GRAY
“Miss you, too, Mom,”Gray smiled at her laptop screen since her mom insisted on video chatting to make sure her daughter wasn’t lying about being fine.
She’d been in Zurich for six weeks and was flying home tomorrow. The spa that her Grandma Mary had helped launch years ago had built several small villas dotted around the property for guests who wanted more privacy and treatments in the comfort of a home away from home.
Gray’s job had been to market the new additions, throw parties, and lead walkthroughs for potential clients. Many wanted to lease or buy the villas. The spa hadn’t been prepared for the level of interest they received, and Gray encouraged them to quickly pivot in their marketing.
Once she’d revised her original proposal, the owners asked her to stay on an extra two weeks. They were convinced she was their lucky charm—they may have been right. She’d helped convince six singles and couples to purchase a villa, as well as got a few more on the line for the remaining three units.
She may have worked her tail off, but there was plenty of pleasure too. The owners had given her carte blanche for all of the spa’s services. She’d never looked or felt better.
“It’s going to be tough to pull myself away from this place, but I think I’ve pushed my professors enough.” Online school sucked, but it had kept her evenings busy and her thoughts away from a certain man.
“I can’t believe you’ve never brought Dad here. Amra said that any member of our family is always welcome. She remembers Grandma Mary working with her mother-in-law all that time ago.”
“You know, maybe I should plan an anniversary getaway for Mom and Dad,” her mom mused. “We could make it a family trip.”
“I’d be down but give me some time to drop the four pounds I’ve put on since I got here,” she chuckled, sighing when she released the button of her slacks. “I swear, Mom, I’ve eaten Caramalklöpfli twice a day since I got here.”
Her mom laughed. “I doubt you’ve been that bad.”
“Caramalklöpfli is flan topped with caramel sauce. It’s to die for, and yes, I have been that bad.”
“Besides getting fat,” she joked, “has the time away done you good?”
“It has,” Gray admitted, “I’ve thought about what moving forward looks like, and I think it has me confronting Ciar. I deserve answers, and then maybe we can eventually be friends again or at least not avoid each other for the next fifty years.”
“That sounds like a wise decision. I hear Gray Eyes is smashing it.” Laughing, she added, “River told me that Ciaran and his brother Cormac told Patrick that they finally told Ciar that they were, and I quote, ‘Bloody well done with wearing suits.’”
“That sounds like those two,” Gray sighed, missing the thought of hanging out at Murphy’s Pub. She was being a big talker to her mother, but she wasn’t ready to run into Ciar at his father’s pub quite yet. Or anywhere, really.
“They told him to hire some ‘posh lad,’” she air-quoted, “to fiddle with the place.”
“Ciar should have seen that one coming. I left a list of potential managers with Jess and Derek. Did they remember to show him?”
“They did, and he chose your top recommendation without interviews.”
She swallowed whatever snarky comment that wanted to sneak out, choosing to change the subject. “How are Dad and Loch?” Her brother was fifteen and the spitting image of their dad. He was the best brother, though, and Gray couldn’t wait to force him to give her a hug when she flew home tomorrow.
For her parents’ sake, she’d agreed to fly to Inverness to have a day and night with the family before facing real life in Dublin.
“They miss you. I miss you, Gray. I know you’ve been going through it, and damn if you haven’t taken after me in wanting to suffer alone, but I don’t think I can take much more,” she admitted.
“I’ll see you in the morning, Mom. I land at nine, and I expect chocolate scones at Mindy’s Bakery before facing the men.”
“From Swiss flan to good old-fashioned Scottish biscuits and jam. I like how you roll. It’s a deal. They sound yummy.”
Her mom still insisted on calling a scone a biscuit. However, Gray admitted that Scottish scones had nothing on American biscuits. Talk about drool-worthy. Everyone should have an Oklahoma diner on their bucket list, even if it was only for biscuits and sausage gravy.
They said their goodbyes, and Gray promised to text before she boarded in the morning. “Mom,” she hesitated briefly, “thanks for giving me the time away.”
“Anything Gray. I’d do anything. Let’s be honest, though, sweetheart, you made O’Connor Hospitality a pretty penny in Zurich. Grandma saw the numbers and hasn’t stopped crowing that you take after her.”
That made them both laugh. “We both know I’m all yours, though.”
“We do,” her mom agreed.
twenty-five
