Chapter 21
Keefe moved swiftly through the kitchen wiping down the counters, giving everything a good polish. A quiche was in the oven, its buttery scent filling the air, and there was still a list of tasks waiting for him.
The grand opening of the pub was just around the corner, and every minute counted. He should have been thinking about the menu—maybe adding a Sunday brunch to bring in the late-morning crowd—but instead, his mind kept drifting back to Sophie.
At first, he had chalked it up to stress. They both had their hands full, and Sophie had always been a perfectionist. But this—this was something else entirely. She had been moody for days now, snapping over the smallest things and pacing the pub like a caged animal. He hadn’t seen her like this in a long time. It worried him.
And speak of the devil, Sophie shoved open the back door of the kitchen with her hip, nearly dropping a bag as she stormed inside, a gust of wind following.
The door smacked against the wall with a thud, rattling the dishes on the nearest shelf and making Keefe glance up from sweeping the floor.
Juggling three overstuffed grocery bags, she grumbled under her breath, her cheeks flushed with irritation. A loose strand of hair had escaped her messy bun and clung to her cheek, and she huffed in frustration as she dumped the bags onto the counter.
Keefe raised an eyebrow at her dramatic entrance. “Jeesh! What’s got you in a tizzy? Bad day at the store?” He started unloading the bags, digging through the produce. “Did you get the strawberries?”
Still scowling, Sophie yanked off her coat and tossed it onto a hook with unnecessary force. “No. Jesus. You would think Belgian diamond merchants had handled those berries for what they were charging!”
“Hm, I’m meeting a produce supplier later today. Hopefully, they work out.”
“Yeah, hopefully.” Sophie exhaled sharply. She was starving and had a headache brewing. “Is there anything to eat?” she asked as she reached onto a shelf and brought out a bottle of aspirin.
“How about a slice of quiche? It will be ready in a couple of minutes. You can tell me what you think. I’m thinking of having it as a special.”
“Is that what smells so good?” She sniffed the comforting, warm air. It carried a scent that only came from cooking. And Keefe’s quiche was nothing but butter, cream, silky eggs, flaky pastry, and melty cheese.
Calories upon sinful, melty calories.
You bet that would do the trick!
While Keefe put away the groceries, Sophie poured herself a glass of water then fell onto the stool at the counter and took the aspirin.
Once he was finished and his kitchen was once again pristine, Keefe fetched a bottle of Coke from the fridge and perched himself beside his sister, nudging her shoulder. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” Knowing the caffeine would help, he poured some of the soda into her empty glass. “You’ve been off for days now. Did something happen with Liam?”
She gave a weak smile at her brother’s thoughtfulness but she certainly wasn’t ready to tell him what was truly bothering her, but she could share the second thing on her mind and, with a clear conscious, know she hadn’t lied to her brother.
After taking a drink, she tossed her hand in the air and with a sigh said, “I still haven’t found a waitress. Only three girls answered the ad so far—one was far too young, and the other rejected the job. Said she didn’t like the idea of working for an American.”
Keefe snorted. “Well, that’s a new one. What did she think you would do? Make her pledge allegiance to the stars and stripes before every shift?”
“Apparently, my mere presence was offensive enough,” Sophie muttered, grabbing an apple from the bowl beside her and taking a fierce bite. “I’ve been advertising that position for weeks. At this point, I’d hire a ghost if it could carry a tray.”
“Did you explain our family?”
“I did, and she looked at me like I had four heads.”
Keefe shook his head. Some people… “What about the third girl?”
“Never even showed up for the interview.”
Keefe sighed. “Well, maybe we’ll get lucky and someone desperate will wander in.”
As if on cue, a knock sounded at the back door.
“Who could that be?”
“Maybe Liam is stopping by? I haven’t seen him around in a week at least. Where’s he been hiding?”
Sophie said nothing, but something in her eyes changed, which made Keefe suspicious. But now was not the time, so he went and answered the door. “Ginny?” Keefe said, astonished.
“Hi there, Keefe!”
Sophie blinked as she turned toward the door. Ginny, the sweet Southern tourist, stood on the step, smiling brightly.
“Come in, come in,” Keefe said, waving her inside. “We never thought we’d see you again. What are you up to?”
“My is it windy out there!” Ginny smoothed her hair and made a very conscience effort to keep the explanation of her presence brief. “Well, you see, I got off the bus from that tour and well, I just felt so cheated. So, with the help of Benjamin?—”
“The tour guide?” asked Sophie.
“That’s right. He helped me rent a car and taught me how to drive on the left—who knew you just have to hug that middle line—and so I’ve been here ever since driving around and seeing Ireland for myself. On that awful tour, the people all had their stupid phones in the air, taking pictures and blocking the view most of the time. I hardly saw anything! But Ireland’s been like nothing I’ve ever seen! There’s such an, I don’t know, almost sacred, melancholy beauty here, don’t you think?” Without waiting for a reply, she continued. “And then I asked myself why am I in such a hurry to leave such a beautiful place? And you guys were just so nice and I felt so at home here. There are just no words.”
“That’s really nice, Ginny. I’m glad that you’re finally enjoying your vacation.” Sweet and darling as Ginny was, Sophie had a whacking headache, and both her and Keefe had a lot of work to do so this conversation of ‘no words’ needed to move a little faster. “What can we do for you?” asked Sophie.
“Oh! I’m sorry. Silly me! I wondered, if maybe that job was still open?”
Sophie stood up straight and nearly pounced on Ginny. “The waitressing job? Yes! Why? Are you saying you’ll take it?”
Keefe laid a hand on Sophie’s shoulder. She had reacted a little too eagerly and Ginny had taken a small step backward. “Yes, it’s still open. Ginny, the job is yours if you want it,” he said.
“Well, I don’t really know how long I can stay. I kind of ran away from my life but, yes, I do. If you’ll have me.”
More than pleased with Ginny’s news, Sophie slapped her hands on her thighs. “I’ll take you for as long as you’ll stay. When do you want to start?”
Before this went any further Keefe wanted to know more about whatever life Ginny had run away from. Clearly, Sophie wasn’t thinking straight or she too would have asked before offering her the job. “Ginny, you, you ran away from your life? What’s back home that you’re running away from? Are you in trouble?”
“Oh, no, nothing like that.” Ginny waved her hand in the air dismissing his suspicion. “But you know… the typical things you’d expect. Disappointed friends and family.” Ginny’s head dropped, and she looked away in shame. “The truth is, I was jilted at the altar.” When neither Keefe nor Sophie reacted with judgment, she raised her eyes, but her voice stayed low and forlorn. “Maxwell—that was my fiancé’s name—he ran off with my maid of honor. They didn’t even tell me themselves. Somebody saw them at the airport. They were leaving to go on what was supposed to be my honeymoon. And anyway, now everybody looks at me like I must have done something wrong. Even my own parents… Truth is, I’ve never felt so stupid and lonely in my whole life.” The twins couldn’t believe their ears. And with the way Ginny could talk, they expected more of the story, but then, just like that she was happy and bright again. She shook out her hair and smiled. “Look at me going on about my troubles. If I say any more, you won’t give me that job anymore.”
Keefe and Sophie shared a look and nodded. They liked this Southern chatterbox. “Ginny, do you like quiche?” asked Sophie.
“Yes…” Were they offering it to her to eat or were they going to slap a quiche in her face?
“Why don’t you stay for some lunch?” asked Keefe.
“Really? That would be so nice, thank you,” replied Ginny brightly.
Keefe opened the fridge and gestured for Ginny to take her pick. She didn’t hesitate. “You wouldn’t happen to have any sweet tea, would you?”
Of course, she asked for that. It wasn’t something she could find in Ireland. Unfortunately, Keefe didn’t have any either—but he wasn’t about to admit defeat. “I can make some,” he offered, already filling the kettle to boil. “You have a seat and I’ll have it ready in a jiffy.”
As he set to work, he remembered the batch of fluffy buttermilk biscuits tucked away in the freezer. Perfect. He could have them warmed up in no time.
While he busied himself with tea and buttermilk biscuits, Sophie did something unexpected—she offered her sympathy and opened up in a way Keefe hadn’t heard her do before—at least not to anyone but him. He kept his hands busy, but his ears perked up.
“Try not to be so hard on yourself, Ginny. I know what it’s like feeling stupid and lonely.”
“You do?”
Sophie took a sip of Coke and nodded as she lowered her glass. “My husband and I wanted children—well, him more than me if I’m honest but anyway, we tried and waited and when he’d waited long enough we went to the doctor. It turned out that I’m barren.” Sophie shrugged her shoulders. “Which, to my husband was the worst thing I could have done to him.”
“Oh, my God. I am so sorry.”
“Thanks. He had all sorts of ways to punish me. The bastard made my life a living hell.” Sophie exhaled a long sigh. “Anyways, he cheated with I don’t know how many women but he ended up getting his latest twenty-year-old secretary pregnant.” Ginny gasped, and Sophie nodded. “They had their first child before our divorce was even finalized. And now, they’re having another baby and getting married.” Sophie had said it all without any real feeling. No anger, no sadness, no nothing, really. That was all in the past now.
It was time to move on.
Ginny wiped her eyes and sniffled, asking Keefe for a tissue. He didn’t have one, so he offered her a kitchen towel. “And here’s me going on about my life and all that time you probably wanted to slap me silly and tell me to stop whining and pull up my big girl panties.”
Sophie chuckled. Ginny sure had a way of phrasing things. “I wasn’t thinking that, really, I promise you. Listen, Ginny, you’re just lucky he left you now before he stole your youth and ruined your life.”
“You really think so?”
“No nice guy would do something like that. He wasn’t ever going to love you. Good riddance to him.” Sophie pointed her thumb over her shoulder.
Ginny bucked up right away and with a very determined tone of voice declared, “That’s right! He really was slicker than a boiled onion and twice as useless—and his feet smelled all the time too—good riddance!”
No longer the least bit irritated, Sophie found herself laughing again. Ginny was a ray of sunshine. “Are you sure we’re from the same country?”
“Sure, we are! Only you talk faster.”
Keefe checked on the quiche, decided it needed another minute, then strolled over to Sophie. “You’re in for it with my sister, here.” He slung an arm around her shoulders, yanking her in for a dramatic forehead kiss. “She’s all fairy princess—right up until she’s not. Then you’ve got the devil herself barking orders. Trust me, I’ve got the battle scars to prove it.”
“Keefe?”
“Yeah, sis?”
“Shut your face.”
An idea then sparked in Keefe’s head. “Hey Soph, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Sophie looked up into her brother’s eyes and knew. “About the B&B?”
Keefe nodded. “Ginny, we were discussing what to do with the upstairs rooms. How would you feel about living above the pub and running a bed-and-breakfast? We have three rooms we’d like to rent out.”
“Really? Do you mean it? I’d love to!” she squealed as she leaped from her seat and threw her arms around Keefe and Sophie, squeezing the life out of them.
“Then it’s a deal.” Keefe, who was currently being strangled, said. “You can move in next week.” Finally, Ginny released them and he could breathe. “Will you be fine for lodging until then?”
“Oh, yes. I’ve got a room at a great hotel in Killarney.”
With the quiche now properly baked to perfection, Keefe went to work plating up the slices and made the sweet tea.
“Is it the Swan Lake Hotel?” asked Sophie.
“That’s the one. What a beautiful place that is! All those mountains—and that lake—and the ruins, and swans! I even saw a bunch of deer while I was soaking in the hot tub.” She caught herself talking too much again. “Anyway, I’ve got plans to see a few more sights.”
Keefe slid a plate in front of Ginny, piled high with a fresh slice of quiche and a warm buttermilk biscuit slathered in butter then set down a tall glass of sweet iced tea beside it. And without missing a beat, he handed her a thermos filled to the brim.
“There you go, darlin’,” he said with an exaggerated Southern accent. “Figured you might need a little taste of home.”
Ginny was delighted with her tea. “Thank you so much!” She picked up her glass and took a long drink then set it down and wiped the top of her lip. “This is perfect! It’s even got that beautiful foam on top—that’s how you know it’s fresh! Keefe, you’re an angel from Heaven!”
He wasn’t stupid—Ginny would not find proper sweet tea anywhere else, and if he had any hope of keeping his sister from tearing her hair out, he needed Ginny to come back and actually take the job. A little Southern hospitality never hurt anyone—especially when it came with a job offer attached.