Cutting another soft strip, then another, I eat hungrily. The creamy butter has fully melted into my potato and I scoop some out. Also absolutely delicious. It has a natural starchy sweetness. Potatoes do not taste like this in New York! I look across the table to the empty chair facing me.
What would it be like to share a meal with Dan, I suddenly wonder.
‘Maggie. This Irish air really has gone to your head,’ I mutter under my breath, then giggle lightly.
And what would it be like to be kissed by him? The hardness of his stubble, the softness of those lips? I shock myself! It’s been so long since a thought like this has crossed my mind, I’ve beenso shut off to any romantic endeavours. Sweeping the thought away, I concentrate on devouring the most delicious meal I’ve eaten in ages. Clearly the quality of the food is not the reason the dining hall is empty. Or the service. With less than half my steak left, I make myself take a time out. I minimise my Castlemoon report to Frederick and open the one for my article. I type:
‘The atmosphere of the Sweet Orange Room is elegant without being stuffy, just like the menu which boasts simple Irish food, cooked to perfection. No bells and whistles. All organic from Jimmy Murphy’s local farm. The room is filled with simple round tables with starched white linen tablecloths, straight backed wooden chairs and heavy antique cutlery. Sophisticated, real, done in a way this writer has never experienced before. Reader, for the night before, or indeed after, your wedding, this is the dinner spot for you. I dined on a succulent chargrilled striploin steak so tender that it melted in my mouth and all sorts of flavours exploded. Crispy fried onions, salty and slightly caramelised, that didn’t stand a chance. As I write, a wedding is in full swing next door and there is undeniable aura of love in the air. There is a magic between these sandstone walls, I can feel it .?.?. I can almost taste it .?.?. I’m starting to believe .?.?.’
I pick up my fork and spear another strip of meat, pop it in my mouth, pick up a long stem of broccoli with my fingers, when suddenly a light bulb sparks in my brain. Dropping my cutlery, swiftly I push my chair, slam the MacBook shut, wondering what I am thinking sitting here? Hadn’t Mary mentioned this was the only wedding booked in this month! I have to see the Heart Ballroom in full wedding swing so that my readers can too. I’ve been far too distracted with this Dan Delaney guy and all the goings on. I need to pull myself together. Pushing my camera, Dictaphone and MacBook into my satchel, I snap the copper clasps shut, but not before I pop the last piece of steak in mymouth and throw back the rest of my wine.
I decide against going back up to my room to change into my red ball gown, I’ve already been invited as I am – Aisling did ask me in after all. Instead I make a quick dash to the ladies to fix my face. Inside the grand old-fashioned bathroom, there is a huge vanity table with a backlit mirror and two old armchairs siting on a carpeted floor.
Running my fingers through my curls, I dab on concealer and gloss my lips. Luckily, there is a little box with hygiene products and I pick up a body spray called Coconut Passion and give myself a good spritz. I take a glance in the mirror and smooth myself down. Happy with my reflection, I head for the wedding, eager to see the Heart Ballroom and also excited to feel like a tiny part of this incredible wedding party.
TWELVE
Following the powerful beat of live music along the corridor, I walk down to the end of the hallway. As I walk past the now empty reception desk, the original beams become lower. I can only imagine that Dan Delaney has to dip his head walking down here, then I give a frustrated sigh and run my hands through my curls. Stop thinking about him, I hiss in my head, annoyed with myself.
‘Hiiiiii Maggie!’ I turn to see three of the bridesmaids I’ve just photographed in their off-the-shoulder lilac dresses all waving at me. They are doing a funny dance, happily making what I assume is a TikTok outside the ballroom.
‘Hi!’ I smile, waving back as I pass them, feeling touched that they remembered my name as I slip inside the open doors of the wedding reception.
It’s a huge wedding. I know from my research that the ballroom has a hundred and eighty capacity, and it looks filled to the max, yet it still doesn’t look busy. People are sitting around circular tables that surround an old parquet dancefloor. I do a quick head count of twelve per table. A few older people are dancing and the bridal table sits under the three Venetian windows that I first saw when I drove in earlier. Aisling and Aaron are doing the rounds as a live band play in the corner. Ihold myself tight against the back wall so I can observe.
It is stunning, but I can see why it’s so expensive to hire. It must cost an absolute fortune to heat, especially in winter. I can’t help wondering what I would do here, if this were my room to organise. I cast my eye around, lost in my creative vision, oblivious and muttering to myself.
‘I’d one hundred percent use a divider and make two ballrooms out—’
‘They say talking to yourself is a sign of madness but I do it all the time.’ I nearly jump out of my skin as Dan slides along the wall beside me. It’s hard to tell from his voice whether or not he’s teasing again.
‘Jesus.’ I grab my chest.
‘No, it’s Dan. But you can call me Jesus if you like?’ he declares, this time giving my arm an affectionate squeeze. I stiffen.
‘Ha,’ I say, feeling giddy at his touch, not to mention how close he is, but determined to cut this conversation short and get on with my job. ‘We have to stop meeting like this,’ is what comes out of my mouth as I turn to look at him, noticing how he links his thumbs into the strap of that leather belt.
‘You know what they say: third time’s a charm.’ He drawls lightly.
‘True but clearly the universe has a sense of humour.’ I look at him.
‘Meaning?’ He raises a bushy eyebrow, a crooked half smile, and I am pleased to see he looks happy and that sadness he wore earlier has lifted.
‘Nothing.’ I try to keep my tone professional now as I glance out at the dance floor.
‘You weren’t very gracious about my apology so I’m taking it back.’ His body language is now a little guarded as he crosses his arms.
‘You can’t. Anyway, I was assuming Mary put you up to it?’ I accuse but I keep my voice light. I take a step along the wall away from him.
‘When you assume you make an ass out of you and me.’ Dan steps after me, elbows me playfully with his arms still crossed.
‘Yup, I’ve heard that one before.’ I refrain from elbowing him back.
‘Where are the Irish roots?’ he suddenly asks me.
‘How did you know that I had Irish roots?’ I say confused.
‘The red hair is a bit of a giveaway now.’ He raises a finger to my hair.
