Page 22 of The Calendar of New Beginnings
“So do I. Look, I need to run. Literally. Matt is meeting me for a run through the park on my lunch hour. I need to finish up some more paperwork before I go.”
“Have a great run. See you at five thirty.”
After all her time away, darn it if he didn’t like the sound of that. “Make sure to wear open-toed shoes so I can admire your nail polish,” he joked.
“I’m going to kill you, Andy Cakes,” she said in a darkvoice. “As revenge, I’m going to come up with an even more colorful description of the plan our mothers have cooked up.”
“Do your best. Later, alligator.”
“After a while, crocodile,” she finished and hung up.
Sitting back in his chair, he wondered again what Ellen and his mother had planned.
Truth be told, it really didn’t matter. Nothing could dim his joy that Lucy O’Brien was back in town.
CHAPTER SIX
By the time Lucy drove down Main Street later that afternoon to meet Andy, she had lost one skirmish and won a much larger battle. While her toenails were a glittery pink, she had a new place to hang her hat while she was in Dare Valley.
After seeing four rental properties, she’d selected a quaint cottage up in the mountains surrounded by lush trees and craggy rock walls. The owner, Mrs. Weidman, an eccentric elderly woman who’d moved in with her son for health reasons, had described her place as a tad too old-fashioned for students at Emmits Merriam. Lucy remembered seeing her at some town functions growing up, but she’d never really known the family.
The house was a decided change from all of the blank, white-wall spaces she’d occupied while traveling overseas. Fully furnished with a Victorian couch—her mother had described it as mustard-colored, but to her it had looked brownish—in the lavender parlor and a brass bed in the light-pink master bedroom, it suited Lucy perfectly. The second bedroom, painted a light blue, would be her homeoffice. In the small cottage, Lucy felt like she was inside a cupcake.
After dropping her mother off at the house for a power-walking date with April, Lucy drove to her father’s bar. Dare Valley’s stores seemed more prosperous than ever, what with the fresh paint, power-washed brick, and shining windows. People mingled on the street, running errands and sharing gossip. Parking was a pain, so she ended up choosing a spot three blocks away. She almost laughed at herself for being annoyed—parking spaces and paved roads were luxuries in many parts of the world, but it was funny how quickly a person started to take them for granted.
She walked down Main Street to Hairy’s. Growing up, this bar had been her second home. She traced the green sign on the door announcing that an Irish band called Maddie’s Shillelagh would be playing this Saturday. The door chimed an Irish jig when she opened it.
The hardwood floors, dark mahogany bar, and carved bench seats made her think of the pubs she’d crawled through in Dublin on past vacations. The smell of strong stout and freshly fried fish and chips teased her nose. She could no longer distinguish between the two shades of green on the walls—lime and Kelly—but before she had time to stew over it, a familiar voice called out her name.
Her dad strode toward her in jeans and a black T-shirt with a green logo that read “Irish Superhero.”
“Hey everybody! My daughter is back from saving the world!” He grabbed her shoulders and kissed her cheek as the small crowd of regulars cheered from their posts all around the bar. “Welcome home, sweet girl.”
She gave him a bright smile. “I was just thinking about all the afternoons I did my homework here.”
He grinned back, the laugh lines around his mouthdeepening. “Pretty much whenever your mother was taking some class or another.”
Yeah, her mother had tried everything from stained glass to wicker furniture making. Of course, Lucy had also gone over to Andy’s house a lot too. Maybe that was why she had the ability to feel at home anywhere—she’d started living a vagabond existence at a young age.
“I’ve missed this place, Dad,” she said, leaning her head against his shoulder after he situated her on a bar stool in the corner. “I’ve been to lots of pubs around the world, but there’s no place to match yours.”
He kissed her temple before walking around to the back of the bar. “You’re partial, but I’ll take the praise. Your mother has been busting my balls for not talking you out of renting Eustace Weidman’s cottage.”
Eustace was that eighty-seven-year-old lady’s first name? She winced. “News travels fast.” Not that she was surprised. Her mother had insisted on accompanying her on what she’d described as “rental shopping,” and she’d carped all the while about how Lucy should stay at home. “I need my own space, Dad. Surely you understand.”
“I know it,” he said, building a Guinness for her. “You’re like me that way. Now, your mother. She doesn’t understand the concept of personal space, God love her.”
Lucy’s heart swelled as she stroked the bar’s wood grain. “You planning on drinking with me? It’s my first beer in your place in some time.”
He beamed as brightly as his bald head shone under the lights. “How could I refuse?”
After pouring himself a Guinness, he lifted his glass to hers. “Slainte.”
“Slainte,” she repeated and took a sip. The foam tickledher lips and the dark brew coated her tongue. “Mmm. Delicious.”
He wiped the foam from his mouth with the back of his hand. “Nothing like mother’s milk, as they say in the old country. Should I ask to see your new toes?”
She shuddered playfully. “Don’t encourage Mom. I decided to pick my battles.”
