‘We have a bucket filled with heart-shaped stones,’ said Isabelle. ‘We could put them on each seat.’
‘Some of them don’t look like hearts, though,’ admitted Killian. ‘Just funny-shaped stones.’
‘But they are heart enough,’ said Isabelle. ‘Isn’t that right, Rosie, heart enough is enough?’
Rosie smiled at her. ‘It’s enough.’
‘Dad is not allowed to leave the house,’ said Killian. ‘He’s under house arrest, he says, but Mum says he can’t leave until he paints the bathroom. But he says he doesn’t want to be trapped in a house with two children…’
‘He means us,’ explained Isabelle. ‘So he said that we could come and find you and you would mind us.’
‘Come on, let’s have our swim and then I’ll have to get back to work,’ said Rosie, before turning back to Grace. ‘By the way, I like François’s ideas. I’ll go and talk to him.’
‘And my wedding ideas? Can we do more? Because I can’t wait to get started!’
Rosie nodded. ‘Yes, of course… let’s do it.’ She smiled at Grace. ‘You know everyone is so talented in the team and I wish I were too.’
‘Mrs Juniper says you should never put yourself down,’ said Isabelle. ‘That means saying not nice things to yourself and I think you are talented. I mean, not the most talented one, not like Bertie or Maureen… or Granddad. He’s an actual genius. He fixed my bike. And he made a beehive, remember?’
‘And Martin Moore is talented,’ said Killian. ‘He fixed the hotel after the electricity disappeared?’
‘But you are talented,’ said Isabelle. ‘You are too, Grace, at…’ She paused.
‘At what?’ said Grace.
Isabelle was still thinking. ‘At wearing kaftans,’ she said, presently. ‘That’s your greatest talent.’
‘And making the cushions look nice,’ said Killian, smiling at Grace, as though he was giving her the biggest compliment.
‘I’m so flattered,’ said Grace, sincerely. ‘Thanks, guys.’
Rosie held the twins’ hands, half-listening to them talk and thinking about the hotel and what she had done over the last decade. It had only been when she’d relied on other people that things had really worked: Grace joining the team to take on weddings and other events and, of course, Bertie was in charge of front of house and Teddy was, she supposed, back of house. And now François with his foodie ambitions. They were slowly making more money. Her mother’s hotel had been ahead of its time, with family-style dining, the home-from-home atmosphere, but these days it was so much about service and business and being commercially viable. She hadn’t been the most successful hotelier ever, she wasn’t innately talented in the world of hospitality. She had driven herself on, focused on not letting her mother down or her dream to fail. But it hadn’t, because her mother was more than just the hotel. She was still with them, part of them all. She was there in Nessa and Rosie and in the faces of Killian and Isabelle. And the hotel was in good hands, there was a brilliant team who kept it ticking away. Perhaps it was time for a change and to face the unknown? And perhaps it was time to find out from Lucinda why she had said what she said.
40
PATRICK
On his way down to breakfast, Kate rushed past Patrick, carrying a dress in a long white cover, her hair in huge rollers. He stopped in the corridor on the landing, turning to face her.
‘Morning Patrick,’ she said icily, looking him up and down, appraising his shorts and T-shirt. ‘Er, we have a wedding. Aren’t you getting ready?’
‘I’m going for a swim. We have a few hours.’
‘Oh, it’s easy for you.’ Kate rolled her eyes. ‘Shower, shave, suit, and you’re done.’ She gave him a look laden with meaning. ‘It’s like you aren’t fully engaging.’
‘Kate? Everything okay with you?’
‘I don’t know, Patrick. Is everything okay with you?’
‘It’s fine…’
‘Last night I came to talk to you, being nice, you know, as bridesmaid-in-chief and you’re best man and we hadn’t managed to go over all the things we need to go over, but you’re there with Grace and Rosie or whatever her name is and then that American woman? And I don’t know, it just seemed really odd and weird. And I’m just trying to make sure the wedding goes off smoothly and there’s no oddness.’ She glared at him.
‘Kate,’ he said, gently, ‘I’m only in Dublin for a few days. I hope I didn’t give you any impression…’
‘Impression of what?’ She laughed, holding up a hand with unfeasibly long nails, useful as a form of medieval torture. ‘Oh, I thought it was the other way round. I wanted to say to you that I hoped you weren’t under the misapprehension that I was interested or even… available.’ She shook her head, as though amused that he might have been so bold as to imagine he’d be on her romantic radar. ‘To be honest, I am currently in a situationship with a consultant thoracic surgeon and there are signs that it will evolve into something more…’
‘Like what?’ He was intrigued.
