Page 2 of Quiet Longing

Her accent was lovely. Since my mother was Irish and never really lost her accent, I was used to hearing it—and doing a few impressions of it when Mom got on my nerves. Yes, I inherited the smartass gene from my dad. Anyway, Mom’s strict tones weren’t as pleasing to listen to as Nuala’s lyrical laughter.

“Can you drive? I bet you can. All Americans get cars when they’re, like, sixteen, right?”

I chuckled. “I can drive. I’ve never owned my own car, though. My mom lets me drive hers sometimes when she’s feeling generous, which isn’t very often.”

“Ah, right, your mother. Is she as much of a wagon as my parents say she is?”

I shot her a confused look. “Wagon?”

“Um, kind of difficult to deal with, you know, like a, a—”

“A bitch?” I supplied, and she winced, looking apologetic.

“I mean, well, I wouldn’t put it quite so bluntly.”

“She can be challenging, so yes, I suppose you could call her a wagon, but she’s all heart underneath, I promise.”

Frowning, I considered what Nuala said, feeling a little defensive. I was allowed to complain about Mom because she wasmy mom. I didn’t like the thought of other people being rude about her. Maybe this trip was a bad idea. “Your parents said that?”

Nuala’s eyes widened. “Oh, no! I mean, well, yes, Dad called her a wagon, but in a loving way. He didn’t mean any harm by it. He just thinks she’s stubborn. I know he cares for her a lot even though they had that big fight.”

“Yeah,” I said, somewhat assuaged. “Did he ever tell you what that was all about?”

“Nope. Did your mother tell you?”

I shook my head.

Nuala sighed. “It’s like some highly guarded secret. Anyway, let’s not let our parents’ drama get in the way of us being friends.” She linked her arm through mine as we entered the pickup zone. Nuala led me straight to a shiny black Range Rover, and my eyes bugged. I knew my uncle was loaded, but it was different seeing it in person. It made me wonder what their house was going to be like. I’d grown up in a small two-bed townhouse, so I suspected my uncle’s place would be a lot more luxurious than that.

The driver, Stephen, was a middle-aged man with ginger hair and a medium build. He took my suitcase from Nuala and gave me a polite nod.

“Charlotte, I take it?”

“That’s me, but you can call me Charli.”

“I’m Stephen. Pleasure to meet you,” he said and shook my hand. “Welcome to Dublin. I hope you had a pleasant flight.”

I resisted the urge to grimace. “It was … tolerable.”

Stephen chuckled. “Well, let’s hope the rest of your summer is better than tolerable.”

Nuala and I climbed in the back while Stephen returned to the driver’s seat. I put on my seatbelt, and we were off. I was immediately struck by the fact that we were driving on the opposite side of the road, which was going to take some getting used to. There wasn’t much to see at first, just a boring highway, but as we reached the seaside town of Malahide where my cousins lived, I started to see what all the fuss was about.

We sailed along a coastal road, the sky beginning to darken, and I stared out at the glittering water and sandy shore. Already, I couldn’t wait to go for long walks on the strand. The houses were so different from back home, the village streets lined with small cottages and cute little storefronts. I visualised myself strolling by on the long summer evenings, hanging out with Nuala and possibly flirting with some local Irish boys.

A fizzle of excitement filled my belly.

When we reached Nuala’s street, I noticed every house washuge. They were all different, though. One house was a period mansion, and the next was an ultra-modern build.

Nuala’s house fell into the latter category. It was two-storied with a long driveway, high walls surrounding the front of the property, a sleek iron gate, and large windows that went from floor to ceiling. Another SUV was parked out front, as well as a smaller sports car.

“My dad’s probably still at work, but Mam should be home. Oh, and my brothers will be around somewhere, too. You’re going to be shocked when you see how much they’ve changed. Derek is even taller than Dad now.”

I nodded and grabbed my backpack before following her from the car. I went to get my suitcase, too, but Stephen waved me away, saying he’d bring it inside for me. Nuala grabbed my hand and led me into the house. The front door was huge, with glass windows on either side. We stepped into a spacious, elegant entryway, and I was absorbed in taking it all in. I knew the Balfes were rich, but I hadn’t been expecting this. It was like walking into a house you’d see in an interior design magazine.

“Come on,” Nuala said. “I’ll give you a quick tour.”

I let her lead me into a huge living room filled with family photos and soft, cosy furnishings. One photo caught my attention. It showed Nuala and her two brothers, and she was right when she’d mentioned how much they’d changed. They didn’t look like the boys I remembered. Now, they were practically grown men.

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