Chapter 19
NINETEEN
‘That’s down for the day.’ Dan motions towards the snow still pelting down outside. ‘I need to get into the village, T. Faith is getting closer.’
‘Shall I bring the jeep around for you?’ Terry asks. ‘We’re going to need more turf in case we get snowed in like last year?’
‘Good idea.’ Dan peers out the window.
‘I do apologise, we still have not made an acquaintance.’ Terry’s voice is surprisingly upper-class English, very posh, like Hugh Grant only deeper.
Standing at about six-foot-five, I’m guessing, he has a thick black beard that covers his entire neck and black thick rimmed glasses, and is in khaki paint-splattered overalls and black wellington boots.
Why I assumed he was Heartwell born I have no idea.
Seems a lot of Heartwell folk aren’t from Heartwell originally at all.
‘Maggie Grace, lovely to meet you.’ I take his huge, hot hand.
‘Pull the jeep right up to the front door, please. There is more heavy snow up in those skies there too,’ Dan says.
‘I need to talk to you about the village meeting . . .’ Terry starts.
Dan jumps in.
‘Can it wait? Because this can’t.’ Dan picks up a newspaper scattered on one of the tables.
‘Of course.’ Terry turns to me. ‘It was my great pleasure, Miss Maggie.’ Terry reaches for my hand and kisses it.
‘Well now, I do feel all Downton Abbey.’ Now, I do giggle.
‘I tend to apply the old-fashioned traditions. Courtesy, a gesture of respect and admiration are traits I think the world should hold onto and needs more of. My good lady, Giselle, agrees,’ Terry says but with a glint of humour in his eye.
‘Maggie, go get your shoes and coat on and I’ll meet you at the front door,’ Dan instructs me.
‘What? Where are we going?’ I’m confused.
‘To help you find those Irish great-great-grandparents.’ Dan laughs.
‘We’ll catch Marina before she closes up the genealogy centre for the day.
She’s the best in the business, no website can compare.
People travel from all over to see her but we need to hurry, she leaves to go home to Berlin for Christmas soon. ’
‘Are you sure?’ I clench my fists; I’m thrilled.
‘Course I am, now hurry.’ Dan shoos me on.
‘Is Marina finally off to meet this online man?’ Terry grunts.
‘So I hear, all the girls are terrified she’s being catfished . . .’ Dan’s voice trails off as, without another second’s hesitation, I run to the fireplace and grab my boots. Feeling like Cinderella, I take the staircase two at a time in my stockinged feet, hopping skilfully over the last step.
All I can think about as I unlock my bedroom door is the fact that Dan owns this castle. I have to tell him what I know.
I grab my green wool coat that is still damp after the walk home in the snow and wriggle my feet into my running shoes. Quickly, I pull my comb through my hair and dab on a bit of blusher. Then I shut the door with a click and rush back down the grand staircase. As I pass reception, Mary is there.
‘Maggie, lovey,’ Mary greets me. A young man and woman are standing in front of her with a baby in a pram.
‘Hi, Mary.’ I wave as I jog past.
I hear Mary apologising to the couple and the woman say, ‘But it’s the only place I’ve ever wanted to be married in,’ and the man say, ‘But that’s way over our budget.’
At the castle door, Dan is waiting for me, now dressed in his wax jacket and black flat cap, his head low, hands thrust deep into his pockets.
I feel so protective of him all of a sudden.
He’s taken on a castle that he can’t keep going.
It must be absolutely heartbreaking for him, especially to have to sell it to someone like Frederick, even if Amanda assured me he is keeping it exactly as it is, staff included.
He’s deep in conversation with Terry but the chat finishes abruptly as I step in beside the two of them.
‘After you,’ Terry says to me and holds the heavy castle door back.
‘Thank you, Terry.’ I pull on my leather gloves, my fingers already tingling at the thoughts of sitting close beside Dan in his jeep. But I feel a little sick at the thoughts of telling him about my first-hand knowledge of the sale.
‘I’ll take that to the village for Joe to fix too,’ Terry calls after us and Dan seems to raise a thumb in understanding as my running shoes crunch over the gravel. Ducking to avoid the snowy sleet, I haul myself up into Dan’s battered jeep.
‘She’s seen better days.’ Dan hops in. He moves papers off the dashboard. ‘Not much better myself.’
‘Ah, I think you’re holding up alright.’ Stop, I chastise myself. Stop flirting with him. Although I have to admit, it feels fantastic to flirt so unashamedly. I watch the wipers slosh thick white snow from side to side as I buckle up.
‘A compliment? From the sassy American? Well I never,’ Dan tells me as he checks his rear-view mirror and we both laugh.
‘It’s so funny that your impression of me is sassy. I’m literally the quietest person ever, Dan, I—’
‘You don’t say?’ He butts in, looks genuinely shocked as his dark eyes zip from the road to me and back again and his feet change the pedals.
‘Because I’m the exact same. I’m so non-confrontational.
Ask anyone in the village. Drives Terry round the twist. He’s always stepping in to fight my battles.
But I’ve had the week from hell. Ah, make that a year of hell, Maggie. I don’t admit that to many.’
‘I know . . . I . . .’ Here goes. I clench my fists.
‘Hey, it’s too beautiful an evening to do anything but count our blessings, right? It’s Christmas, look out your window. Look at all this beauty around us.’
‘I do have something I want to talk to you about, regarding my work but . . . it can wait.’ I sit back and do as he says.
Thick snow falls, covering the castle grounds for as far as I can see.
It’s peaceful, so calm. It’s a million miles away from the festive madness of Manhattan.
I can’t have this conversation while he’s driving.
I’ll tell him later as soon as we pull back into Castlemoon.
I’ll be one hundred percent honest with him then.
‘So, do you have siblings?’ I want to know everything I can about Dan before I have to leave, to add to my memory. To add to my perfect memories of this perfect place.
‘One older brother, he’s married now but he took off years ago, didn’t want to stay here.
But sometimes you just have to do the right thing in life, don’t you?
Or maybe fate has it all mapped out?’ He does that cheeky wink at me then he turns the jeep past the pub and honks and waves at Gráinne and a blond guy crossing the road.
‘How’rya Gráinne!’ he calls out the window.
‘Uh-oh, Clare is not going to like that!’ he says through gritted teeth as I’m also waving madly.
‘Why? Who’s that?’ I ask.
‘Jack Traynor.’
‘Jack? Clare’s ex?’ I gasp, recalling the conversation we had in the library.
‘How did you know that?’ Dan’s wide eyes dart to me
‘It’s a very chatty village. Women talk,’ I add, that feeling of wanting to belong here becoming stronger by the day.
‘Clare and Gráinne fell out over Jack Traynor years ago. He was dating Gráinne first. He’s not a bad lad, just a bit of a player. He’s an incredible showjumper, a lot say he’ll ride for Ireland one day.’
‘I think Clare wants him back,’ I say. Once again, I feel like I know them all.
‘Ah sure, let fate play her card,’ he says almost whimsically.
‘So, you really do believe in fate, don’t you?’ I’m staring hard at his side profile, taking in the perfect dimensions of his face.
‘I do.’ He turns to look at me and quickly I move my head back, staring straight ahead.
‘It’s been a real thing in the folklore of my life as you now know, having talked to my folks.
I can’t dispute those facts. Had my mother not got a job at Castlemoon, and walked into the Sweet Orange Room with my father’s post that very night he sat with his head in his hands, at the end of his tether, I wouldn’t be here never mind the castle. ’
‘I wish I could be convinced,’ I say softly. ‘I wouldn’t stress so much about my life. If I knew there was a plan, that it was all mapped out, meant to be.’
‘The legend of Castlemoon is real but I’ll let you be, I won’t try influence your story. I don’t need to.’ Dan drums his long fingers on his left hand on the gear stick.
‘You do know I’m dying to ask about Denise right now. It’s the writer in me.’ It seems the perfect time to ask, while he’s on about fate.
‘Aha, I walked into that one. Well, sometimes fate can work in the opposite way. It protected me. She was pretending to love me when all she really loved was the idea of being a Lady, in name.’ He indicates, checks his wing mirror.
‘She pretended to have the same interests I have which, I won’t lie to you, are mainly the castle, the village and my dog.
’ A side glance to me again. ‘But when she realised that Castlemoon is only rich in its very being, she ran a mile.’
‘I’m sorry. Really sorry. No wonder you find it hard to trust,’ I sympathise.
‘You?’ He steers the wheel with the palm of his hand, the wipers move the snowfall.
‘Cooper Dwight. Two years. I thought I was in love with him . . .’ I want to say but now I’ve met you I don’t know what that was!
‘But when he dumped me it was how he did it – he said he’d fallen in love with this girl, Tanya.
They worked together and he said he loved her in a way he’d never loved me.
It cut me. Really deep. Now though, I realise it was the way he did it more than the fact it was. ’
‘Ouch.’ He makes that heart clutching move again he likes to do.
‘Funny thing is, I hadn’t seen him in two years and a few days ago, by complete coincidence, he knocks on the door of the house I have a room in to deliver something and asks me to unblock him so he can text me, tells me he’s single now.
I never blocked him, he never even tried once to text me. He’s a liar.’