‘Of course! I’ve been so self-important, thinking I was saving the hotel. But I wasn’t. Was just keeping it going. It’s time to hand it on, stop being controlling.’
Nessa was nodding. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I would love to. I have so many ideas. For one, we have to be even more profitable and I think we need to do up the dining room. I’m thinking a lovely ikat fabric, billowy curtains out to the terrace. Fresh flowers on the tables. And the bar, it’s too dark. And I want fairy lights on the terrace and music on Saturday nights and Christmas parties and mince pies and hot ports and then we can have the Holy Communion crowds in. Honestly, it’s going to be amazing.’ Nessa laughed. ‘Oh, Rosie. I do love you.’ And suddenly she hugged her. ‘I don’t know what the twins and I would do without you.’
But Rosie was already back in the Land Rover, making for the hotel, knowing it was in very good hands indeed. She had to see Patrick before he checked out. And say what, exactly? That she was sorry about not going with him before? That she was desperate to stay in contact? That it had been good to see him… and… well, everything really. She wanted another chance. She had to see if he felt the same way. His breath in her ear as they danced together, his voice. There was something there, she knew it. She had to tell him that she wanted to go with him to Boston, that she was ready for an adventure and she wanted to know if he wanted one with her. She needed him to know that she wanted a different kind of life, that she was not stuck, or small, or hiding away here in Ireland. That she could be bold and big and brilliant, like him. She needed him to at least know that, because if he left without knowing it, then she would regret it all her life. And, well, if he said thanks but no thanks, then Rosie would completely accept it. But she had said goodbye to him once before and this time she needed to embrace life fully. But perhaps she was too late? There was only one way of finding out.
47
PATRICK
It was his last morning in Ireland. Soon, he’d be halfway across the Atlantic, back to his Boston life. There was so much to look forward to, working with his team, planning the new premises and the conference he was meant to be going to for the Irish In America Business Group, which was always good craic But it felt a world away, a rocket ride, not a hop across the Atlantic, and he could barely remember who he was over there, the Patrick Power who ran Fitzgerald’s and had a smooth word for everyone. Had he really only been here for four days? Surely it had been weeks or even months since Seán had collected him from the airport.
The most important thing was that his brother and Niamh were happily married and had had a wonderful few days. And even with their father present, there had been some kind of resolution for Patrick. Well, not aresolutionas such, more an acceptance. Patrick no longer felt that rage and roil whenever he thought of him. He knew anger didn’t have to feature any longer and the cycle could stop right here.
And then there was Rosie.
He wished he could do the whole weekend all over again, this time he’d be prepared for their first meeting and he would know exactly what to say. Perhaps he could be cooler, wittier, just an old friend from a past life, rather than the moony old fool he knew he’d been. And as for begging her to go with him to Boston! He cringed again. How many times would he ask her before the message got into his thick skull? Perhaps once he was back on that plane, he would be able to feel the same kind of acceptance about her as he did about his father? He hoped so.
He packed his suitcase, including the sprig of lavender he’d taken from the garden, placed a generous tip for the housemaid on the chest of drawers, and left the room. In the hallway, he looked out at the Irish Sea, sparkling just as it had all week and he felt that awful ache, knowing he was about to leave everyone again, not just Seán and Niamh, but having to leave part of him behind for this life he had built on the other side of the ocean. He was going to have to go through missing Ireland all over again, as though he was leaving it for the first time and would have to endure the months of homesickness.
In reception, after settling his bill and booking a taxi, he searched for Rosie but she was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he quickly scribbled a goodbye note and left it with the receptionist. He’d wanted to talk to her in person but perhaps it was better to just leave it like this because, really, what was the point? He’d already asked her to come with him and she’d said no. It was about time he got on with his life.
The wedding party were all out on the terrace and he took a moment to steel himself before striding outside. Seán stood up when he saw Patrick and the two brothers locked eyes for a moment, their jaws set, before flinging their arms around each other, holding on closely and tightly, both silent.
‘Be good, right?’ said Patrick, pulling away.
‘Yeah, amn’t I always?’ But Seán had tears in his eyes. ‘You too. Okay?’
Patrick nodded before they hugged again and it was like they were still small, still living in the farmhouse, the cows in the shed, their mother in the kitchen, and they were just two boys doing their best to grow up to be good men.
We’ve done it, thought Patrick.We haven’t been too bad. Thanks to Mam, of course. We’ve made it somehow.
‘Thanks for coming.’ Seán was making a valiant effort to keep it together. ‘We really appreciate it.’
‘Ah, you’re grand. Wouldn’t have missed it.’ Patrick grinned, although God knows how. ‘Pity Cork weren’t playing this weekend. Might have made it really worth coming over.’
Seán laughed. ‘Next time I get married, I’ll make sure it’s on an All-Ireland final when Cork are in.’
‘What’s this about your next wedding?’ Niamh had slipped in beside him. ‘You’d better not be planning another wedding.’
‘If there is,’ said Seán, ‘it will be to you all over again.’
‘You two okay?’ Niamh asked, looking from one to the other. ‘You know you can come and stay with us anytime, Patrick. And we’ll come over to you. What about September?’
Patrick nodded, not quite able to say anything more. ‘Yeah… sounds good. Better go. Taxi should be here.’
He hugged Niamh and took a few moments shaking hands with the other guests before leaving them all behind and then Seán walked him out, through the hotel and out into the front drive. Patrick wheeled his case out of the door, where the taxi was waiting. He placed his case in the boot and turned to hug Seán one last time and thankfully they kept it light, with a few slaps on the back.
‘See you in Boston,’ said Patrick.
Seán nodded, raising his hand to wave him off as Patrick stepped into the back of the taxi, before rolling down the window.
‘I’ll miss you, you know,’ said Seán.
‘Yeah…’ Patrick was silent again.Say something, he urged himself.Say how you feel. He cleared his throat. ‘I’ll miss you. I’m so proud of you. You’re the real success of the family.’ Patrick looked Seán straight in the eyes. ‘You’re the fella I most look up to. Always have done.’
‘Ah, stop, would you.’ Seán shook his head. ‘You’ll have me bawling.’
Patrick smiled at him. ‘It’s true.’
