Chapter Twenty-Seven
The rest of the day passes by without incident and, by dinner, most of the guests who slept in to recover from the night before have re-emerged.
It feels like in the blink of an eye all the activities we’d planned are done, and we have nothing left to do, but tilt our heads and look up at the night sky.
When the sun finally sets, we gather all the guests and the press back at Kelly’s to lead them over to the fireworks, and I know I just have to get through the next few hours before I can go home to my bed and sleep for an eternity.
But of course, nothing is ever that easy.
I’ve just finished welcoming the last group of people off their hotel shuttle when I step back into the pub and see Jack Doyle standing by the bar.
I freeze at the sight of him, every muscle locking down as I watch him look about the room with vague disinterest.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, just as Callum reaches my side.
“Jack,” he says, sounding disappointed. “Come on. What are you doing?”
“I’m just trying to order a drink.”
“It’s the final night,” he says grimly. “Just let it go.”
“Believe me,” Jack says. “I’d much rather be spending my time somewhere else. But I was asked to be here.”
“By who?”
His eyes flick over my shoulder in response, victory flickering in his gaze, and I spin around to see a man entering the pub.
He must be in his mid-sixties. A small man, with a head of white hair and large brown eyes, he looks kind but looks can be deceiving and I watch warily as he strides toward us, the crowd on either side parting like the Red Sea.
“Jack?” Callum’s voice is low and angry, but his brother doesn’t seem to care. “What’s he doing here?”
Jack doesn’t answer, and a moment later, the man stops before me, beaming like we’re old friends.
“You’re the young lady I’ve been seeing on all my television screens,” he says.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He shakes my hand, his grip strong and sure.
“Gerald Cunningham. I’m sorry I haven’t stopped by before. ”
Those closest to me immediately go quiet, and Callum meets my questioning gaze with a small nod.
Jack’s boss.
“I hear you’ve been causing my protégé a bit of trouble,” he says, slapping Jack on the back. “What’s the delay now, Doyle? Three? Four months?”
“Five,” Jack says, clearing his throat.
Gerald just thumps him again. “No matter, no matter. These things happen. It’s a beautiful place you have here,” he adds, as Adam steps out from behind the bar. “A beautiful village.”
“Is there something we can help you with, Mr. Cunningham?” I ask, and Callum’s hand goes to the small of my back in a reassuring touch.
“I’m afraid it’s more a question of what we can offer you,” he says, and the smile that had been pulling at Jack’s mouth drops in confusion. He glances at his boss, while Gerald looks right at me.
“I’ll admit we’ve had to do some soul searching,” he says. He’s speaking just to me, and yet his voice carries over the room, as if he wants everyone to hear what he has to say. “And that my team here may have gone overboard.” At this Jack goes rigid, a dawning look of horror on his face.
“We just care so deeply about our work.” Gerald continues.
“That we sometimes overlook the important things. I’m incredibly impressed with what you’ve done here, and I’d like to apologize on behalf of the company for not listening to you sooner.
” His hand goes to Jack’s shoulder, and he smiles like he’s Father Christmas and not a tax-avoiding multimillionaire.
“As of right now, Glenmill will be stepping back from its acquisition of Kelly’s,” he says loudly, as cameras start to flash and phone screens record. “You’ve won.”
The room erupts.
Granted that may be the free Prosecco we’ve been passing around for the last thirty minutes, but I don’t really care. All the press and all the interviews have paid off. Everyone knows our story now, and for them the story has come to an end. And it was good one. At least for us.
For Jack, not so much. He stares at his boss for a beat before turning and pushing his way through the now overexcited crowd.
Callum gives my arm a brief squeeze before he follows him.
Gerald smiles widely at me and then moves too, but only so he can go deeper into the fray as journalists fight to shuffle as close as they can to him.
“He’s stealing your spotlight,” Gemma remarks, as the man starts shaking hands in the crowd, beaming at the praise.
“I don’t care.” And I don’t. Let him take it.
Because I won. I stand there, hoping for the words to sink in, but they don’t. They still don’t feel real, hovering above me just out of reach. I still have my job. I still have my home. I still have my village.
“Okay. Oh…Katie?” Gemma’s voice sounds very distant as she touches my arm. “You alright?”
“I think I’m freaking out.”
“That’s allowed. But you still have to breathe, okay? Do you want some water?”
No, I don’t want some water. I want a glass of champagne and possibly a shot of whiskey.
But before I have time to ask for either of those things, Adam grabs me from behind, spinning me in the air like I’m five years old, and I give a startled yelp, one that quickly dissolves into laughter.
“Thank you,” he says, setting me down only to grasp me by the shoulders. “Thank you.”
I grin at him. “Anytime, boss.”
“Congratulations,” Gemma says, smiling at the two of us, and I barely have time to blink before Adam lets me go, takes her face in his hands, and kisses her soundly on the lips.
My mouth drops open as wolf whistles sound around us. Cheers from guests who have no idea what they’re really looking at as, just as quickly as it happened, Adam lets her go. Gemma stumbles back with a dazed look and a blush on her cheeks.
“See!” I exclaim. “That’s all you had to do.”
But neither of them is looking at me, both turned to Noah who’s standing nearby.
Gemma looks horrified. “I didn’t—”
“Can you do that in private from now on?” he interrupts. “My mind is still developing, and I probably shouldn’t see that.”
They both just stare at him.
“Sure,” she says after a moment.
“Will you take me to the pool next week?” he asks Adam.
“Okay,” Adam says, still looking a little shell-shocked.
“Katie?” My name is a singsong as Nush hurries over with an unusually pleasant smile that immediately puts me on edge. “You’re needed outside. Your boyfriend’s about to throw down.”
My eyes go wide as she turns her attention to Gemma.
“What happened to your lipstick?”
I hurry outside before anyone can answer her. The parking lot is empty of people and dark except for the lights streaming out from the pub, and for a moment I’m confused before I see the two men standing over by Jack’s Jeep.
“Go back inside, Katie,” Callum says, when he spots me. “I’ve got this.”
“You come too,” I say, eyeing Jack warily. He looks frazzled, pulling at his hair, and while I don’t think he’s been drinking, I’ve been around enough drunk people in my life to know what it looks like when someone wants to throw up. “Do you want to sit down?” I ask him.
“No,” he snaps, and Callum’s gaze narrows.
“Don’t speak to her like that,” he warns, but Jack only scoffs.
“Do you know how much of an idiot I look right now? For weeks I’ve been doing his bidding on this.
For months. And the whole time he’s telling me to push and to push and that this is his decision and that this is what he wants and then he does this!
” He lets out a little laugh, like he’s telling himself a joke.
“I’m the one who’s been doing all the interviews.
I’m the one who’s been pushing back. He’s made me look ridiculous. ”
“Think you managed that all by yourself,” Callum says, but Jack’s not paying attention to him.
His gaze is on the pub, and I know he’s thinking of Gerald inside schmoozing and basking and doing all the things he threw Jack under the bus to do.
And while we might have saved the pub, I still have a festival to pull off.
“No,” I say quickly, stepping in front of Jack. He looks down at me like he’d forgotten I was even here. “You’re not welcome here right now. Cool off and if you want to kill the man, do it at your own place of business.”
He just scoffs at me and steps forward again.
“ Hey ,” Callum says sharply, and even I freeze at the tone of his voice. It’s not one I’ve ever heard from him before. “She said back up.”
He doesn’t, he keeps coming. Stubbornly I stand my ground and Jack crowds me for one second as he attempts to move past and then suddenly Callum is there, slipping into the small space between us, and pushing me behind him as he rears a hand back and hits his brother square in the jaw.
I always thought I knew what hitting someone looks like.
I’ve seen movies. I’ve watched clips online.
But in real life it’s very different. Surprising for one thing.
I’m not expecting either the action or the sound it makes.
Not a bam! like how it’s described in comic books, but a dull thump, kind of underwhelming, especially when Jack doesn’t stagger back or go sprawling to the ground.
He just kind of jerks back, putting a hand to his cheek and staring at his brother like he doesn’t know who he is.
The two men stare at each other and, though I’m nervous one of them is going to try something again, I don’t intervene. This isn’t about me.
Jack’s mouth opens and closes wordlessly, but I can’t tell whether he’s just testing nothing’s broken or is trying to say something. Nothing happens in the end; he just gives his brother a steely look and turns back to his car. A few seconds later, he’s gone.
The excited chatter of the party continues behind us, but neither of us move. Callum flexes his fingers almost absently, his thoughtful expression morphing into one of confusion when he sees me staring at him.
“What?”
“What do you mean, what ?” I snap. “You just punched him in the face!”
“Barely.”