“No, but I think I got close.He lost me at the fence.”I point.“Devious little jerks.”
“What can we even do about that, if they’ve moved in around the barn?”
I shrug.“I was thinking of getting a gun and shooting the little boogers.”
She laughs.“This isn’t Texas.What are you really going to do?”
I wasn’t prepared to solve a fake problem, so now I’m just making even more stuff up.“Well, uh, you know, squirrels love pecans, so maybe I can poison them.”
Vanessa looks like I just throat-punched her.Now she’s spluttering.“You want to—what?Are you kidding?Think of the birds and the other little creatures that could get into that poison, not to mention our barn cats.Plus, the squirrels don’t deserve to die, just because they’re scaring the horses.”
“Right.”I shake my head.Another two minutes of interrogation, and I’ll be late for Richard’s lunch.That’ll sure impress his father.“Well, I’ll give it some more thought for sure.”
“I don’t want to ride in the arena until we figure this out,” she says.“So maybe I’ll do some internet searching.”
Oh, boy.
Natalie uses that phrase all the time, and now she has me saying and even thinking it.“Look, Vanessa, don’t worry too much.I’m sure between the two of us, Natalie and I will come up with a way to solve it.”I don’t want her wasting time on a fake problem because it’s the only excuse I could come up with for why I’d be walking around back here and not riding.We have more than enough real problems.
“Right.”She nods, her mouth compressed.“I guess you will.”She tilts her head.“And hey, when’s your dinner?Shouldn’t you be going?”
Thank goodness.It’s a parachute at just the right moment.“I’m about to meet Richard’s father.”I make big eyes.
Her mouth forms a round ‘o.’“Shoot.Did all my talking make you late?”
“Not yet, but it could if we talk much longer.”I’m smiling, so she knows I’m not upset.
Vanessa waves me by.“Go, go, but text me after and tell me how it went.If you need it, I have a mean right hook.”
Yeah, right.“Or, there’s always Jack, right?I hear he took Jeremy out.”I’m laughing as I leave, and I’m delighted to see that she is, too.
“Jeremy deserved it,” Vanessa says.“Jack—he was just protecting me.”
“I’m sure that’s true,” I say.“That’s why we like him.”
Moments later, I’m in my car, heading to the restaurant where I’m meeting Richard, a little over the speed limit to try and make up for lost time with Vanessa’s interrogation.In Ireland, driving over the speed limit is actually a little scary.Back home, I was afraid to drive over the speed limit for fear of getting a ticket.In Ireland, it’s not the threat of tickets that keeps me slow.
It’s the hedges.
On our girls’ trip, we toured Crossogue farms and Galtee Honey farm, so I know that they keep the hedges so local bees and bramble have a place as urban settlements encroach upon the wild more and more.But having hedgerows beside every single road makes going the posted speed limit absolutely terrifying.You can’t see what’s coming around the bendy roads, and there’s absolutely no shoulder.The locals tear around the blind corners and bends with alacrity, as if they have absolutely no fear they’ll crash or plow into a slow-moving tractor that doesn’t fit on the tiny roads.
Usually I drive far below the posted limits.
But not today.
Today I’m flying around corners, praying there aren’t any sheep or an oversized lorry, thundering across a tiny, one-lane stone bridge.When I finally make it to the expressway, and I’m zooming toward Waterford, I breathe a heavy sigh of relief.I didn’t hit anyone or anything, and my GPS tells me that thanks to my dangerous driving, I should arrivejuston time.
Until a car accident ahead of me causes me to be ten minutes late.
When I walk inside, Richard’s already there, hailing me from the corner.My cheeks heat, and I want to cry, but instead I walk across the small but extremely tasteful restaurant with my head held high.Horse shows have prepared me to brave difficult situations with some grace.As I approach the table, Richard and his father both stand.
I’m struck again by how strong the family resemblance is.
Richard’s going to age pretty well, so that’s nice, but his father doesn’t look very happy to see me.I suppose an American who shows up late and rides young, idiotic horses with very little skill isn’t exactly a dream match for his son.
“Samantha,” he says, his voice surprisingly low.“Welcome.I’m so glad you could join us.”
“I’m delighted, too,” I say.“And this place looks amazing.”
