Chapter Seventeen
Beckett
Callan
Becks, let us know what you find out today.
Aoife
Aye, call us after. I still can’t believe Gran had this whole scandalous past none of us knew about.
Becks
We don’t know anything yet for sure. I just found a ring like hers, it could mean anything. She could have given them to all of her friends here.
Aoife
Nah, that’s not it. There’s a scandalous story here, I’m sure of it. Gran was a dark horse, and she had to have some sordid secrets up her sleeve.
Mam
Your Gran was not in any way sordid or scandalous. She was an upstanding member of the community.
Niamh
She for sure had a wild side. Remember Ronan McGinty’s wedding?
Eoin
Was that the night she drank too much Baileys and got Father Houlihan on the dance floor to do a jig with her?
Aoife
Oh, I remember that… Father Houlihan threw his back out, didn’t he?
Callan
Fair play to him, though—the old man’s got moves. And Gran was totally oblivious coz she was trying to get everyone up to do Rock the Boat.
Mam
Hush, now! Your grandmother will be turning over in her grave with all this chat!
Eoin
Ach you gotta admit though, Mam, that was a fierce good night.
Mam
So it was. But Beckett, do let us know what this Sissy character says.
Becks
Will do, Mam.
Callan
Also, hurry up and send more truck pictures, will ya! Or a Hummer, that’d be class.
Becks
You got it.
I have to laugh as I close out of the McCarthy Clan group chat and bring up my maps app to check that I’m still on the right route towards Oldford Park, where I’m meeting Keeley.
After she and I discovered yesterday that our Claddagh rings bear matching Gaelic inscriptions—and that my Gran had that same quote in English in her yearbook—we were both a little stunned.
And also unsure what, exactly, to do with this information.
The story that Gran used to tell me about a boy she loved and lost because fate had other plans for them jumped to my mind.
Could she have been telling me a story about my new next door neighbor’s grandfather?
The thought seems almost too crazy to be true.
I texted my family about the rings and the yearbook, but of course, that just led to twenty-four hours of pure speculation about Gran’s “sordid and scandalous” past.
Keeley is pretty sure her grandfather wouldn’t be able to help—he struggles to remember people. I also don’t want to potentially upset the guy by confusing him with questions he might not be able to answer.
Especially since, at this point—as I just mentioned in the family text conversation—it still could all be a big coincidence.
Unlikely, but possible. And I don’t want to be rash.
So, Keeley and I settled on stopping by the library—which is on the edge of Oldford Park—to see Sissy.
My grandmother’s apparent past best friend.
I wanted to go yesterday right after we found the yearbook, but Sissy takes Wednesdays off, and according to Keeley, nobody comes between Sissy and the hair salon.
My stomach rumbles—a reminder that it’s midday and I haven’t eaten yet. I spot a quaint-looking sandwich shop up ahead, and on a whim, I duck inside with the intent to grab some lunch for us. Keeley’s been at the library working all morning—I think she said something about horoscopes, which surely can’t be right—and I bet she’s hungry, too.
“Hey, there.” The teenage boy behind the counter greets me with a smile. “What can I get started for you?”
“Hi. I’ll have, um…” I pause as I peer at the menu, unsure what Keeley would like. “What’s a lobster roll?”
The kid blinks at me through his glasses. “Dude, you’ve never had a lobster roll?”
“I don’t think so.”
The kid shakes his head, like this is the most disappointing thing he’s heard all day. “You’re seriously missing out. It’s lobster meat mixed with mayo and seasoning, served on a soft bun, and you really need to try one, my man.”
His description makes me smile as I remember my conversation in the elevator with Keeley the day I moved here. “Sounds delicious. But do you happen to have anything with Miracle Whip?”