Chapter 21 Natalie #2
I straighten his tie, but then I smile and nod. “You look amazing.”
He leans forward like he’s thinking about kissing me.
In front of all his employees.
I shake my head just a bit, and he winks.
Then he stands and walks to the front of the room, pulling out some cards as he walks up the stairs to the raised platform.
He approaches the mic and turns on his hundred-watt smile.
“I’m sorry for the delay tonight, but we had an unavoidable situation.
” He catches my eye and smiles. “But I promise, the delay will be worth it. These cards I’m holding are the gift cards for the employee of the year at each office. ”
There’s a lot of clapping then.
The caterers come to clear Cillian’s soup, and I put up my hand. “No, no, he’s not had any yet.”
“He won’t eat it once it’s cold,” the woman who runs Waterford says. “He’s quirky about that.”
I realize how little I actually know about Cillian Doherty as his co-worker—his employee—explains basic things like his food preferences to me. “Oh, okay. Sorry.”
Before I can wallow too much, Cillian’s calling my name. “Natalie Cleary, can you possibly come up to help me? I thought tonight that my girlfriend might be able to fairly and impartially pick the raffle winners.”
Girlfriend.
I’m in a plain, frumpy-adjacent dress, and I made him late, but he’s introducing me with a full smile as his girlfriend. Almost four dozen people in the room cheer as I stand up and walk up the stairs to stand beside him in the corner or the room.
“I know most of you haven’t met Natalie yet.” He drops an arm around my waist. “That’s my fault. I’ve been keeping her a secret, because then I don’t have to share her as much.”
“Oh, please.” My cheeks heat.
“I was the second person in Lismore to meet this woman, back in April, when she was here for a girls’ trip. I liked her so much that I convinced her to buy my Aunt Clara’s old estate and turn it into an inn.”
I lean toward the mic. “That’s not entirely true. He didn’t like me then at all. He liked my friend.”
Everyone laughs at that.
“Alright, I’ll admit that while I thought she was impressive in April, it took me a few months to realize quite how impressive she was, but the second I did, I made my play.” He yanks me closer, his hand tightening on my waist. “So if I see any of you men talking to her later, you’re fired.”
Thankfully, everyone laughs. Funny as a joke—not if he’s serious.
“Many of you have heard me brag about how well her brand-new business is going.”
Some man from the back shouts. “Yeah, I can’t believe she’s forgiven you for unloading that pile of rocks on her. Poor unsuspecting Americans.”
Cillian laughs, and I’m beginning to think that they have a little too much fun at his offices. “Natalie certainly saw more potential in Clara’s place than I did.”
“Pick the prizes already!” Someone else shouts, a woman this time.
“I’m happy to see that people have been taking advantage of the open bar.
” Cillian laughs, and everyone else laughs with him again.
“But I do think it’s time for the lovely Natalie to reach into this box and pull some raffle tickets out.
As you all know, the end of the year is a rough time to be in real estate.
While it is the holiday season, there are always people trying to close deals before the clock strikes, and when there’s money to be made, Cillian Doherty will be right there in the center of things, making it. ”
Even though people laugh, I suspect that’s actually true. I’m not going to lie—it’s hot, too.
“But I also reward the people who work for me handsomely, and as you’ll already have noticed when your winter bonuses hit last week, we had a very good year here.”
Lots of cheering.
“Now let’s see who won the five hundred euro Visa cards.” He has me draw five people. Their reactions vary from shouting, to jumping up and down, to simply smiling and walking up to take the card. People are funny, even in Ireland.
“And now, one of you will win a vacation to sunny Crete. Natalie?” He picks up the box and shakes it.
I reach in, and I pull out a name. When Cillian reads it, it’s the woman in the back, the ‘Pick the prizes’ lady. She screams so loudly, I almost reach up to cover my ears.
“That was exciting, Bridie,” Cillian says, once she’s finally calmed down. “And now, we have the two cash prizes. Natalie, why don’t you pick two names this time.”
When I draw them and Cillian reads them, a man from the same table as the last winner and the woman who runs Waterford both stand up. There’s a lot less screaming, and bizarrely, I miss it.
“Normally, I would say don’t spend all of this in one place, but I know you’ve been eyeing an Italian villa.” Cillian hands the envelope to the Waterford woman. “And I know you want a new car.” He hands it to the man.
“Was hoping to win big, but I suppose this’ll have to do.” The man takes the envelope and mutters some thanks.
It was a little rude, but I’m guessing he has a bigger prize that everyone knows is coming.
Cillian grabs the box again and shakes it several times. “And now, the moment you all wait for all year, it’s time to win the car.”
“A car?” I mouth.
“Ah, Natalie doesn’t know.” He lowers the box, and the people in the room, who clearly all do understand what’s going on, start grumbling.
“We should at least explain what she’s choosing.
Every year, I buy a fabulous car in January, and then at the end of the year, one lucky person can win it in a raffle. ”
“Whoa,” I say. “Which car is it?”
“It’s the silver Audi R8 we took to dinner last week.”
“But I liked that one,” I say with a smile. “Now I’m sad.”
“I put your name in here.” He shakes the box.
Now the audience is booing. “You can’t give it to your girlfriend!” the woman in the back shouts.
“If he bought her a ticket, he can,” the man who runs Cork says. “That’s the rules.”
“All the proceeds from the tickets go to St. Carthage’s House,” Cillian says, “to care for the local elderly folks who are struggling, as you all know. We often raise as much as thirty or forty thousand euro.”
Smart. He’s generous, he gives away a car, boosting morale, and the charity of his choosing also benefits. “Alright, well, who’s winning it this year?” I lift my hand. “Let’s find out.”
“If she picks her own name, I’m walking out,” says the loud woman.
“Hush, Bridie. You already won the vacation.” The woman next to her is clearly as fed up as I am.
“Alright, here she goes.” Cillian thrusts the box at me, and I draw one ticket and hand it to him. “The winner this year is. . .” He squints. “Clodagh Murphy.”
It’s the woman who told Bridie to hush! I like her already.
Unlike her friend, her eyes widen, and she quietly freaks out, culminating with tears streaming down her face.
By the time she stands, everyone else is clapping, so she must be an office favorite.
As she walks toward the podium to accept the keys Cillian’s holding, she’s progressed to ugly crying.
It’s actually quite sweet.
She hugs Cillian quite tightly, then springs away, her head spinning toward me. “Sorry, I’m so sorry, lass.”
Lass. I’ve never been called lass in my life, but having a woman who’s probably within five years of me call me lass is, well, it’s funny. “Of course,” I say. “No problem at all.” I smile at her. “It’s a big night.”
She nods vigorously. “It certainly is!” And then she hugs me. “Thank you for drawing my name.”
The rest of the night goes by in a blur. Cillian finally gets to eat, and then the dancing starts. I might have one glass too many, because people and faces start to be harder to remember. Cillian looks happy, though, and the people whose names I drew keep coming up to thank me.
“How much did you raise for charity this year?” I finally remember to ask, as we’re on our way back to Fortwilliam. “It’s a really nice thing you do.”
“Just under forty thousand,” he says. “People have the money to buy raffle tickets, because they just got their Christmas bonuses.” He’s smiling. “But they know it’s all in good fun.”
“Will the woman who won it keep the car?”
“They have to keep it for a month,” he says.
“Almost no one actually keeps it beyond then. Keeping a car that’s worth that much is hard for most people who work for me, even though I pay them well.
They’ll drive it for a bit, have some fun and enjoy a little special attention, and then they’ll sell it and use the money for something they want more, like a vacation, a college fund, or a new home. ”
“It’s a kind thing you do,” I say. “You don’t have to do that.”
“They’re like my family,” he says. “I built the company up, and I care for the people who work for me a great deal.”
I can tell that’s true, but I think it’s a sad substitute for a real family.
“What?”
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
“One of the things I really appreciate about you is that you understand I have to work and why. I know I’ve been busy lately, and you haven’t seen me that much, but you don’t hassle me about it like. . .” He grips the steering wheel tighter.
I can’t help my smile. “Like past girlfriends, I assume?”
He sighs. “I don’t try to bring them up, but yes. They always get really clingy at Christmas, and they’re upset that I’m not around for all their things, like parties and Christmas markets and whatnot.”
My brow furrows. “I mean, everyone’s job will have some good and some bad, but I also have kids who take up a lot of time, especially around Christmas. I suppose we’re both busy.”
I can’t help wondering why I’m not more clingy, though.
It feels like a bad sign, like I should be more upset that he’s not around.
When he drops me off, he doesn’t hop out to open the door, which would be corny, but he does lean across the console and kiss me.
Really well. “I’ll call you tomorrow? I’d love to try and get lunch. I think I have time between closings.”
I nod. “I’d like that.”