Page 17 of Trying Sophie

Tucking all thoughts of pork aside, I watched him survey the street, and I got the impression he wanted to impress upon me that Ballycurra wasn’t as I remembered it. That it was better. That I wouldn’t be miserable here now.

“About two years ago some rich guys from Dublin took over that restaurant on the left—” he pointed to a double-fronted building that had recently been painted and had glowing Edison bulbs hanging in the windows “—and turned it into a place for a fancy night out. White tablecloths and everything.” He said this jokingly, as if no one in Ballycurra had ever eaten at a place with fancy linens. “It got a nice write-up in the paper and everything. Ever since, folks have been driving out here to eat and get some cocktails.”

It certainly looked like a place people would go for a special night. From the exterior alone, you could drop it down in any major metropolitan city in America or Western Europe and it’d be perfectly at home in its surroundings.

“And do you remember that big empty manor house just outside the village? The one all us kids swore was haunted?”

I didn’t, but that was mostly because the kids back then—he and his friends, I reminded myself—hadn’t bothered to include me in their shenanigans. And my grandparents sure as hell wouldn’t have told me about a supposedly haunted manse.

“Nope, can’t say that I do.”

“Oh, well. Some investors bought it and they’re turning it into a country house hotel and adding a world-class golf course on the land surrounding it. They’re saying the hotel will open by the end of the year, but I think it’s going to be a bit longer than that. Besides, who’d want to vacation in Ireland in winter?”

I may have forgotten plenty about the two years I’d spent here but the cold, wet winters weren’t one of them. You’d think having grown up in Pittsburgh, I’d have been immune to the temperature, but there was something about the constant damp that had left me cold for months on end. It seemed like for two full years I’d never worn clothes that had been completely dry. I knew that wasn’t actually true, but memories could be a funny thing.

“You won’t hear me argue with that,” I answered. “But I’m surprised someone would want to build a hotel out here. Seems a bit of overkill, doesn’t it, with not much in the way of tourism to support it?”

If there was one thing I knew it was the tourism industry and thinking back to the Ballycurra of my youth, all the village had to draw tourists was my grandparents’ pub and the live musicians who played there regularly. But it had been a number of years since they’d scaled back on their musical acts, which had reduced the number of tour buses that stopped in during their tours. And yes, the village was located on the coast which was usually a huge draw for tourism, but there wasn’t a beach to speak of as all the oceanfront property was taken up by walled-off houses that were occupied only part of the year by investors from during the Celtic Tiger era, not year-round residents who had a stake in the place. And with Dublin having its fair share of five star hotels, there really wasn’t a reason for tourists to book something so far removed. I decided it must be the golf course that would draw tourists. I knew next to nothing about golf, but a few guys I knew—one of my Newport cousins, included—were rabid about it.

Declan threw a quick, annoyed glance my way. Before I could apologize for insulting his precious home, he dragged his eyes back to the road and kept driving.

“Like I said, lots of things have changed. We’re not some backwater village anymore. Your family’s pub was the first tourist draw with its live music—some of the best in Dublin County, by the way—and things have grown from there. Believe it or not, people actually want to spend time in Ballycurra these days.”

Maybe he had a point, but it felt like he was pushing too hard to make it. So some people liked Ballycurra and went out of their way to spend time here? Hurrah for them. I’d come because my grandpa was sick and my grandma needed my help, not because I was thinking about settling down here. As soon as things were set to rights, I’d be on my way.

I kept quiet for the remainder of the drive and Declan quit pointing things out. After several tense moments he turned the car off the main road and drove down a narrow back alley before pulling to a stop in the large gravel parking area behind Fitzgerald’s Pub.

As I climbed out of the car, I noticed the building had a different look and feel about it than the others I’d seen lining the village’s main road. Whereas those all had fresh coats of paint and gleaming windows, the pub appeared weathered and worn down. Paint flaked off the upstairs windowsills and window boxes that I remembered holding bright red, pink, and white geraniums now sat empty, the wood containers faded from neglect. Up close I could see several areas where the stucco had flaked away.

When the car’s trunk closed behind me, I heard the crunch of gravel beneath Declan’s boots as he approached my side. Out of the corner of my eye I watched him survey the building as well.

“They told me they had help here?” I asked from between clenched teeth.

I was mad as hell but I didn’t know where to direct my ire. At my grandparents for hiding they were worse off than we knew? At my mom for not caring? Me for not checking in more regularly? All of us for all those reasons and more?

“They do Sophie, but some things need a bit more money and attention.”

“Why didn’t they tell me?” I asked, turning to face him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“And say what? ‘Hey Sophie, I know you don’t really know me, but it’s important I tell you your grandparents are struggling and they’re probably going to lose the pub if something drastic doesn’t happen soon.’ Yeah, I don’t think that’s my place.”

Much as I hated it, he was right. While I wanted to rail at him, tell him that it was his place to have said something, I recognized I was just reacting to the shock of seeing my grandparents’ business so run down. I was also adult enough to admit that had he said something, I would have taken issue with it. With him.

“Okay, fair point. I’m sorry for snapping at you. But tell me something now. How bad is it really?”

“Honestly?” he asked, and I worried maybe I didn’t really want to know. When I shook my head in the affirmative, Declan took a breath and answered. “The place is a mess Sophie. I’ve heard Maureen telling your mom about it while I was here visiting with your grandda, so I’m surprised you didn’t know. They’re not in danger of foreclosure or anything since they own the building outright, but the place is practically falling down around them and they don’t have the money to fix it.”

I ran my hands through my hair and let out a deep sigh. There it was, my mom again. When would that woman think of anyone but herself?

“Yeah, well, my mom and I don’t really talk about important things. If it’s not related to her country club or my half-brothers, we actually don’t talk much at all. Would you believe she didn’t tell me about his heart attack until three days ago?”

Declan dropped his eyes to his boots and that’s when it hit me he’d probably wondered what had taken me so long to get here. He must have thought I was such an unfeeling bitch for not coming sooner.

Confirming my suspicions, he said, “Yeah, I was kind of curious about that. I knew you were running all over the globe, but when your granny started making excuses for why no one was coming to help, I sort of figured you were like your mom and wanted nothing to do with them.”

“Oh god no!” I exclaimed, reaching out to grab his arm. “I came as soon as I could wrap up what I was doing. I left my friend without a house sitter and turned down a pretty major job to be here. And I would have been here sooner if I’d known. I swear.”

Declan looked at my hand clasped around his arm and then back up, his gaze heated. Touching him had seemed so natural, but now I was self-conscious about it and wondered how to pull away without that discomfort becoming obvious.

Before I could move, Declan put his hand over mine and squeezed, offering me an understanding smile.

“I believe you. And I know your grandma will be thrilled to have you.”

He dragged his hand away and ran it through his hair before halting at the back of his neck self-consciously. “Now let’s get you inside so you can say hello.”

That’s when the back door of the pub opened and clanged shut. My grandmother stood under the eaves, her arms splayed wide, with a giant smile on her face.

“Sophie!” the indomitable Maureen Fitzgerald exclaimed. “Come give your granny a kiss!”

I took one look at Declan, and when he shrugged and kicked his lips up into a small smile, I handed him my bag and ran straight into my grandmother’s waiting arms.

---