius to know what he was getting at.
