Proper Irish (Jaded Lily #1)

by Zeia Jameson

  “I thought I’d find you here.” I hear Padraig’s voice, and it startles me a little. I’m lying on the edge of the fountain, allowing the sun to cascade over my face. I don’t know how long I’ve been here, but I do know that the brightness of the sky is fading into colors of red and orange. I sit up, shading my eyes with my hand while looking Padraig’s way.

  “Here I am,” I say flatly.

  He comes to sit next to me. “How are you?”

  I nod. “I’m okay.”

  He touches the top of my cheek, chasing the stain of tears that runs from my eyes to my neck. “Kerry came to the shop. She said she thought it was going to be bad.”

  “It was,” I sniff.

  He reaches his arm around and pulls me into a side hug, kissing the top of my head. “Come on, let’s get you home. Kerry is bringing you dinner and board games. And tequila.”

  I chuckle. “She knows how to bring it. Are you going to stay for dinner and board games?”

  Padraig nods. “She’s bringing Luca, too. Seems they have taken a liking to one another.”

  “I figured as much.”

  Padraig takes my hand and brings me to stand. He kisses me softly.

  “Care for a rose for the beautiful lady today, Padraig?” a woman with a basket asks, standing behind Padraig. It’s not Sally.

  “Absolutely.” She hands him a palm leaf rose from her basket, with a big smile. He pulls out his wallet, plucks from it all of the cash he has, and hands it to her. “Here you go, Nell. Give that little Molly of yours a kiss for me, yes?” Nell places the money into a bag hanging at her hip, the strap dangling diagonally over her chest. She extends her hand, covered in ragged fingerless cotton gloves, to him for a shake.

  “I will. Thank you, Padraig.” Padraig takes her hand and pulls her into a hug. God damn this man. My heart swells, and for a moment, my worries dissipate. Padraig takes my hand and begins walking.

  “Have a great night, Padraig. Padraig’s lady friend,” Nell says as we begin to walk away. I stop, release Padraig’s hand, and give Nell a tight hug.

  “Thank you, Nell. My name is Stella. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Likewise, Stella.” She looks over to Padraig and winks. He winks back. I take Padraig’s hand again, and we make our way to my apartment.

  “Ha! I win!” Kerry exclaims, raising her hand to me for a high five. I don’t leave her hanging as I reach across the board and connect my hand to hers. The game she chose tonight was Life. She said it was fitting. I didn’t disagree.

  Kerry’s parents have a rec room full of board games in their Isle of Hope home. We try to have a regular game night to rave in the hilarity of some of the old ’80s games they still hold on to.

  Luca nudges Kerry’s shoulder just slightly. “I think you cheated.” Padraig laughs, “You always think everyone cheats when you lose.”

  “Not true,” he denies.

  “I bet Denny from poker night would disagree.”

  Luca shrugs, and Kerry gives him a light tap on the knee. Their attraction is subtle, but it’s definitely there.

  Luca and Kerry brought sacks full of fried seafood and fries from Barkley’s on the Front. Clams, oysters, shrimp, and perfectly cooked french fries. An excellent meal to cure the soul. Most people would consider eating battered seafood while living so close to the coast a sacrilege, but Barkley’s fried goodness is tough to resist. The seasoning they use is killer. They fry everything together, place it on a big table, and use a huge scoop to shovel your order into a brown paper bag. The paper bag soaks up all of the bad grease—at least, that’s what we tell ourselves.

  This may sound disgusting to some, but it is absolutely delicious.

  Luca whispers in Kerry’s ear.

  “I think we should head out,” Kerry says, with a blush, while gathering the pieces of the game back into the box. Luca feigns a yawn and nods. They aren’t fooling anyone. Kerry looks up at me. “Are you going to be okay, Stella?”

  I nod. “Of course. I just need to sleep today off. Tomorrow will be better, somehow.”

  “Yeah,” she says, sounding unconvinced. “I’m not going back until she tells you to come back.”

  I shake my head. “No, you should go help her however you can. I know she is being a class A bitch right now, but she needs help. Just show up in the morning and keep your head down. Do what she asks. But if she yells at you even once, leave. Don’t even hesitate.”

  Tears come to Kerry’s eyes. She nods and leans in to give me a hug. “Okay. I will.” She exhales loudly.

  Padraig and I see Kerry and Luca out.

  “Would you like me to stay or go?” Padraig asks.

  “Stay.”

  We curl up on the couch together and watch television for a while until we decide to make our way to my bedroom, where Padraig helps me completely release all of the tension built up from the longest day of my life.

  “She said if I didn’t pick up your slack, she’d fire me,” Kerry griped, taking a heavy swig of her Bloody Mary. She’s nestled into one side of my couch, feet tucked underneath her, blanket up to her neck. I mirror her position on the other end.

  I roll my eyes and shake my head. “I just don’t understand her. She’s always been short and blunt, but now she’s just downright cruel. There is something going on that is stressing her out beyond the business. I just wish she’d tell me.” I swig my own Bloody Mary while Kerry shrugs. We tied on another one last night, our own stressors getting the best of us once again. With me currently unemployed, however, I can afford a few more hangovers.

  “I still can’t believe she fired you. After everything.” Kerry sets down her glass and partially buries her face into her blanket. I don’t respond, although I can’t believe it either. I think I may still be in shock.

  My phone begins to ring. I lean toward the coffee table, place my glass down, and reach for the phone. The number on the illuminated screen is an unknown. I give Kerry a raised-eyebrow look and swipe the screen to answer.

  “Stella Rosencourt.”

  “Ms. Rosencourt, this is Suzette Madison calling from Mayor MacNamara’s office.”

  My eyes go wide and I swallow hard. “Yes?”

  “Mayor MacNamara has concerns over the planning of the St. Patrick’s Day ball.”

  I hang my head and run my fingers through my hair. “I’m sorry, Ms. Madison, but I’m no longer working on that event.”

  “Precisely the reason I’m calling. Mayor MacNamara is worried that his vision for the ball will not be fully realized if you do not contribute your ideas until the event’s completion.”

  “I didn’t just quit; I was removed from the event by the owner of the planning company that Mrs. MacNamara hired.”

  “We are fully aware of that piece of information. The mayor would like to request your presence at his office at eight o’clock tomorrow morning. Are you able to write down the address?”

  I am trying to comprehend what is going on at this very moment. The mayor wants to meet with me? I jump up from my position on the sofa and head over to my kitchen bar, where I keep a notepad and pen.

  “I am.”

  Suzette rattles off the address, and I write it down. I have so many questions that I want to ask her, but before I am able, she ends the conversation with a final statement prior to hanging up. “We will see you in the morning, Ms. Rosencourt.”

  I stand stunned.

  “What was that about?” Kerry asks, pulling me from my trance.

  “Uh. The mayor. In the morning. He wants to see me.”

  “What?” Kerry begins, following with at least half a dozen other questions.

  I shake my head. “I don’t know anything other than that and that it has to do with the St. Patrick’s Day ball.”

  I had set my alarm for quarter to six, but I haven’t slept a wink with thoughts of what was possibly going to go down at the mayor’s office. Will Victoria be there, too? Rachel? How on earth am I going to continue to set up for the ball
without their approval? Is the mayor going to fire Rachel? Oh, God, if so, Rachel will have me murdered and dumped into the Savannah River for sure.

  I haven’t been able to get in touch with Padraig since the mayor’s secretary called me. I want to know if he knows more details. But he had gone out of town for work before I’d gotten the call from Ms. Madison. I have tried calling him a couple of times, but he doesn’t answer or return my calls. It worries me a little, but the visit to the mayor’s office worries me so much more that I have to push thoughts of Padraig’s unavailability to the side.

  After tossing and turning for hours, I finally rise at five o’clock, not being able to take the questions floating around in my head in dark silence any longer. I take the longest shower I’ve ever taken. I stand in my closet for half an hour before I decide what I am going to wear. I put my hair in a sleek, business bun. Then I change my mind, take it down, shake it out, and curl my hair. Then I put it back into a bun.

  I drink three cups of coffee and consider a fourth. I pick at a piece of dry toast, willing myself to eat it, but I can’t. Finally, at quarter after seven, I head out the door and make my way to City Hall. Ten minutes later, and over half an hour early, I’m standing in the doorway of the mayor’s office. Inside the office is a large cherrywood desk with a woman sitting behind it. A small brass placard sits just past her computer monitor. “Suzette Madison,” it reads. I watch her briefly as she talks on the phone. Her suit is crisp and stark. Her golden and gray-streaked hair is twisted to perfection on the back of her head. She’s wearing pearls around her neck and wrist. The receiver of a cordless phone is wedged between her shoulder and ear while she types something on the keyboard of her computer. Behind her, to the left, is a closed door the same color as Suzette’s desk. A large brass nameplate hanging in the center of the door reads “Mayor Seamus MacNamara.”

  “Okay, Mr. Collins, I will be sure that he contacts you as soon as he’s available. Great. Have a lovely day. You, too. Thank you. Bye,” Suzette says, ending her phone conversation and directing her attention to me.

  “How may I help you?” she asks.

  I clear my throat. “I’m Stella Rosencourt. You called me yesterday regarding a meeting with the mayor.”

  Suzette turns her wrist to look at her watch. “Well, I can’t fault you for being early.” She stands and walks toward me. “I’m Suzette Madison.” She extends her hand for a shake, and I oblige. She motions me to a leather chair against the wall. “Please, have a seat. Mr. MacNamara is currently with other business. Would you like some coffee?”

  “No, thank you.” I think if I have another cup, I may jitter myself to pieces. Suzette pours herself a cup from the coffee pot set up in an alcove of the office. She returns to her desk, sits, and begins pecking away at her keyboard, not saying another word to me.

  I sit and I wait. My hands fidget. I cross my legs. Left over right. Right over left. At the ankles. I smooth over my suit skirt at least a hundred times. I try to concentrate on the details of a picture of old Savannah on the wall. There’s a tall plant in the corner of the room by a window. Is it a ficus? Twenty minutes pass, and my nerves are on the verge of getting the best of me. Just at the moment I don’t think I can sit quiet and still any longer, the door behind Suzette opens.

  I recognize Mr. MacNamara instantly, as his face is plastered all over the city. Behind him emerges a slightly taller and younger version of the mayor.

  Padraig.

  My eyes go wide, and my stomach flips. I stand swiftly, and my heel wobbles underneath me. I pray no one in the room saw that. Mayor MacNamara and Padraig are laughing and shaking hands. The mayor pats Padraig on the shoulder once and goes in briefly for a manly hug. Padraig turns and sees me. “Stella! You’re awfully early.”

  I wave a low, shy wave at him and take a few steps to get closer. “Hi. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “Just doing a little business with me dad here. You two have not met, have you? Dad, the lovely lady is Stella Rosencourt. Stella, this is me dad, the mayor.”

  The mayor and I shake hands. “You were right, Paddy; her smile is intoxicating.”

  I blush at the fact that they’ve discussed me prior to this encounter. And that Padraig may have referenced my smile as being intoxicating. My heart beats a little faster.

  “Well,” Padraig starts, “I’ll leave you two. I know you have lots of important things to discuss.” He winks at me.

  I place my hand on my chest. “I don’t . . . I mean, you aren’t staying?”

  “No.” He leans in, gently touches my shoulder, and places a light kiss on my cheek. “I have a very busy day planned. Can I call you later?” I nod, and he walks out.

  “Ms. Rosencourt. May I call you Stella?” The mayor gestures his arm for me to enter his office.

  I smile and nod. “Absolutely, Mayor.”

  “Please, call me Seamus. Now, we have a matter of the St. Patrick’s Day ball to discuss,” he says as he closes the door behind us.

  The mayor and I have a lengthy discussion about the ball. He talks mostly, and I confirm everything Padraig has told him. That it was my idea to make the party focused on real Irish traditions, that both Victoria and Rachel gave me a hard time about my ideas, and that Rachel took me off the event because Victoria saw Padraig and I kissing and claimed it was a conflict of interest. I hesitate to discuss the last part, but Seamus assures me that he is completely fine with me spending time with his son. In fact, he says he is over the moon about it.

  He also mentions that he knows Moira is involved. I can see a sparkle in his eyes when he speaks of her. He talks about how they had been young and ambitious and jumped on a boat to America when they were barely adults. How they had gotten jobs and worked hard in New York and eventually earned citizenship. How they left New York and migrated down the East Coast, moving farther south every few years, just to find new adventures, until finally settling in Savannah after realizing the constant transition was taking a toll on Padraig. He reminisces with a longing gaze. He talks about Moira’s talent and passion for cooking. I feel love and admiration radiate from him when he talks about her cooking. This man is still very much in love with his first wife. It is written all over his face.

  Seamus apologizes for Victoria’s behavior toward me and tells me that he has spoken to Rachel, requesting that I be put back on the planning of the event. He told Rachel he’d cancel the event completely if I wasn’t involved. I am stunned at his boldness. This did not sound like a man who was a pushover to his staff and patrons. I thank him a thousand times before I leave his office. He thanks me back for having great ideas.

  I make my way over to Moira’s house. I have some things to discuss with her about the menu, but I also want to talk to her about Seamus. I wonder what she’ll have to say about the conversation I just had with him.

  As I’m walking to her house, my phone rings. It’s Rachel. “Hello,” I answer.

  “I hope you aren’t forgetting that you have a meeting with the florist today at two thirty.”

  “Good morning to you, too, Rachel.”

  “I don’t know whose dick you sucked to get the mayor to call me and threaten to call off the St. Patrick’s Day ball, but I will tell you this: If you fuck up even one minuscule detail of the event, I will make sure you never plan another event in this town again.”

  Rachel’s words make my blood boil. I don’t know why she thinks she can talk to me in such a crass manner, but it ends now. She sounds just like Victoria. “Rachel, you listen to me. I will be at the meeting today. And I will be at every other meeting that involves this event until it is over. And when it is over, you and I are done. I don’t know what has come over you in the past few months, and I don’t know why you won’t tell me, but I will not allow you to treat me the way you’ve been treating me any longer. And I will not tolerate you talking to me the way you just did. I will keep you posted on how everything is progressing, and if you have anything to discuss with me on a professi
onal level, you can text me.” Without allowing her to respond, I hang up as I walk up the steps to Moira’s door.

  “I wish there was something I could do. If you could have seen the way his face lit up from talking about you, you would have run right into his arms,” I say, smiling, giddy like a schoolgirl, while kneading dough for soda bread. I hadn’t planned on getting a baking lesson when coming over, but I wasn’t going to turn it down either. I also wasn’t going to turn down a glass of cider.

  “I’ve seen it, love. I’ve seen that look in his eyes.” She looks up and away, her expression dreamy, as if she’s remembering a better time.

  “It breaks my heart to know that you both still love each other so much but aren’t together. It’s not fair. It shouldn’t be this way. You should be able to share your life with the one you love. Not sitting here pining away all by yourself. And certainly not sharing a home with a whore bitch with no brains.”

  Moira swats me with a dish towel and gives me a devious grin. “You’ve been hanging around Padraig too much.”

  I lift my glass of cider and let out a small cackle. “I’ve had too much of this is the problem. It makes me too chatty.”

  Moira opens her mouth to respond but stops at the sound of the front door opening. A few moments later, Padraig comes through the kitchen. He gives his mother a hug and a peck on the cheek. “Mam.”

  “It’s good to see you, love. We were just talking about you.”

  He makes his way over to me and kisses my lips. “Good things, I hope.” He looks into my eyes, and his gaze sends vibrations through my body.

  “Of course,” is all I can respond.