Just outside the conference room door, I tried to dampen the fire that sizzled on my tongue. I was ready to do battle, but best not call my boss an incompetent arse for letting the whole case fall to shite. I tugged my jacket into place, smoothed my hair, and breathed deeply in and out. I tried a meditative chant that I knew would do feck all—“It’s all going to be fine”—and waited for peace to take over. I stood stock-still, felt nothing but annoyance, and tugged the door handle, muttering, “Fecking sheep-shaggers, they’ll rue the day they heard the name Marian Connolly.”
Stepping confidently into the conference room, I was surprised to find Paddrick O’Regan standing in a crowd, surrounded by almost every employee of the firm. A glass of golden bubbliness was passed my way by my friend Branna, O’Regan’s secretary. Once I had it in hand, everyone in the room shouted, “Sláinte!” A few whistles and a smattering of applause followed.
O’Regan stepped forward. “Ms. Connolly, the office of O’Regan…” I went deaf, which was generally the case when I got near the man. I felt like a twelve-year-old who’s come face-to-face with her first crush. O’Regan was more handsome than anyone I knew, Brit model David Gandy included, and looked mouthwatering in his black suit with fine gray stripes. His bright blue shirt made his blue eyes leap out at me. As I studied the way his black hair arced off his forehead, I realized he had quit speaking.
“Ballsch!” I squeaked, drawing assorted snorts and guffaws. “Sorry, I am so overwhelmed by all this that I didn’t catch a word.”
His response was devastating. He smiled broadly at my admission—his perfect smile, which would have derailed me a second time, except for my determination not to make an arse of myself. He repeated himself. “I was saying thank you from all of us at O’Regan and Aherne! Not only have you slayed a major dragon, you’ve restocked the company’s coffers. Consequently, we’re drinking real Champagne, and not some crap knock-off.”
Someone from the back called out, “How does it feel to be Ireland’s newest celebrity?”
Magda produced a copy of The Irish Times, where an article about the lawsuit graced the front page, along with a photo of me looking haggard with our client, Sean Sullivan. He was Ireland’s most well-known video gamer. He had taken on one of America’s most successful computer gaming companies, and we had won an intellectual property lawsuit.
When Sean had wandered into our office, I had known feck-all about gaming and gaming companies. Declan had proven helpful—he went out and bought the game, to show me what Sean was on about, and then found Sean’s channel on YouTube. “He’s one of the top gamers! He has almost thirty-five million subscribers.”
My jaw had dropped. “What? For sitting around on his arse, playing video games all day? I chose the wrong profession.” My opinion of him hadn’t completely changed over the course of the time I’d known him. He was an absolutely useless lay-about. I still couldn’t figure out if it was balls or stupidity that had made him think he’d stood a fighting chance against an American corporation.
When O’Regan finished, I audaciously announced as I raised my glass, “I’ll be signing photographs, once I’ve had a few of these. Fifty knicks a piece!” The party got underway. Bottles were passed around, glasses were refilled, and the quiet chatter rose to a thronging cacophony. People made their way over to congratulate me personally, which was kind of them, but I couldn’t hear a single word they said over the noise.
I spent a good hour pleasantly, drinking Champagne and shouting at people. I noted that the noise helped ease the tension I’d felt over the last two years. Or it might be the champers.
I was surprised when Paddrick O’Regan quieted the nearly drunken lot with a single shout.
“Oiy! Before you’re berco, I have two more announcements to make, then back to work.”
Handsome, but a killjoy. Everyone knows you don’t start the day off with alcohol, if you expect people to work.
He waited a moment and kept his bellow up. “First of all, the firm will be naming a new partner shortly.”
Whoa! That got everyone’s attention.
I held my breath and watched him carefully survey the room. There were only three possibilities from within the firm. Malachi Butler and Daire Walsh. Both looked over at the third person: me. I wasn’t going to be the weak link. I held their gazes firmly, knowing that my recent win was going to push me well ahead of either of them, despite their client lists and billing hours.
“The next announcement is more of a personal one. I will be taking an extended leave of absence.” There was a synchronized gasp from the masses, loud enough to cause him to pause. “Don’t get your hopes up. I’ll return in January and will be keeping my finger in the pot.” After a bit of tittering about his finger in pots, a blushing Paddrick announced, “Get back to work before you’re useless!”
As I started to teeter back to my office, Paddrick called to me, “Ms. Connolly, can you spare a few minutes?”
I might have been a bit tipsy when I flirtatiously responded, “Certainly. How shall I autograph the photo?”
“Sadly, it isn’t work-related.” Paddrick gave me a sardonic glance.
That stopped me in my tracks. Well, that and the alcohol. “What do you mean?” My heartbeat sped up.
He motioned for me to walk with him. I used the wood flooring to guide my feet, only wavering a few times. I thought about tripping on purpose, but didn’t want to risk him letting me fall in order to avoid a sexual harassment charge. Once safely inside his office, he shut his door (not worried about being alone with me) and offered me a seat in a cushy leather armchair. Then he utterly surprised me.
“I understand you’re friends with Hillary Cavendish.”
Puzzled, I nodded.
“I’m taking a leave of absence to deal with personal matters, and I was hoping to get in touch with her. No matter whom I ask, she’s the one to go to, apparently, when it comes to charitable concerns.”
“Um, well, yes. I suppose. To be honest, I don’t pay attention to most of what she’s saying.” Realizing how insensitive that sounded, I quickly added, “She’s involved with so many organizations that I can’t keep them straight.”
Nodding, he asked, “May I get her contact information from you?”
I scoured my memory. “I’ll email it to you. I must have it on my phone. Must do. She calls me every day.” He raised an eyebrow at this.
One corner of my mouth tugged upwards. “When friends with Hillary, one is either all in, or… not her friend.” I snickered at the truth of this comment. I stood, assuming our chat was at an end.
He rose to his feet and walked a few steps toward me with his hand outstretched. “Thank you. I’d be grateful. And, once again, well done.”
As I walked to my office, I flexed my hand and wondered if the electric shock that ran up my arm when we shook hands had been mutual. It was only much later that I thought about Declan. Not good.
Acknowledgments
WITH EACH BOOK, my village grows, and the number of people I need to thank gets longer!
There are no words to describe my gratitude to my husband Paul, who encourages me in all things. Then there are my children who, from time to time, must wonder where their mother disappears to and where the mad woman who takes over comes from! I know living with me can be like riding a roller coaster! I just hope it is exhilarating—akin to throwing your hands in the air and laughing as you embrace the crazy ride. Every day with you is an adventure, filled with the opportunity to grow and learn. Of all the things I have done or will ever do, witnessing your evolution is the most exciting.
To my childhood family, from my cozy corner in the car on our many road trips, where my attention was divided between the book I was reading and the world outside the window, I am grateful to have had you beside me through the highs and lows. We may be oceans apart, but I am often pulled back to memories of highways and bi-ways, and standing in front of monuments while Dad read every last word, and Mom wandered about, as the f
ive of us kids were who we were. In the end, we are all dreamers, creators, earth-bound and loyal. I am proud to be a part of our clan.
My sanity, book blurbs, cover critiques, highs and lows, and “what do you thinks” are somewhat buffered from my family and friends by the incredibly generous community I embrace daily on the Internet. You never know where you will meet your village—and while I don’t know what your voices sound like and haven’t met your loved ones, I hold you dear. I hope someday we have a massive book-signing party together and hear each other’s laughter. To the authors extraordinaire at Chick Lit Chat—you are indispensable. Tracie Banister welcomed me into the fold, and I am grateful for the support and laughter I’ve shared (mostly over my guffaws) with Whitney Dineen, Gina Calanni, Maggie LePage, Glynis Astie, Lindy Dale, Becky Monson, Meredith Schorr, Renee Conoulty, and TA Williams. Read their work! They are fabulous authors as well as amazing friends.
To old friends and new, without you I would still be chasing rainbows. To Victoria, Aimee, Thea, Carol, Diane, Kesem, Chandria, Nicole, Elizabeth, Tracy, and Jane, your unfailing support in (all) my endeavors over the years leaves me speechless. Fortunately, I can further express my gratitude when I write of the love and friendship that exists amongst the characters in The Passport Series.
To James, Annie, Tess, Candace, and Jalpa, whom I met at a time of great upheaval, you helped me remember that success and failure, deeply intertwined, can be faced with grace and enthusiasm.
To my readers, I am, of course, forever indebted to you. I found my path to authorship as a result of my love of reading. While I write for the pure pleasure of it, I feel giddy with excitement whenever I contemplate that my words could be transporting you to exciting places in the world, offering you a chance to live an alternate reality. I cherish your taking this journey with me.
I would also like to thank my dream team: Samantha March, Stephanie Konat, Kathryn Galán, Michelle Fairbanks, and Nicole Hewitt: I am forever indebted to you for your support, guidance, and hard work.
About the Author
CELIA KENNEDY was born on a military base in Wurzburg, Germany. Her parents’ penchant for traveling stuck with her: she’s lived in and traveled through several countries.
The imagined world has always fascinated Celia. She has studied art history, interior design, landscape architecture, and architecture. Her thirteen-year career at the University of Washington in Seattle ended in 1996. Not wanting to be homeless, she left the academic world and worked as a landscape architect, married the love of her life, became a mom, and served as PTA president and both Boy and Girl Scout leader.
Her love of travel, the designed and natural world, friendship, self-discovery, wine, chocolate, AND love are the foundation of her books.
Celia Kennedy’s other work includes:
Prosecco & Paparazzi, The Passport Series, Book One
Cognac & Couture, The Passport Series, Book Two
Venus Rising
Sugar, It’s Cold Outside – Cupid On the Loose, Valentine’s Day Anthology
April’s Fool – Fools Rush In, April Fool’s Day Anthology
Tears in the Rain – May the Fourth Anthology
Meri’s Over a Barrel – Girls of Summer Anthology
I’m Not Afraid – The Cat, the Crow and the Cauldron Anthology
She is currently working on book three in the Passport Series:
Gin Fizz and Grit.
***
To learn more about Celia Kennedy:
Website: www.CeliaKennedyBooks.com
Blog: www.womanreinventsself.blogspot.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/KennedyCelia
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CMKAuthor
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/Celia_Kennedy
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Celia-Kennedy
Cognac & Couture (The Passport Series Book 2) Page 32