Chapter Twenty-Five
Sam
I’ll give her one thing: The girl knows how to make an entrance.
“How did you even find out about this?” Ciara asks as Maddie speeds toward the coast.
“Mary told me. She was watering the plants under Bobby Brennan’s front window and heard him on the phone to his son. His wife works at the newsagent’s by the beach.”
“Why was she watering—”
“She thinks he’s in an open marriage.”
Ciara looks intrigued. “Is he?”
“Unconfirmed. Anyway, that’s not the point.
” Maddie slaps the steering wheel, and I close my eyes as we make a particularly vicious turn at a speed that, again, should not be legal on roads this narrow.
“The point is his son’s wife works at the newsagent’s and she said this morning that the boards came down off the window and that someone was in there making noise.
So she went to investigate and said she met an estate agent who was in there cleaning up because he was showing it to a prospective buyer this morning. ”
“And you think that’s Shane?”
“ ‘Shane’?” Maddie blinks. “Since when have you been on a first-name basis?”
“He’s not that bad,” Ciara insists. “He looked after you when you were drunk at Delaney’s.”
“What are you talking about? Natalie said she picked me up from you.”
“And I was only there because Shane called me. He must have been minding you for at least forty minutes by the time I got there. You were wasted.”
“That’s…” Maddie scoffs. “I’d remember that,” she says. “I’d remember if he…” She trails off. “At Delaney’s?”
“All coming back to you, huh?”
“Oh, whatever,” she mutters, and presses down on the accelerator.
We’re at the beach in no time. It’s still early and only a few cars are around, some young families and a couple of walkers getting their steps in.
Maddie keeps going, though, driving up the coast until we come to a street of cheerful-looking shops. A corner store. A clothes boutique. A gas station. And there, in the center, is an empty slot.
The building is obviously vacant. The old newspapers covering the door and the For Sale sign overhead would tell you that. There’s also the fact that it looks like it’s about to fall down.
“This is the building she’s been saving for?” I ask Ciara as we get out of the car.
“It’s the only one available,” she whispers back.
“And has she asked herself why?”
Maddie doesn’t pay attention to either of us, striding up to the window and cupping her hands around her eyes. It barely takes a second before she whirls around, victorious.
“I knew it,” she hisses as we join her.
I peer through the gaps in the newspapers and spy two men with their backs to us. One stands by the wall with a black clipboard in his hands, while Shane looks as if he’s dressed for a construction site and is already rolling out a measuring tape as Maddie pushes the door open.
Ciara rushes after her. “Maybe just wait until they’re— Okay, we’re going in. Yep. Sorry,” she adds to me, but I just shrug as she tugs me in after her.
The two men look up when we enter, their identical expressions of surprise turning to annoyance.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Shane’s head falls back, and he stares hard at the ceiling as if he’s looking for some divine presence to intervene.
The agent just smiles at her. “Is there something I can—”
“Yes,” Maddie snaps. “You can answer my calls for once. Or my emails. You’ve been avoiding me.”
“I understand you were interested in this location,” he begins patiently.
“More than interested! This place is mine.”
“Actually, this unit belongs to the owner, who has entrusted me to sell it on his behalf.” The mask of professionalism slips just a fraction. “Ideally, to someone who can pay for it.”
“I will pay for it.”
“And I’ll need to see proof of funds before I can—”
“I’m getting them! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
“—proceed. Then, if you’d like to arrange a visit with a surveyor, you can make an appointment, as Mr. McCauley did.”
“A private appointment,” Shane adds, looking tired.
“Why do you even want it?” she exclaims. “Why? Because I think it’s because of me.
I think it’s because I want it. This place has been vacant for two years and do you know the reason for that?
Do you? It’s because it’s shite. So shite that anyone with an ounce of sense would take one look and turn the other way. But not you.”
“And not you either.”
“Because I don’t have another choice,” she says, spreading her arms wide.
“This is me scraping the bottom of the barrel. I know it and everyone else does, too, but I don’t care because it’s the same reason I have been working every day this summer.
The same reason I have lost friendships and relationships and any hope of not developing premature wrinkles.
I found my dream, and this is it. This shitty, stressful, financially ruinous dream is mine, and I’m not going to let you take it just because you think it might be a fun little challenge.
There’s a toilet in the kitchen. Did you know that?
” She whirls on the estate agent. “Did you tell him that?” she demands.
The man clears his throat. “I think—”
“A toilet in the kitchen.”
Shane rubs a hand over his mouth as though he’s fighting back a smile, but he just shakes his head.
“This is my second viewing,” he says. “I’ve seen the toilet.” He takes a step toward her, and her shoulders stiffen, but she tilts her chin, meeting him head-on. “I have more money than you,” he says.
“I have more history.”
“Let’s see which the bank prefers, shall we?”
“Maddie, we should go.” Ciara tries to grab her hand, but Maddie shrugs her off.
“You think you’ll survive more than the summer here?” she asks him. “Tourists are all well and good, but if you don’t have the locals, then you don’t have anything.”
“Is that right?”
“It is,” she says, jabbing a finger at him.
“I grew up here. I’ve lived here my whole life.
I know everyone, and they all like me because I am extremely likable.
People want me to succeed. They’ll come out on the rainy days, and they’ll come out on the cold ones and they’ll come out for me.
You can go anywhere else in the county. Anywhere else in the country!
I can’t. This is my home. This is my community, so I need you to find somewhere else.
” She speaks the last few words slowly and clearly, as though begging him to understand, and Shane falls quiet for a long, weighted moment.
There’s an assessing glint in his eyes as he examines her, and I’m guessing Maddie knows better than to make her case again, because she doesn’t say another word.
None of us do.
And then Shane smiles. “No.”
Ciara mumbles something that sounds a lot like oh boy.
“You’ll be out of business within a year,” Maddie says. “Less.”
“Not if you’re my partner.”
“And if you think for a second that I’ll— What?” She stares at him. “What did you say?”
“I said, not if you’re my partner. In the business sense, that is.”
“Could you be serious for one—”
“I am,” he says, crossing his arms. “You just spent the last minute outlining all the reasons I won’t be able to do this without a local. You’re a local and you want to do this. Go into business with me.”
She scoffs, though the noise is a little high-pitched. “No.”
“Why not? It’s been made perfectly clear that this town isn’t big enough for both of us. This is a solution.”
“What, like fifty-fifty?”
He shrugs, as calm as if he were offering her a cup of coffee. “Maybe. We can discuss terms depending on how much you have to put in.”
“I…you…” She stumbles over her words, glancing around the room as though we’re all in on some big prank. “Why?” she finally asks.
“Because I like it here,” he says simply. “And, magnificent though you are when you’re mad, I’m not leaving just because you asked me to.”
The back of Maddie’s neck goes bright pink, but Shane seems to take her silence as agreement and turns expectantly to the baffled agent.
“You said I could see the space to the rear?”
“I did?” He tears his gaze away from Maddie, blinking back into professionalism.
“I mean, I did. You can. There’s more than enough room if you want to expand.
You could build a separate storage area or knock it through for a private parking space like next door have…
.” The man’s voice trails off as he leads Shane through the doorway at the back of the building.
Maddie jerks as though she’s going to follow, but Ciara grabs her hand before she can move. “What are you doing?” she whispers, although it sounds more like a hiss. “You’re not considering this, are you?”
“No!” A pause. “Maybe.”
“You can’t go into business with him. You don’t know him.”
“I don’t not know him.”
“Oh my God.” Ciara turns to me, seeking support, but there’s no way I’m wading into this one.
“I’m just a tourist,” I say, holding up my hands, and she shoots me a look before refocusing on Maddie.
“You have other options.”
“No, I don’t. There’s nowhere else around unless we build from scratch. And besides,” she adds, her back straightening, “I can handle him.”
“Absolutely,” Ciara says. “You totally can. But also, maybe you can’t. What if this is a trap?”
“You’re the one who was saying in the car how great he was.”
“I didn’t say he was great. I said he was not bad, and that’s because I thought you were coming here to murder him.”
“You want to look at this toilet or not?” Shane yells, and Maddie’s eyes spark as she tosses her curls over her shoulders.
“Keep your pants on,” she shouts back. “Give me ten minutes,” she adds to us, and then strides off after Shane, her flip-flops slapping against the bare concrete.
It’s another forty minutes of Maddie passive-aggressively following Shane around before she finally drives us back to the house.
She and Ciara argue the whole way there, but even I can see that Maddie isn’t going to be swayed on this one.
At least not yet. And I get it. To be so close to your dream.
Who wouldn’t barrel through the first door that’s cracked open for you?
“What about up in Kilashan?” Ciara suggests hopefully. “There are loads of vacant buildings there.”
“Yeah, because it’s a shithole,” Maddie says. “The pilgrims stopped going there years ago.”
“Pilgrims?” I ask.
Ciara twists in her seat to face me. “Some guy in the eighties claimed he saw the Virgin Mary outside a pub.”
“And he didn’t?”
“We’ll never know for sure. But we do know that he’d had at least eight pints and fell asleep in some bushes.”
“He saw her when he got up to pee,” Maddie adds. “Very sus. But a bishop came to check it out and everything.”
“I thought it was a cardinal,” Ciara says absently.
“The Pope said no, but it didn’t stop them from making a shrine, did it? Gift shop too. They sold these little bars of soap that smelled amazing. I think my aunt bought five of them when— What are you doing?”
Maddie breaks off in alarm as Ciara ducks down, cursing when she hits her head on the dashboard.
“Don’t stop,” she hisses. “Just drive.”
“Why are— Oh.”
I lean forward, peering through the windshield. We’re almost at Ciara’s house, but on the usually empty road several cars are now parked, and a handful of people mill about, taking pictures.
“Red alert,” Maddie calls, and drives even faster. Ciara stays hidden, and I twist in my seat, watching them as they zoom past. They pay us little attention, but they’re all clustered around her driveway, obviously looking for the house.
“Are there usually so many fans like that?” I ask.
“Never,” Maddie says. “Is it a Ravian anniversary?”
“I don’t think so.” Ciara gets back up, pushing the hair out of her eyes. She doesn’t look happy. “Let’s just go to Delaney’s.”
“You don’t want to call the guards?”
“They’ll go away soon.”
Maddie makes the turn for the village as my phone chimes in my pocket, and I take it out to see Casey’s number.
“Hi, boss,” I say, and Ciara glances back at me. “Now’s not a great time. Can I call you back?”
“I’m afraid this can’t wait.”
“What happened?” I ask, and strain to hear over the rush of wind in my ears. Ciara frowns.
“Someone’s leaked it,” Casey says. “Someone’s leaked the book.”