Chapter 15 Natalie #2
“And his dad’s in town.” Sam bites her lip.
“And then today, while we were working horses, I mentioned to Rían that I was going to finish early.” She sighs.
“And he and his new girlfriend have apparently been dying to try an American Thanksgiving. Thanks a lot, TikTok, and I couldn’t really tell them they couldn’t come, since they’re just two people. ” She grimaces. “Sorry.”
Oh my word.
“Is there anyone else we didn’t know about who’s now coming?” Vanessa asks. “I did tell you Jack and his kids were coming, right?”
I nod. “You did, yes, and I doubt two small children will make much difference, so don’t worry.”
“Look!” Blaine shouts from upstairs. “Dad’s here. He parked right by Cillian.”
“Mason?” Sam hisses. “What’s he doing here?”
“I sort of invited him,” I say. “But it’s going to be fine. Mason said he’ll be on his best behavior.”
“So he’ll only sleep with two women?” Sam mutters.
“None of that,” I hiss.
Mason and Cillian walk through the door at the same time, each of them carrying a heavy bag.
“You brought the stew,” I say.
“I helped carry it,” Mason says.
I suppress a groan. “Thank you for that.”
“Why are we having stew?” Mason’s sideways glance is familiar. He does this whenever he’s sharing an inside joke with me, like he thinks Irish stew is somehow funny.
“Well, I was so busy working this afternoon that I burned the turkey beyond salvation,” I say. “But Cillian saved the day. Since we’re all immigrants here to Ireland, we’re going to have a main course of delicious Irish stew, and we’ll all be grateful for it.”
“Ooh,” Paul says. “With sausage? That’s my favorite lunch at school.”
“I wasn’t sure what people would like,” Cillian says.
“So I bought three kinds.” He smiles at me.
“Traditional lamb stew, a Dublin coddle, which has sausage in it, little man, and a farmhouse beef, since I hear that Americans usually like that best.” He sets his bag on the center of the counter.
“I even got a small container of the vegetarian stew, though I’m told it’s a little bland. ”
“Oh, I want that,” Blaine says. “I’m vegetarian now.”
“You are?” I ask. “Since when?”
“Since I found out bacon’s made of pigs.” She shakes her head. “I’m never eating animals again. Pudge is a pig, and that’s murder.”
Oh, boy. “Well, thank you, Cillian,” I say. “And Mason, you can set that bag here. We’ll be ready to eat in half an hour, so everyone go wash up so you’ll be ready.”
“Should I set the tables the same way we did yesterday?” Cillian asks.
“I can help,” Sam says. “Just show me what to do.”
The two of them disappear, setting the long table in the dining room.
“I can set up the kids’ table,” Vanessa says. “I assume we’re using paper plates for them.”
“I don’t have to sit there, right?” Hannah asks. “Because I’m not a baby. I’m fourteen.”
“It’s a matter of space,” I say. “We have enough seats for ten at the adult table, and that’s Vanessa, Jack, Richard, his father, Trish, Rian and his girlfriend, Sam, me, Cillian, and Mason, and we’re already over by one.
We’ll have to stick an extra seat on a corner.
I need you and the other teenagers to keep an eye on the smaller kids. ”
Hannah groans.
“Knock it off,” Mason says. “This isn’t the time or the place.”
“I think the table has leaves.” Cillian pops in from around the corner.
“Sorry—I overheard. I happened to notice earlier—the leaves were in the pantry. And once we put those in, we could just move a few chairs. It would be tight, but you could probably squeeze another three or four seats in there. Then Hannah, Clara, Bryce, and Trace could join us.”
“That’s amazing.” Hannah’s beaming as she leaves.
“We don’t want them at the adult table,” Mason snaps. “And now we’re stuck, thanks to Mr. Amazing here and his bag of solutions we don’t want.”
“Best behavior?” I mouth. Then I pull a face and shake my head tightly.
Mason throws his hands out and walks away.
“Why was that wrong?” Cillian asks.
Sam’s smirking. “Oh, I think I can explain this one.”
I snort.
“They wanted an adult table, and kids need to learn to deal with disappointment. Now we’ll have teenagers at our table, and Hannah got her way.”
“And more importantly,” I say pointedly. “No one will be in the other room to keep Paul from smearing mashed potatoes on the wall when Trina laughs at him making a joke about it.”
“Wait, would he do that?”
“Paul probably won’t, but Jack’s kids are even younger. Who knows what they’ll think is a good idea?” Sam’s really enjoying this too much.
“It’s fine,” Vanessa hands me extra napkins. “Jack and I can sit in there with them, and—”
“Not necessary.” Mason breezes back in. “I explained to Hannah that leaves or not, we need them to watch the other kids. She’s not happy, but she gets it.”
Before I can explain any further or make sure Cillian’s feelings aren’t hurt, Richard’s arriving with Jack right behind him.
I hear Sam’s audible sigh when Richard exits his car alone. “Where’s his dad?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Guess we’ll find out, but as long as he’s not here, that’s fine with me.” Her smile always lifts my spirits. “But either way, it’s definitely something to be thankful for.”
I can’t even imagine having a possible father-in-law who’s that imposing and fancy. I’m terribly relieved I’m not the one meeting his father. Seeing him at that show for five minutes was more than enough of the duke for me.
The rolls finish baking right on time, and buttering the tops keeps me busy while Vanessa shepherds Jack and his kids inside and they all make idle chitchat with Richard and Sam.
Rían shows up with a very cute blonde, and I’m actually a little impressed.
I mean, he’s a good-looking guy, but I didn’t think he’d have a lot of local pull, given that he’s a horse trainer for a small and very new resort.
Maybe that’s a better job in Ireland than I thought. “Nice to meet you,” I say.
“How can I help?” Caitlin-the-blonde-girlfriend asks. “I’ve never been to an American Thanksgiving, but I’ve always wanted to.” Her giggle’s cute.
“I’m a little embarrassed,” I say. “I got in a rush and burned the turkey.” I grimace. “It’s kind of the central point of most Thanksgiving celebrations.”
“I hear there’s stew instead,” Caitlin says.
“Word travels fast,” I say.
“Well, I’m friends with Ailbhe.” She smiles, like that should mean something to me.
I blink.
“Mrs. Murphy’s daughter?” Her eyebrows shoot up. “She told me she got sick, and that caused you some inconvenience lately.”
“OH.” I shake my head. “Of course. Yes. I’m sorry—I saw her name in a note from Mrs. Murphy before I ever heard it read aloud.
I thought it was pronounced Al-beh.” I pull a face.
“It’s not an American name, and Mrs. Murphy almost always just says, ‘my girl,’ or ‘my daughter,’ so I’m not sure I’ve ever heard her name said properly. ”
Caitlin laughs. “Ah, sorry. Yeah, she told me that you had to handle everything alone yesterday. She felt quite bad about it. That’s why her husband was happy to rush the large stew order for Cillian.”
Small towns are curious places. We aren’t connected in Lismore at all, but sometimes it feels like everyone else has known each other since birth. “He got the stew from Mrs. Murphy’s son-in-law?”
“Lucky that her husband’s still feeling fine. He’s staying at their restaurant for now, since they can’t run their business if they’re both ill.” Caitlin laughs. “Running your own business is amazing, until it’s not.”
“What do you do?” I ask.
She blushes. “I do hair—colors, cuts, that sort of thing.”
I reach for her arm, my excitement quite overcoming me. “You’re kidding.”
Sam somehow heard from across the room, and she entirely abandons her conversation to practically sprint over to us. “Did you say you do hair?”
Caitlin’s eyes go big and round. “Uh, yes, that’s right.”
“I’ve been driving to Waterford,” Sam says, “and I can’t keep doing that. Please tell me you have room for a new client.”
“I found her first,” I say. “Get your own hairstylist.”
Caitlin finally realizes we’re kidding, and she smiles. “Oh, well, I’m sure I can fit you both in.”
“Actually, that’s great for her,” Rían says. “She’s only been doing it here for a few months. She finished school in Dublin and stayed there to work, and just finally came back home.”
She swats his arm. “Don’t tell them that. It makes me sound like I’m no good.”
“Well, you have three new clients and our kids,” Vanessa says. “Your hair turns into a high-maintenance disaster in your forties, apparently.” She runs her hands through her shiny russet locks. “Two years ago, no grey. Now?” She shakes her head. “It’s horrible.”
The kids have gathered, and they keep trying to snatch rolls. After I slap the third grabbing hand, I call it. “I think we’re ready for dinner, if everyone’s hungry.”
“Thank goodness.” Paul half-collapses against the chair in the breakfast room. “I was about to die I’m so hungry.”
Most of us laugh, but for a split second, I can tell Cillian’s worried.
“He’s kidding,” I murmur. “He’s just a dramatic kid.”
“Right,” he says. “Yeah, I got that.”
I’ve been spending more and more time with him, but I’ve also been doing it without the kids, mostly. I suppose that will have to change, because it feels like he barely knows them. “Alright, would anyone like to volunteer to give a prayer?”
When no one does, I start the look-around.
In a surprise move, Richard actually offers. “I’ll do it.” He gives a surprisingly good prayer. Not too long, but thoughtful, and he blesses the food, the people present, and then thanks God for all our blessings, including our arrival here in Ireland and the lives we’ve changed for the better.
“What a great way to start Thanksgiving,” I say.
“Mom, you’re not going to make us do the thing, right?” Amelia asks. “Because there’s too many people, and it’s embarrassing.”