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The coffee was ready so Sophie went to the kitchen and brought the pot and two fresh cups back with her. Before sitting back down she poured Keefe and herself a cup. Wanting to get to the grocery store quickly, Keefe downed his coffee and headed out the door.
Sophie, with her hot coffee in one hand and a cookie in the other, headed into the kitchen. Inside, she leaned against the newly delivered Bess, as Keefe had proudly christened her and looked around the kitchen. The pub was finally feeling like it had a purpose beyond being a never-ending renovation project. She smiled to herself, imagining the space filled with warmth, conversation, and the scent of whatever meal Keefe was about to prepare on Bess for their lunch.
A sharp knock at the front door made her jolt upright. Frowning, she wiped her hands on her jeans and headed over, glancing at the clock on the way. Keefe had only just left for the grocery store, and she wasn’t expecting any more deliveries.
She unlocked the door and pulled it open, bracing against the bite of cold air that rushed in. Standing on the doorstep was a man—not exactly tall, but broad-shouldered, and looking like he’d been personally assaulted by the elements. His dark coat was dusted with fine snow, and his wire-framed glasses were fogging up as he pushed them up the bridge of his nose. His hair, a mix of dark brown and windblown chaos, suggested he’d lost a fight with a particularly aggressive gust.
“Good morning to you,” he said with a nod, his breath visible in the frigid air. “I know this is well, probably not what you were expecting of course, but my bus broke down about half a mile down the road, and I’ve got a group of freezing tourists who could really use some shelter until the replacement bus arrives. Is there any chance we could come in?”
Chapter18
Sophie had just finished wipingdown the last table when the front door of the pub banged open, bringing with it a gust of chilly air and a cacophony of American voices.
“Here we go,” she muttered under her breath, as a horde of tourists poured inside, their faces a mixture of frustration and relief.
“Our bus broke down! Can you believe it?” an older man announced, tugging off his “Irish Goodbye Expert” hat and shaking out his overgrown hair. As if everyone didn’t already know the bus had broken down.
Now, if Sophie were a betting woman, she’d say the red-faced man did not know what an Irish Goodbye was. However, she wouldn’t be sorry in the least if he and the rest of the busload did an Irish Goodbye and turn right back around to leave.
Sophie tried to take a head count but there was just too much activity. There had to be nearly thirty of them, all shedding coats, grumbling, and shuffling toward the tables.
Sophie forced a smile. “Make yourselves comfortable, everybody,” she called out, her voice betraying the mild panic clawing at her chest. She had called Keefe, and he was getting groceries enough to feed everyone, but he was still at least thirty minutes away. And even then he would be chained to the stove. And unless she suddenly grew four extra arms, she was going to need help!
She didn’t want to call the family. Darcie was recovering well, and the twins were thriving, but Sophie couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d be pulling them away when they were needed elsewhere.
With a sigh, she pulled out her phone and dialed. It barely rang twice before Liam picked up. “Hello, love. Where are you? What’s all that din?”
Sophie turned away from the crowd and took refuge in the kitchen. “That’s the sound of me drowning. The pub’s just been invaded by a stranded tour group, and Keefe’s not back yet. I hate to ask, but?—”
“Say no more. Hold tight. I’m on my way, love.”
And just like that, her pulse steadied. Help was coming.
Sophie closed her eyes for a moment, then threw back what was left of the coffee in her cup and brewed a fresh pot. With the coffee going, she filled pitchers with water then arranged glasses onto a large serving tray. With an exhale she opened the kitchen door carrying the tray and nearly dropped it when the last face she expected to see in the world appeared in the crowd.
“Sophie, Sophie, Sophie!” cried Emma waving her arm in the air from the front doorway.
Sophie put the tray down on the end of the bar as Emma rushed to her friend’s open arms. “Emma? I don’t believe it! What are you doing here?”
“I was passing and saw the line outside, and thought I’d pop in and see what the craic was.”
“No, I mean, why aren’t you in London?”
Emma smiled excitedly. “Surprise! I’m moving back! I bought a house and everything!”
Sophie couldn’t believe it! Emma had been her best friend since they met at Derrynane beach at the age of eleven and if she weren’t drowning in tourists right now she would throw her hands in the air and do a dance but… “Are you busy?”
“No, I’m not, why do you ask?”
“Good. I’m swamped! Can you stay and help?”
“Of course! What’s happened? I didn’t think you were open yet.”
“We’re not. I’ll explain everything later.” Before getting back to the business at hand, she gave her friend another tight hug.
Sophie instructed Emma to pour the water into the glasses after setting them on the tables. Now, one might assume that simply pouring a glass of water for each guest would be a task so easy it could be done in their sleep. A task that might earn a small smile, maybe a casual ‘thank you for letting us invade your humble establishment. We’re so grateful not to be left out in the bitter Irish cold, freezing our asses off.’ But, of course, that’s not what Sophie got.
“Hey, you’re not Irish,” an American said.
