Page 12 of Arse Over Irish Teacup
“But there’s nothing I want to do.”
“What about going to Ireland? You’ve always wanted to do that and remember Gram left it all to you. You could stay as long as two or even three months.”
“But, you’re suggesting I practically move there.”
“No, I’m not. Just an extended vacation. You could drive around, stay wherever you want for as long as you like. Think of the freedom you would have. We can make it open-ended so that you can come home whenever you’re ready.” Lauren saw a spark in Beth’s eyes so she continued. “Come on. Maybe you will find a hot Irishman with sparkling blue eyes? And you could find the places from your book. How romantic would that be if you met someone and went to see one of those places?”
Sold! One ticket to Ireland, please. No return date.
“What am I going to do without you in Ireland?”
“You’ll be just fine. And you never know, I might visit.”
“Do you ever think I’ll find what you and Alan have?” Lauren and Alan were the happiest couple Beth had known. Sure, they fought, but they fought and made up as a team. Alan adored her and his children.
“Let’s ask the cards!” Perfect. This couldn’t have worked out better!
Lauren skipped away to fetch her trusty tarot cards. She sat on the floor on the opposite side from Beth and handed them over for Beth to shuffle.
“I want to know if that low-life cockhead is still whining from the bottom of that grave! If there were any justice in this world, zombies would be real and Danny would be their dinner right now.”
Lauren began the reading making up meanings to the cards, saying Beth needs a change. “And lookee there, Captain Hook and Smee agree!” Lauren flipped up another card, didn’t care for it so pulled another. “I still cannot believe you fell into a grave.”
“I know.”
“I mean, a grave. Beth, that’s got to be the worst ever.”
“Is this supposed to make me feel better?”
“Sorry. You know, I think he actually peed his pants.”
“No way!”
“I swear I saw a wet spot on his pants just before you pulled me away.”
“How many boys does this make that you’ve made cry?”
“Eight?”
“No, eight was the bag boy last Thanksgiving,” Beth said as she popped a chocolate in her mouth. “Remember? You nearly threw a whole turkey at him.”
“Don’t look at me like that. He put the turkey on top of the bread. What sort of idiot does that? I did that potato-head a favor, yelling at him. How else was he going to snap out of it?”
Beth stared at the white sandy beach pictured on the television. It did look inviting. “But I can’t just up and go to Ireland.”
“Why not? Who’s stopping you?”
“Nobody.”
“That’s right, so quit yakking and start packing.”
ChapterSeven
“Cripes, Beth!”Lauren strained to catch a breath after heaving the red suitcase down the sidewalk to the car. “Why didn’t we think to go shopping for luggage?” she bent over resting her hands on her knees.
“Do they still have helpers at the airport?”
“Helpers? Are you kidding me? I forget sometimes how long it’s been since you’ve really been anywhere.”
