Chapter 35
35
Dan Kilcroney was in the lobby, watching a man hoist an overpacked explosion of orchids, birds of paradise and countless other flowers onto the reception desk.
“Ms Walsh?” Kilcroney called.
Over-politely I turned towards him. Arse-brain?
“These are for you.” He pointed at the vast bouquet.
The other man stepped forward and touched his chest. “Farrelly the Flowers. I don’t shake hands, nothing personal. Even Ben Mendoza himself just gets a wave and he won an Oscar. You’re Anna Walsh? Well, these are for you. From Mr Joseph Armstrong. Will I read out the card?”
“No! I mean, thanks, no need, I can read it myself.”
“I’ll save you the bother. ‘Sweet-face,’ he says.” Farrelly the Flowers looked up. “A little nickname, is it? ‘Sweet-face. I’m forever grateful. Narky Joey.’ Another little nickname, is it? Then there’s three Xs. He was very specific. Three, he said. Uppercase, he said.”
“…Thank you.”
“The call came in at eight thirty-seven this morning. He was lucky to get me, I could have been below in Galway at the flower market. All business, he told me to put the entire shop into the bouquet. Money no object. I took him at his word and the Amex card worked—it’s been like my own personal Valentine’s Day. I’m thinking of putting a picture up on the website and calling it the Money No Object Arrangement.”
My heart felt full: this was lovely. Not just the flowers themselves—at least they would be when Courtney helped decant them into several vases—but without addressing anything directly, Joey had erased a lot of the shame I’d been carrying.
“But”—Farrelly was still talking—“if anyone in the town dies between now and Tuesday, we’re fucked. Not a cut flower left in Connemara. Apart from lilies. The go-boy was very insistent—no lilies.”
“No lilies?” My voice was choked.
“He said they upset you. Have I it right? Otherwise I can go below and get you a few. On me.”
“No need.”
“They do upset you?” He stepped closer.
Seriously, the nosiness of Irish people! All right then, he’d asked for it. “My husband died suddenly. Killed in a car crash. The smell of lilies brings back the funeral.”
That should make him sorry he’d asked. But it only made him worse. “Desperate stuff.” He stepped closer. “Recent?”
“Sixteen years ago.”
“So you got married when you were three?”
He was trying to be nice, so I let him get away with it.
Out in the town, festivities were in the air. Shop windows were decorated with giant, metallic shamrocks. The traffic in Main Street was diverted because men on ladders were hanging green bunting between opposite sides of the road. Dozens of crowd-control barriers were stacked against the wall of Carr’s cars. For Saturday’s parade, I suppose.
After the stresses and anxieties of the preceding few days, I was bone-tired, but in a pleasant way. Until Mum and Helen came tomorrow, I could just float aimlessly, maybe stroll down to the beach or revisit Heather in my old job they’d been an occupational hazard. They weren’t all monsters but the only way to discern their true nature was to behave as if they worked in a preschool or a bookies. Never lunge and blurt that you loved their movie/album/whatever. If they were basically sound, they’d want to connect on a human level. But if praise was their thing, all the lauding in the universe wouldn’t be enough.
Vivian indicated me. “This is Anna Walsh. The woman who saved Kearney’s Farm.”
“Wait, now—” None of that was certain.
“I’ve heard,” Ben Mendoza said. “Good to meet you. Colm and Brigit are the best. In town for much longer?”
“Until Monday.”
He and Vivian exchanged a glance.
“I’m having a welcome-home dinner for Vivian tonight,” he said. “You must come.”
“Well, ah, thank you…”
“I’ll text you details,” Vivian said.
Did she have my number? Oh, what the hell, she was Vivian Hogan-Bancroft, someone would give it to her. All my plans suddenly abandoned, I hurried back to the hotel, looking for Courtney. She was on the desk, flanked by a receptionist I didn’t know.
“Courts!” I said. “I need you!”
“I’ve just had your mum on the phone,” Courtney said.
“Who?” Oh, her . “Any chance of a chat? Quick one.”
“Lyudmila?” Courtney spoke to her colleague.
“Go,” the woman said. “I’ll shout if there is a guest.”