Page 24 of Not Just a Trick Play

“What kind of work?”

“At this point, I’ll take anything.”

“Are you able to stay here? No visa issues?” Helena checks, in lawyer-mode.

“My father was from the US but spent time in the UK, where I was born and raised.”

“So, you’re part American?” Carla asks.

I incline my head. “I even lived in Savannah. Moved there with my dad after my parents divorced—that’s where he was from. But I was there less than a year before…um, he passed away. So back over the pond I went to my gran.”

“What about your mother?”

“Um, Mum wasn’t ready for me to return, so Gran had the pleasure.” I smile brightly so she doesn’t think it’s a big thing.

Jeanine takes another sip of her wine. “What kind of work did you do in England?”

“I worked at my Gran’s inn.”

“That must have been interesting. What did you do?”

“A bit of everything, really. I handled reservations and social media, made beds, waitressed. Washed dishes on occasion when the dishwasher broke down. But that happened more often than not. Which meant I was dishwashing rather often. Often enough that it could have warranted a full-time dishwasher…” I trail off.

Jake looks at me. “And you lived with your grandmother. At her inn.”

Wait, is this tanker of wanker suggesting that my living with Gran is the equivalent of him sponging off his mother? He smirks. Apparently, he is. Of all the nerve. “It was my place of work. I was there in a professional capacity.”

Jeanine takes my measure. “Did you enjoy working there?”

I open my mouth, ready to respond in the affirmative because it’s the answer I’ve always given. But…there are no expectations here. “It was all right, I suppose.” I start off slowly. “What I enjoyed the most about the work was putting together itineraries for the guests.”

“Was there a lot to see where you’re from? I love that England has so much history,” Helena says.

“There was. I loved personalizing plans for people. Sometimes I’d have to figure things out for newlyweds, other times for young families with children who’d easily tire, or would need activities to keep them occupied while their parents roamed. There were tours I put together for the history buffs and others more focused on nature—hikes and gardens. Many, many pub crawls. And of course, I’d alter them with the forecast. I had suggestions for rainy days and sunny spells, though it was mostly the wet weather ones that were the most popular. Possibly on account of it raining most of the time…”

I cut myself off, realizing I’m rambling again, and skim the room, prepared for glazed expressions. Instead, the entire Cunningham contingent listens, rapt, as if I’m imparting pearls of wisdom.

“Do you have any photos?” Carla asks.

“Of course!” I open up my Instagram account and hand over the phone. “Feel free to swipe through.”

The family crowds around, oohing and ahhing as they scroll through.

“Oh, who’s this guy with you? He’s a cutie. Boyfriend?” She flips the device, and my heart sinks. It’s a picture of Ben and me in front of The Church of St. Mary the Virgin. I should have taken a lesson from her and hung on to mine for a bit longer.

But since that ship’s sailed, I come up with what I hope is a blasé, “No one,” I mutter.

“Ex?” Jake asks, taking the phone from his mum. “Let’s have a look at this strapping young gentleman.” He squints at the screen, not seeming all that impressed. To be fair, I don’t get the appeal now, either.

I snatch it back. I really need to purge my social media of the Ben photos. Or maybe move them to a hidden folder. There are some great shots of various sights and tours I did, which I don’t want to lose. Too bad he’s ruined them.

All of this could have been avoided if I’d tackled my hymen-sized issue by going further afield. Or taking up one of the local volunteers. Robby Whitley had offered to “help” relieve me of my virginity as a favor, but given that he was married to Cecily Mason, the town florist at the time, I’d had to refuse.

Helena’s phone beeps, and she glances at it before thumping the device against her forehead. “Ugh. Marcus’s saying Jerry fell asleep while they were working on his math problems, and he wants me to help instead of waking Daddy up. Apparently, he sucks at homework.”

Jeanine shakes her head. “Children, so damned inconvenient sometimes.”

“Seriously.” Helena lifts her drink in agreement.

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