Chapter 45
Later, the Glen Arms restaurant glowed with soft amber light, candles on each table creating islands of warmth in the wood-paneled room.
Molly sat beside Jack at a quiet corner table while Patrick and Eddie sat across, their shared grief completely dissolved into the easy companionship of similar-aged men discovering unexpected common ground.
Outside, darkness had fully claimed Golden Valley, transforming the glass into mirrors that reflected their small gathering.
The table in front of them bore evidence of the community’s collective embrace: alongside the hotel’s offerings sat contributions that had arrived throughout the day.
Eva’s apple tart took pride of place, its golden crust draped perfectly above slices of Goldenridge apples, the edges crimped in the way Aoife had pressed into countless crusts in their Brooklyn kitchen.
A wheel of local cheese wrapped in waxed cloth bore a note from the woman whose stand Molly had visited at the market. Maurice from Carved Oak Butchers had insisted on the hotel using his signature oak-smoked bacon for tomorrow’s breakfast, ‘so the New York fireman can taste proper rashers.’
Brid supervised the supper arrangement herself, adding sprigs of late-blooming heather in small crystal vases on the table, her previous interference giving way to genuine warmth as she’d squeezed Molly’s hand before retreating again to the kitchen.
‘To Aoife,’ Eddie boomed, raising his glass of cider. The amber liquid caught the light as the others lifted their glasses to join the toast.
‘She would have been pleased, I think,’ Patrick said after a moment, his wizened fingers tracing the rim of his glass. ‘The oak looking its best in that light, the breeze carrying her across the golden vale.’
Eddie nodded. ‘That woman always had a sense for just the right moment, the right place.’ His gaze moved to Molly with evident pride.
‘Kinda like our girl here, making sure her wishes were honored, no matter how many stubborn obstacles stood in her way.’ He looked pointedly at Jack, whose chuckle broke the solemnity, his shoulder bumping gently against Molly’s.
‘I’ve already apologized for that, haven’t I?’
‘Three times today alone,’ she confirmed, warmth spreading through Molly’s chest at the easy affection they’d already established.
‘Make it four so,’ he said, turning slightly to face her. ‘I’m sorry for being the most suspicious, stubborn eejit in the country.’
‘That fella apologizing? News to me,’ Patrick quipped, his eyes twinkling.
‘Speaking of news …’ Jack’s expression shone bright as he addressed the table. ‘The bank has officially approved our loan.’
Molly’s eyebrows rose in delight. ‘That’s amazing! When did you hear?’
‘I got a text Saturday morning,’ Jack admitted, his hand finding hers beneath the table. ‘Right before I …’ He hesitated, a flush coloring his neck. ‘Right before I jumped to all the wrong conclusions. I was about to tell you the good news, but then I just wouldn’t please you.’
Molly smiled at the phrase, a classic she’d heard Eva utter a few times, summing up the almost comical obstinateness that was inherent among Tipp people.
‘The full amount and everything?’ Patrick pressed, his eyes filled with cautious hope.
Jack nodded, smile widening. ‘Every penny. They were delighted with the projections. We can repair the north barn, upgrade the pressing equipment, and still have enough for those new heritage saplings we talked about.’ He inclined his head toward Molly and winked.
‘Though after this one’s viral video, we might need to consider a visitors’ center next. ’
‘It’s really made that much of an impact?’ Eddie asked, glancing between them.
‘Let’s just say the village committee, led by Brid, Eva from the café, and the boys from Hearthland of course, are already planning a bronze statue in the square to honor Molly’s heartfelt tribute to Golden Valley,’ Jack joked, though his eyes conveyed sincere gratitude. ‘You really did put us all on the map.’
Molly felt her cheeks warm at the praise. ‘I just showed what was already there,’ she demurred. ‘Everything that makes this place special.’
Patrick patted her hand and looked proudly at his great-nephew. ‘Like I always told Jack, sometimes it takes an outsider’s eyes to help see the value in what we’ve always taken for granted.’
The hotel staff appeared with their main courses; venison for Patrick and Jack, salmon for Molly, and traditional Irish stew for Eddie, who had insisted on experiencing ‘the real thing, not that watered-down crap they serve in the Irish pubs back home.’
The rich aromas mingled with the scent of fresh bread and Kerrygold, creating a sensory celebration just as satisfying as the gathering.
‘Oh man,’ Eddie groaned as he tasted his first bite of stew. ‘Mols, how can we ever go back to New York food after this?’
‘Actually …’ Grasping at the opening, Molly gathered her courage to raise something she’d been considering for the past few days, but had decided for certain earlier at the oak tree, when everything had suddenly aligned with crystalline clarity.
‘I’ve made a decision,’ she said, setting down her fork and straightening slightly in her chair.
‘I’m going to take some extended leave from my job. ’
Three pairs of eyes fixed on her with varying degrees of surprise. Eddie recovered first, his expression shifting to understanding as he nodded encouragingly.
‘I’ve accumulated months of vacation time anyway,’ she continued, her gaze moving between them.
‘And can easily sublet my apartment for income. It’s just …
after today … well, there are important connections here I’m not quite ready to walk away from.
’ Her eyes lingered on Patrick, whose lined face had softened with evident emotion.
‘I’ve just found a grandfather I never knew existed.
There’s history here I’ve barely even begun to uncover. ’
‘You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, pet,’ Patrick said, his voice gruff with feeling. ‘The old holiday cottage on the western edge of the orchard has stood empty too long.’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t dream of …’ Molly began, but Patrick waved away her response.
‘It’s yours by right,’ he insisted. ‘Would have been your mother’s someday anyway. Now it can be yours whenever you want it. A home away from home as it were. I’m sure Jack won’t mind helping clean it up for you.’
The offer – so casually made but so profound in its implications – momentarily robbed Molly of words.
A home … here in Golden Valley.
Jack’s hand tightened around hers beneath the table, a silent affirmation.
‘And there’s this guy, of course,’ Eddie piped up with the direct pragmatism that had always characterized his approach to life.
His blue eyes twinkled as they shifted between his granddaughter and the orchard keeper.
‘Don’t think any of us have missed those looks you two have been exchanging all day. ’
‘Pop!’ Molly protested, though she couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips.
‘What?’ Eddie spread his hands innocently.
‘I’m old, sweetheart, not blind. And I’ve seen that expression before – on your nan’s face when she first looked at me across a room.
’ He turned to Jack, his gaze sharpening slightly in assessment.
‘You’ll take care of her, buddy.’ It was a statement not a question.
Jack met the older man’s eyes without hesitation. ‘With everything I have,’ he promised, the simple words carrying the weight of absolute sincerity.
‘Jaysus,’ Patrick’s soft chuckle broke the moment of intensity. ‘Look at us,’ he said, gesturing around the table. ‘Four strangers a month ago, family now.’ He raised his glass again. ‘To unexpected blessings.’
‘And family,’ Eddie amended, lifting his own glass to meet Patrick’s.
‘And new beginnings,’ Jack added, his voice low and meant primarily for Molly.
She raised her glass, meeting each of their gazes in turn – Pops with his lifetime of steady support, Patrick with his newfound place in her heart, Jack with his promise of something wonderful and unexpected.
‘To Nan,’ she said simply, her voice steady despite the emotion swelling in her chest. ‘For making it all possible.’
Through the windows, Golden Valley spread in nighttime splendor; the lake a black mirror reflecting scattered stars, barley fields swaying in gentle rhythms against the evening breeze, the distant silhouette of the oak above the orchard a darker shadow against the night sky.
Molly felt Jack’s thumb trace a gentle pattern against her palm, the small gesture communicating more than words could express.
‘When will you tell your boss?’ he asked quietly, his dark eyes serious in the candlelight.
‘I actually called him this afternoon,’ Molly admitted. ‘He wasn’t thrilled, but believe it or not, the Goldenridge video reached them too, so they’re viewing it more as a sabbatical to “explore alternate creative approaches”.’
Jack’s smile was slow and warm. ‘And is that what you’ll be doing? Exploring alternate approaches?’
‘You could call it that,’ she replied, holding his gaze with newfound certainty. The past two weeks had transformed her in ways she was only beginning to understand – not just in finding family and roots, but in rediscovering parts of herself that New York’s pace and pressure had gradually buried.
‘I’m glad,’ Jack said simply. ‘I really wasn’t looking forward to saying goodbye.’
‘Neither was I,’ she admitted. ‘Even before our … misunderstanding, I was reluctant to leave Golden Valley.’ Her fingers tightened around his. ‘Leave you.’
The admission – honest and unconditional – hung between them. Jack’s eyes softened, the usual guardedness now completely absent as he looked at her. ‘The orchard has always been my anchor,’ he said quietly. ‘But you’ve helped me see it doesn’t have to be my boundary.’
Brid reappeared at their table then, her silver-streaked hair elegantly coiffed, her manner brisk yet warmly familiar. ‘Will ye be having dessert?’ she asked, her gaze lingering significantly on their linked hands beneath the table.
‘Definitely,’ Eddie replied, his appreciation for food undiminished by the day’s emotional intensity. ‘Some of that apple tart please. And coffee, if you have it.’
‘Of course, pet,’ Brid assured him with a fondness that made Molly suspect her grandfather had already thoroughly charmed the hotel proprietor during the short time they’d known each other. ‘I’ll bring it with some custard.’
As Brid departed, Patrick leaned back in his chair, his expression more relaxed than Molly had yet seen it. The lines of his face seemed less pronounced, as if some long-carried tension had finally eased.
‘It’s mad,’ he said, his gaze moving between them. ‘I’ve spent decades wondering what became of Aoife, imagining all the paths her life might have taken.’ He nodded toward Molly and Jack. ‘I’m only delighted those paths led to good places.’
‘Full circle,’ Eddie agreed, his face softening as he winked at Molly. ‘She’d appreciate that, too. Aoife always did like to finish things properly.’