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She’s off giving a tour then. Thx for bringing up the fertilizer!
When Cordelia stopped by the cottage to grab her bag, she emerged and was surprised to find a border collie sitting on the dirt path, looking at her with shockingly intelligent eyes.
“Hello,” she said, glancing around. “Who do you belong to?”
The dog padded forward and sniffed her pockets, then her bag. When she discovered that Cordelia had no treats hidden on her person, she nudged at her right hand for a pet. Cordelia laughed.
“Are you hungry?” she asked, scratching behind the dog’s ear. “Hold on.”
She went back inside to retrieve some of the leftover bacon Alison had made and found the dog sniffing around her bike.
“Here you go,” she said, holding it out. The dog came forward and the bacon vanished in an instant. She cocked her head, one ear flopping, then looked in the direction of the road.
“Is that where your home is?” Cordelia asked. “Okay, let’s go.”
She climbed onto the bike seat and began to pedal. The dog trotted happily along beside her and Cordelia soon realized that this creature was a bit of a celebrity.
“All right, Pocket!” a man in a truck called as he passed.
A woman walking along with an umbrella said, “Made a new friend, have you, Pocket?”
“So your name is Pocket, huh?” Cordelia said.
When they passed the large yellow farmhouse, Cordelia saw a woman with wild brown curls taking laundry down off a line. It was such a perfect picture, stockings dancing in the whipping wind, the pale sunshine color of the farmhouse behind. Cordelia’s fingers ached for her camera. The woman dropped the sheet she was holding and put her hands on hips.
“Pocket!” she shouted, and the dog perked up as the woman came hurrying over.
“I’m sorry, she wasn’t bothering you, was she?” the woman asked. “Come here, you scoundrel. You’re meant to be up at Róisín’s place.”
“I think she was,” Cordelia said. “I’m Cordelia, I’m renting the cottage from Alison for the summer.”
“Oh, the American girl!” the woman said.
“That’s me.” Cordelia grimaced. “News really travels fast.”
The woman chuckled. “Not much else to do in a small place like this except talk. I’m Fiona.” They shook hands over the stone wall that lined the property. “So you’re staying the whole summer, eh? I hope you don’t get bored. I know you young folks like to party.”
“I’m not really a partyer,” Cordelia said.
“Well, that’s good. Have you met Róisín yet?”
“No,” Cordelia said, puzzled. “She doesn’t ever seem to be home.”
Fiona laughed. “She’s always got something or other going on. Does a lot of cart rides for the tourists. Where are you off to then?”
“I thought I’d go down to the harbour for lunch.”
“If it’s food you’re after you should go to O’Connor’s. All the locals love it.”
Cordelia smiled. “I know, Alison took me there last night.”
“And how did you find it?” Fiona was giving her a stern look that made Cordelia certain there was only one appropriate answer.
“It was wonderful,” she said. Angry, jerk-face, camera-breaking bartenders aside, she added mentally.
Fiona pushed her wild curls out of her face where the wind caught them. “Now listen, it can get awful lonely up at that cottage all by yourself. Why don’t you come over for Sunday dinner? Alison and Róisín always come for my roast. Give you a break from the whistling wind and the sound of rain.”
Cordelia was delighted by the offer. Alison would be there and she could finally meet Róisín, if she still hadn’t by then. Sunday was five days away – it would be nice to have something to look forward to.
