5. Olivia
5
OLIVIA
T he next day I woke up in my peaceful yellow room, determined to start fresh. My first day on the job had not been…ideal. My boss clearly knew nothing about modern childcare. It was frustrating because there had been moments when he seemed to care deeply about Catie, and she him. But then he’d all but vanished for that business call. And when he had come back, he’d barely listened to anything Catie or I said. He’d just nodded absently and agreed with anything Catie said.
“But that was yesterday,” I reminded myself. Today would be different.
I found some neatly folded bath towels in the wardrobe and headed to the bathroom. Declan had his own bathroom attached to his room, but Catie and I would be sharing the one in the hall.
I propped my phone on the window ledge and hit my favorite playlist, keeping the volume low so as not to disturb anyone. Then I got naked and tried to turn the shower on.
It was harder than it looked. There were six nobs and two showerheads—and no matter which way I turned any of the nobs, it always seemed to come out cold.
I stood in the bathroom shivering, goose bumps rising on my skin.
You can do this , I told myself. You can take a cold shower .
I lasted approximately four seconds before jumping back out of the shower.
There was a simple solution for this. I could ask Declan.
But I could just picture his smug face. The one he’d used when giving me career advice. No, I couldn’t bring myself to ask Declan for help.
I studied the shower. Maybe the problem wasn’t that it was a fancy rich person shower. Maybe the problem was that it was a fancy European shower.
If that was the case, then maybe there was someone I could ask. I didn’t know if he’d be awake at 6:40 a.m., but it was worth a shot.
I snapped a photo of the shower controls and sent it to @DBCoder, zooming in as close as I could so that the shower control took up the whole screen and he could actually read the various buttons.
If you can tell me how to turn on the hot water, you’d be my hero . You’re the only nice Irish person I know , I typed, and hit send.
He surprised me by responding back immediately.
Unfortunately, he just sent a string of laughing emojis.
Don’t mock my pain , I typed. I am wet, naked, and cold in a foreign country .
Two of those are good things , he typed back.
My stomach fluttered. Every now and then one of us would say something that strayed perilously close to flirting, but then the other one of us would chicken out. There was something undeniably fun about flirting with a smart, funny guy. But then I’d imagine what it might be like to meet each other in real life, and my courage would fail me.
This time @DBCoder was the one to shift the conversation back into safer territory.
Sorry , he wrote. You have no idea how badly I needed that laugh. That’s a pretty common shower set up. Sending over instructions now. Let me know if they work.
I followed his instructions when they came through, including waiting five minutes for the water to heat up. When I saw the shower start to give off visible steam, I almost cried in gratitude.
I sent him a thumbs-up, then set my phone aside and hopped into the shower.
When I finished and toweled off, I saw he’d sent me one more message before signing off. Welcome to Ireland, a chara.
I stepped out into the hallway, wrapped in a towel, and all but ran into Declan. I squeaked and stumbled back, clutching at the front of my towel to keep it from falling or flapping open.
Declan grabbed my arms to keep me from falling back and tumbling down the stairs. His big hands rested on my bare skin a few seconds longer than he needed to before he released me and stepped back.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, his voice gruff. “I just wanted to show you how to use the shower. Someone pointed out it might be confusing for Americans.”
I did not want to think about what conversation of his could possibly have included me, his showerhead, and my lack of intelligence.
I raised my chin. “I managed just fine without your help.”
“Are you sure?” he insisted. “The place was renovated not that long ago, but some bathrooms might still have the old?—”
“Not a problem,” I interrupted. “Like I said, I managed just fine.”
“Grand,” he said. “Grand.” He stepped to the side to let me pass, at the same time I stepped to the side to move around him. We did that a few more times until he solved the issue by turning sideways and stepping around me with his back toward the wall. I slid past him, trying to ignore the scent of freshly showered man.
Why did he smell so good ?
When he was no longer right in front of me, I remembered there was something he could help me with. I turned back, just in time to catch him checking out my ass. I ignored the flutter of awareness that sent through me.
“What’s a chara mean?”
“You say it with a ‘k’ sound, not a ‘ch,’” Declan corrected. “It means friend. Unless you’re being an arse, then it’s sarcastic.”
So @DBCoder wasn’t flirting when he called me a chara . He was just being friendly.
Well, I’d never turn up my nose at friendship. Especially friendship that came with hot water help.
Declan cleared his throat. “Was there anything else you needed, or…?” He was having a hard time keeping his eyes from straying below my collarbone, and he didn’t seem happy about it.
I almost laughed, but that would have felt too much like poking the wild, grouchy beast. “No,” I said, and fled for the safety of my room.
I did my best to coax a sleepy Catie out of her shell over a breakfast of eggs and toast. Declan hid behind his laptop, his fingers flying so fast I found myself wondering if he was just hitting the keys for effect. His brain and his hands couldn’t possibly work that fast.
I didn’t think he was listening to me and Catie at all until I suggested she and I go on a walk to Ballybeith’s town center today.
“You should go to Galway instead,” Declan said without looking up from his laptop. “There’s more to see, and it’s actually got a toy store for Catie. There’s nothing to see in Ballybeith.”
I tried to be patient. “That’s a good idea for another day, but I don’t have a car. I don’t even know if my license is valid here.”
“It is,” Declan said. “Just remember what side of the road to drive on. And you can take one of my cars. Or you can use my driver, if you prefer.”
Just like that, my plans for a nice quiet walk where Catie and I could get to know each other and our temporary home went up in smoke. I briefly closed my eyes and counted to ten until I felt calmer. I was still going to do my best to be quiet, polite, agreeable…but surely I could do that while still expressing some opinions, right?
I rose. “Declan? Can I have a word in private?” I nodded toward the next room.
Declan finally looked up from his computer. He stood and followed me out of the kitchen.
I crossed my arms. “I appreciate your input, but I think it’s best if our first day is just about settling in and getting to know her new home.”
“I really don’t think you understand how small Ballybeith is,” Declan said. “It’s an hour walk round trip that will take you past a pub, a church, a restaurant, a grocery store, and nothing else .”
I opened my mouth to argue, but he pulled out his wallet and produced a credit card, which he casually pressed into my hands. “Buy her whatever she wants, all right?”
“I don’t think she needs?—”
“Actually, some of the smaller places only take cash. You might need this.” He handed me three €50 notes.
“That’s very generous of you, but if you could just listen to me?—”
“Olivia, I have other things on my mind today. Do you have a problem following simple instructions?” Declan demanded.
In that moment, I almost hated him.
But I couldn’t lose this job. I couldn’t .
So I made myself smile. “Galway it is. I’ll take your car.” The last thing I needed was some snooty staffer who was loyal to Declan following me around and reporting back to Declan about every move I made.
Maybe I’d find a nice park or museum in Galway that would work just as well for a quiet heart-to-heart. I didn’t trust my wrong-side-of-the-road driving ability enough to try to have a serious conversation while driving.
I returned to the breakfast table and feigned enthusiasm for Galway. Catie seemed at least mildly interested, and I tried to take encouragement from that as we finished our breakfast and got ready to head out.
The drive to Galway ended up taking half an hour. Declan’s sleek black car was the nicest thing I’d ever driven, but driving on the wrong side of the road made me feel like I was in a bad dream. When I realized the public park I’d spotted on my map was on the far side of the street, I chickened out and parked the car, deciding to stroll down Shop Street instead, until Catie and I found a cute café.
I had to admit, it was charming. Brightly colored old buildings lined the stone streets, populated by a mix of pubs, boutiques, and chain stores. Not the first thing I’d recommend to a jetlagged six-year-old missing her mom, but at least there was plenty to see, like a violinist busking in the street.
Catie stopped to listen. “Can we put money in his jar?” She pointed to a mostly empty jar that held one or two lonely bills.
“Sure,” I said, before I realized the only cash I had on hand was what Declan had given me. And the smallest bill he’d given me was a €50 note.
Catie looked up at me, waiting eagerly.
Well, he did say to give her whatever she wanted , I told myself as I passed her the €50. And Declan could certainly afford it. Catie crept closer to the violinist, then dropped the money in the jar and dashed back to me, grabbing my hand.
I smiled, and we kept walking. I loved this part, getting to know a new kid.
We passed a toy store. Catie craned her neck back to look at the shop window. “Can we go in there?”
“Maybe another time,” I said. I knew from experience that once a child got an exciting new toy, it tended to take up their whole focus for the rest of the day. “Oh, look, a bookstore!”
Catie perked up.
As we stepped inside, I fell in love a little. The whole place was decorated to look like a fairy tale, with a friendly stuffed dragon hanging from the ceiling and a magical forest painted on the walls. Catie dropped my hand and raced to the nearest shelf, yanking a book off it.
“Careful!” I cautioned.
“She’s fine,” the employee behind the register reassured me. She was a pretty, plus-sized young woman with bleached blond hair and a richly colored dragon tattoo that popped against her pale skin. She wore a cute graphic T-shirt for a band I didn’t recognize, and a big, warm smile. “We love enthusiastic customers.”
“Well, we’re definitely enthusiastic,” I said.
Another child approached Catie and asked about the book Catie was holding. Catie hesitated, holding the book protectively to her chest. I leaned forward, prepared to step in if it turned into a tug of war. But then Catie changed her mind and shyly offered the book.
The other child accepted it, and gave Catie a crumbling cookie from her pocket in return. Catie took a bite before I could stop her.
“Well. That looked hygienic,” the cashier said dryly, and I laughed. She continued, “Can I help you find anything in particular?”
“We’re just browsing,” I said.
“You sound American,” the woman said. Her name tag read Molly. “Are you on vacation?”
“Sort of. She’s visiting her uncle,” I nodded to Catie, who was now following the child with the pocket cookies to another bookshelf. “I’m her nanny.”
Catie bounded back to me. “How many books can I have?”
“One for today,” I said. “But we can come back another time and buy more.”
I could see the wheels turning in Catie’s head as she decided whether to accept that deal or start pouting. Luckily, she seemed to come down on the side of acceptance. She went back to the shelves and started seriously considering her options, while her new friend offered unsolicited opinions.
“Remember when making friends was that easy?” Molly said. She sounded a little wistful.
“We didn’t know how great we had it,” I agreed, and Molly laughed.
We chatted a bit more until I excused myself to help Catie make her selection. She had me read six different books to her before she finally picked one. We bought the book, waved goodbye to Molly, and headed out the door.
“It seemed like you met someone nice,” I said. “But as a general rule of thumb, maybe avoid food that’s got lint stuck to it.”
Catie nodded but didn’t say anything.
I tried again. “What did you talk about?”
“Lots of things.” Catie shrugged her little shoulders. “Then she asked if I would be her friend, and I said no because I don’t live here, and after that she didn’t want to talk to me anymore.”
I felt my heart pinch a little. “You can be friends with people even if you don’t live in the same place. Like you and your uncle Declan.”
“Family has to call you when you don’t live in the same place,” Catie said slowly and clearly, like she was worried I didn’t understand. “But friends don’t. They can forget you.”
Understanding dawned. “Have you moved around a lot, honey?”
She nodded.
“You know,” I said speculatively, “you can be friends for just a little while, while you’re both in the same place. Those kinds of friendships are good too.”
“Do you have friends like that?” Catie asked, curious.
I opened my mouth to say yes, but realized it felt a little dishonest. I’d had so many different jobs in the past few years, at some point I’d stopped making as much of an effort to connect. I’d be friendly with the chefs, gardeners, and cleaning people who made up the rest of the staff of the family who hired me. But I couldn’t remember the last time I’d made friends with someone I didn’t work with.
Catie was still waiting for my answer.
I wanted to set a good example. But more than that, I realized I was tired of feeling so damn lonely.
“You know what?” I said to Catie. “I’m going to go make a friend.”
I turned around and marched us back to the bookstore.
Molly looked up from the graphic novel she was reading. “Welcome to…oh, you’re back. How can I help you?”
I stuck out my hand. “I’m Olivia. I realized I didn’t introduce myself.”
Molly looked at me like she thought I might have been hit on the head.
“We’re working on making friends,” I said. “And I’d like to be yours.”
“Oooooh,” Molly said, catching on. “Nice to meet you. Let’s be friends.”
We shook hands.
Catie studied us with wide eyes. Probably trying to decide if we were for real.
Molly leaned over the counter and offered her hand to Catie. “I’m Molly. Will you be my friend too?”
Catie shook Molly’s hand cautiously. “I’m Catie. I will think about it.”
That surprised a laugh out of Molly. “Good for you, kid. Don’t settle.” She glanced at me like she was making a decision. Then she scribbled something on the back of one of the store’s business cards and passed it to me. She lowered her voice. “If you’re serious about the whole friend thing…”
“I am,” I assured her.
She beamed. “Text me. We can grab a pint.”
“Absolutely.”
As I walked out the bookstore, it occurred to me I no longer had only one friend in Ireland.
I had two.