I wiped my hands on a tea towel and forced a smile. “You couldn’t have left that one in the bag and pretended you lost it, could you?”

Connor chuckled nervously. “Not how the postal service works, pet. Besides, you’d only hunt me down.”

“You’re right. I would.” I wanted to cry. I really, really did. In my heart, I knew that our chances had been slim, but there had been hope. Now, depending on what this letter said, there wouldn’t even be that.

Connor hesitated, then took a small clipboard from his bag and slid it toward me. “You’ll need to sign for it, lass.”

Of course, I did. Because when you put your name on the line to fight for your village, they make damn sure you were the first to hear the bad news.

I scrawled my name on the clipboard and handed it back to him. Connor reached into his bag and pulled out the envelope, its edges crisp and official, with the County Clare Council’s seal staring up at me like a smug bastard. He held it out to me but didn’t let go right away.

“I’m gonna stay right here with you when you read it,” he said firmly. “Y’know, in case it’s….”

“Bad news?” I finished for him.

He shrugged, sympathy in his eyes. He was a resident of Ballybeg, so it wasn’t like this was a tragedy only for me; it would hurt all of us. “Come on, Dee, you’ve weathered worse. This ain’t nothing.”

I sighed, taking the envelope from him. “Alright, but if this ruins my day, Connor Kelly, you’re buying the first pint tonight.”

“Fair enough,” he said with a faint grin, parking his arse on a barstool.

I turned the envelope over in my hands, running my thumb along the edge of the seal.

“I should wait until I’ve had a whiskey,” I muttered.

“It’s barely ten.” Connor raised an eyebrow.

“What’s your point?” I quipped, tearing the envelope open with a swift motion before I could talk myself out of it.

I yanked the letter out, the County Clare Council’s official seal glaring at me like a bad joke. I scanned the opening line. I was expecting it, but my stomach dropped all the same. It was one thing to be afraid of what was to come and another to know it was here.

“Well?” Connor straightened. “What’s it say, love?”

Before I could answer, Ronan came through the kitchen door, wiping his hands on his apron. He glanced between me and Connor. “What’s this then?”

I handed him the letter without a word, too busy trying to swallow the lump forming in my throat.

Ronan squinted at the text.

“Read it out, will ya, lad,” Connor requested.

“We regret to inform you…blah, blah, blah…regardless of environmental concerns, there is significant economic opportunity for County Clare….” His voice trailed off, and he swore under his breath. “Bloody bastards. They’re rejecting the petition. Ignoring it entirely. They’re going to vote to approve the resort.”

Connor sighed. “Feckin’ hell.”

I crossed my arms tightly over my chest as if I was holding my pain together. I’d lose the farm. I didn’t have enough to pay the taxes on it, and they wanted to buy it, pave it, put a feckin’ parking lot on it.

Ronan slammed the letter onto the bar, his face red with frustration. “Do they not care? About the land? The cliffs? The bloody history of this place?”

“They care about money, Ronan. And there’s a lot of it tied up in this resort.” I felt my legs wobble, so I sat on a stool next to Connor.

Connor frowned. “What will we do now?”

I blinked at him, shaking my head. “I don’t know. What else is there to do?”

“We can’t give up.” Ronan put his hand on my shoulder.

We would, though, I thought.