Page 32 of After Indigo Irish Nights
Bells on…
Bets took another sip of tea before she remembered it was cold, ideas spinning in her head.
They were going international. She could feel it. They’d talked about bringing in new artists and tourists with Kathleen’s sculpture and Ellie’s stained glass window. They hadn’t talked about enrolling students from around the world. She started rocking in her chair in delight. Hell, she wanted to grab a boa and turn on Bon Jovi.
She knew just who she needed to talk to.
Picking up her phone, she called Linc.
“Do you know what time it is, Bets?” he barked, his voice sleep-roughened.
“Shit.” It was barely three o’clock in the morning in Oklahoma, she realized as she glanced at the clock. “I got too excited and forgot to check the time. Go back to sleep.”
She heard a rustling and then a giant yawn. “No, I’m up. Never have been one to fall back asleep after sudden awakenings. What’s got you so excited? Because you wouldn’t be calling me if it was Donal.”
“If you knew how not funny that was at the moment, you wouldn’t joke.” She rushed on. “I got an email from a woman in San Francisco who wants to take one of Angie’s painting classes. She mentioned her friends might also be interested if we had something shorter in duration than the three-month class. We have a whole new group to cater to, Linc. International students.”
“But you have nowhere to put these people other than your two doll-sized cottages, Bets,” he said with a sigh. “We need a hotel. I’ve been thinking about this.”
“A hotel?” She opened and closed her mouth. “I hadn’t—”
“Don’t you remember me saying you were thinking too small?” He chuckled before yawning again. “Bets, the center just got a shit-ton of money. You’ve had artists emailing right and left about grabbing a residency. The Sorcha Fitzgerald Arts Center in Podunk, Ireland, is now on the map.”
“Podunk, Ireland.” She laughed. “That’s a good one.”
“Apt. Pretty soon, you’re going to need a museum too, for all this art these resident artists are going to create.”
A museum?She put her hand to her forehead. Yes, she supposed they would. Many arts centers required a resident to leave behind one or two artistic works. To think about having art like that a mere five minutes from her house… “That would be heaven.”
“On that we might disagree, but it’s going to be easier than the hotel—less overhead and management. I have some ideas on that too, ones I was planning to run by you and the board after I finish up the last of my own retirement business on this side of the pond.”
She wasn’t going to think about details right now. She was going to daydream a little. A museum. A hotel. “When are you coming back to Podunk, Ireland?”
“I was hoping to leave Podunk, Oklahoma, after all this boxing madness died down. Do you know they asked me to join in?”
“I thought they might. What did you say?”
“I said, ‘Thanks but hell no.’ The stone-throwing video Eoghan sent me terrified me so much I almost dropped my phone in my hot tub. The Irish like a little brutality, don’t they?”
She’d heard about Eoghan throwing rocks at Declan in the hopes the stories of his testosterone-laden training would spread across the county. Knowing Ireland, it would work. “I suppose. Throwing rocks at someone isn’t what I’d called peace-loving.”
“Not too hot on the boxing, eh?” He paused—way too long. “Doesn’t it fall under your definition of a hobby?”
She scowled. “Of course it does.”
Another pause, this one ripe with curiosity. “Anything you need to talk about, sugar?”
“Not on your life. Just get your ass back here. We have things to do.”
“The planning permission is going to be a bitch,” Linc said with a grunt. “The hotel will be the worst. I’ve invested in them before, and it’s a painful process unless it comes with a casino.”
She sputtered out a laugh at his long-suffering drawl. “The Irish like to gamble.”
“I’m not kidding, Bets. I’m thinking you need the place to have a golf course too, but Jesus, it’s going to be a slog. I’m not sure it’s financially viable. Sometimes when you bring in a famous chef, you can draw visitors in that way too, but I don’t think that’s going to work in your neck of the woods.”
Right. Podunk, Ireland. “A famous chef?” She sat back in her chair. “You’re pulling my leg, cowboy.”
“I am not. Bets, we need to think about what will bring both local and international interest. From what my research says, most tourists come to Ireland and drive from one place to the next, mostly along the ring of Kerry. People usually only stay in Dublin for three or four nights, and that’s pushing it. That’s a problem for us.”
