Love Like This

“You sound like Shane,” Keira replied. “If I don’t want to drink, dance, and be merry I don’t have to!”

She and Bryn finished up their conversation, and Keira found that in spite of all the noise coming from downstairs, she was hardly able to keep her eyes open. So she settled down under the thin cover and rested her head against the lumpy pillow. There was still no response from Zach to any of her humorous texts. She tried calling him but the phone just rang and rang.

She checked Instagram and saw photos of Zach at Ruth’s wedding. He was looking gorgeous in his suit, but his expression was so lonely. He seemed awkward standing there alone, and she felt bad not to be there with him. Maybe her mom had had a slight point. Turning up at weddings alone clearly was very embarrassing.

As she began to fall into slumber, Keira began dreaming that she was there at the wedding with Zach. Only it wasn’t Zach, it was Shane, shaved and in a sharp suit. He looked more handsome than she’d even anticipated.

Keira woke herself with a start. Things were already complicated enough without her developing a crush on her tour guide!

She pushed all the thoughts from her mind and, finally, fell into a deep sleep.

CHAPTER FOUR

“Did you sleep well?” Orin asked the second Keira descended the staircase early the next morning, emerging into the pub part of the B&B.

She rubbed her bleary eyes. “Yes, thanks.” The lie came so easily. Much better to pretend she loved her rickety bed, thin duvet, and lumpy pillows than to complain and have Orin fuss about it. She could write about it later, after all, and get some cathartic release that way.

“Take a seat and have some breakfast,” Orin said, leading her to a table and placing a coffee in front of her. It was swiftly followed by a bowl of oatmeal. He sat in the seat opposite. “I’ve made it the Irish way. I hope you like it.”

He was grinning rather widely.

“What’s the Irish way?” Keira murmured suspiciously.

She took a sip of the coffee and was surprised by how delicious it tasted. Whatever the Irish way was, it was good! Then she spooned some of her oatmeal into her mouth and almost cried out in delight. She’d never tasted anything so creamy, so utterly fantastic.

“Wow, what makes this taste so great?” Keira said, as she munched on another spoon of oatmeal. “Are the cows fed organic grass and milked by the hands of maidens?” she joked.

Orin’s grin grew wider. “Baileys in the coffee. And a splash of whiskey in the milk.”

Keira was shocked. “Liquor at eight a.m.?” she gasped. “Is that a good idea?”

Orin gave her a wink. “The best way to start the day. That and a brisk walk. Which you’ll get just as soon as I escort you to your meeting with William Barry, the head of the festival.”

Keira realized then that Orin was already ready to leave the B&B. He was wearing boots that reached halfway up his calves as if in anticipation of puddles. Or mud. Either way, Keira wasn’t in the mood for perambulating.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said. “I have SatNav in the car so I won’t get lost.”

Orin pointed at her coffee. “That’s not why I’m doing it.”

The cynical part of Keira’s mind wondered whether Orin had deliberately inebriated her in order to ensure she couldn’t refuse his offer of a walk. But she knew that was crazy thinking. Orin was just a gentle old man, proud of his town. He wanted to show it off to the cynical New Yorker he’d been lumped with.

“Come on,” Orin continued. “You’re here to get a real taste of Ireland! To live like a local! You won’t really know what our lives are like if you don’t walk a mile in our shoes!”

He yanked on her arm playfully, encouraging her to join him. His enthusiasm was quickly turning to cajoling and Keira realized there was literally no way of turning him down. Orin was going to make her walk to the meeting with him no matter what she said! There was no refusing.

Giving in, she downed the last of her boozy coffee, feeling the effects as soon as she stood. Then she and Orin left the dark B&B and emerged into the bright early morning sunshine. Even though the sky was a muted gray, Keira squinted against its harsh glare.

“Lead the way,” she said to Orin, as she glanced down the only path, a winding country road that snaked its way down the hillside. There were occasional buildings dotted on either side but it was mainly surrounded by lush green fields filled with sheep.

“It’s a two-mile walk to the town hall if we stick to the road,” Orin said. “But if we cut across the fields it’s half that distance. Of course, the farmer has every right to shoot us since we’d be trespassing but everyone around here knows everyone else so we’ll be fine.”

Keira gulped. “Let’s take the scenic route, huh?” she said.

“If you want,” Orin said nonchalantly, clearly not even picking up on her alarm.

They began strolling down the street. Despite the early hour, everyone they passed seemed so happy and friendly. When they reached the main street (if it could be called such) there was even a small troupe of musicians playing fiddles and accordions, singing old folk songs. People danced and sang along. Keira couldn’t really believe what she was seeing. How could a place be so collectively happy? Maybe she’d been wrong to make such harsh, snap judgments.

“Here we go,” Orin said as they arrived at their destination.

Like all the buildings in Lisdoonvarna this one was brightly painted, a burnt orange color in this case, adding to the rainbow streets. A sign above the door proclaimed: Home of the Matchmaker. The door itself was covered in images of cupid.

Keira raised an eyebrow at the tacky decor, then followed Orin inside. An elderly gentleman rose from his desk and came toward her.

“William Barry,” he said, extending a hand. “You’re the American reporter.”

Keira shook his hand. “I’m a travel writer, not a reporter.”

“So this piece isn’t going in the New York Times?” William asked, frowning.

Keira glanced appealingly at Orin. Had William been under the impression she worked for some huge organization? What if Heather had bent the truth a little as she’d organized this event, knowing that Josh would have been willing to lie and sweet talk his way to his goal?

Suddenly, Orin burst out laughing. Keira looked back at William. He was creased over with laughter as well.

“You should have seen the look on your face!” he exclaimed, his face turning bright red.

Keira wasn’t quite able to see the funny side. There was too much at stake for her with her first real assignment that teasing was not exactly welcome.

“Take a seat, take a seat,” William said as his laughter began subsiding.

Keira did, drawing up one of the wooden chairs and sitting at the desk. Orin sat beside her. Just as William sat down, a woman with fiery red hair entered holding a tray with a teapot, mugs, and a milk jug on it.

“This is my secretary, Maeve,” William said as the woman put the tray down. “Thanks, dear.”

She disappeared out of the room, leaving William to pour the cups of tea. It didn’t matter that Keira wasn’t much of a tea drinker, she felt unable to decline, and so she took the mug of steaming tea without protest.

William folded his hands across the table. “I must say we’re ever so excited to have you here, Keira. With the way the world is changing and all these Internet dating sites, it’s becoming harder and harder to get customers. I’m hoping your piece ignites some renewed interest.”

Keira covered her guilty expression with her tea mug. She felt bad knowing that she was going to write such a cutting piece. William and Orin seemed like sweet, genuine people, and they’d treated her with such hospitality. But she had her assignment, had her instructions. She told herself that bashing a silly festival from halfway around the globe in a magazine that didn’t even get imported to Ireland would hardly cause their business to fold.

“Do you know the history of the festival?” William continued.

“I did some research before I came,” Keira said, nodding.

But as William launched into his monologue about the festival, she shut her mouth. Clearly she was going to be given the aural history whether she liked it or not.

“It was my father’s business. His father’s before that. In fact, the Barrys have been matchmakers for as long as anyone can remember. Way back then it was about matching the nobles who were visiting for the water with a beautiful young local girl. Irish girls are considered very prolific child bearers, you see, which was a matchmaker’s main selling point.”

Keira could hardly stop the look of disgust on her face. William didn’t notice, however, and continued with his story.