Page 101 of An Irish Summer

“No, it’s, uh, no,” I said. “I didn’t.” I was too stunned to pretend I wasn’t. After all the fuss about me leaving, they went through the trouble of putting together this portfolio and recommending me for the job?

“Seems like you made quite the impression,” she said. “Which makes me wonder, Chelsea, why did you leave?”

“The summer ended,” I said automatically. Another fact. “It was the end of my contract.”

“Doesn’t sound like it had to be,” she said. “Let me ask you one more question. Not as a potential employer, but woman to woman.” She leaned her forearms on the table, bringing her face closer to mine. “Is this really what you want?”

In the silence that followed, we both had our answer. There was only one thing I wanted, and once again, everyone had seen it before me. But I was done being the last to know.

“Ms. Gantz, I’m so sorry.”

“I understand,” she said, a smile creasing her eyes. “I thinkyou would have been great here based on this portfolio. I really do. And maybe our paths will cross again someday. But it doesn’t seem like you would be happy here. At least not as happy as you’d be there. And that really is what’s important, isn’t it?”

“I’m so embarrassed,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I shouldn’t have wasted your time. And I should have had this conversation with myself a long time ago.” I tried to laugh, and the warmth in her eyes glowed brightly. “Please know how sorry I am.”

“No apologies necessary,” she said with a smile. “Only to yourself, perhaps.” Her kindness made me feel even guiltier for wasting her time.

“It’s a beautiful hotel,” I said as I gathered my things, slightly nostalgic already for a life that could have been.

“Ah, this old thing?” She waved her hand around. “It isn’t much. You won’t be missing anything.”

I could have hugged her for how easy she was making this experience, which for her was a minor inconvenience and me a monumental life change.

“Thank you,” I said, praying she knew how much I meant it. “Not only for your time, but for your forgiveness. And for the push in the right direction.”

“That’s what hospitality is about, isn’t it? Taking care of each other?”

I was too overwhelmed to respond properly, so instead I followed her to the door and tried to contemplate what would happen when I left. “Take care, Chelsea,” she said, shaking my hand once more.

“You too, Ms. Gantz.”

The conference room door clicked behind me, and my legs carried my back through the lobby and out to my car independent of my brain. I sat behind the wheel for a few minutes resisting the urge to scream at the top of my lungs or burst into tears.

Where do you go when you realize your dream isn’t your dream at all? When you realize your new dream is the exact thing you thought you never wanted?

When you thought your ideal future was the metropolitan city you’d grown up in, a senior position and a husband and a picket fence by thirty-five, and instead it was an unruly hostel on the Irish coast with a patchwork family and no real plan beyond each day?

If I knew one thing, it was that the answer wasn’tback to your parents’ house. Ada would know what to do. I picked up the phone, and she answered on the second ring.

“Welcome home!” she shouted as soon as she picked up. “How was the interview? Don’t answer that, actually. Are we still on for drinks? I want to hear all about it in person. Was that a sigh? What’s wrong? Was it horrible?”

I laughed, and I could almost hear her relax on the other end of the phone. “It was... something,” I said. “Are you busy? Or can you meet me at the bar right now?”

“I’m on my way,” she said, and I almost laughed. There was no better friend than Ada. “You’re freaking me out, Chels.”

“I’m fine,” I said, surprised that I actually meant it. “I’ll see you at Jefferson’s in a few. I’ll tell you everything, promise.”

I was already on a barstool when Ada came crashing through the door, hair a mess and tote bag falling off her shoulder. She ordered a vodka Diet Coke from the bartender with a wide smile before snapping her attention to me, brows furrowed and smile turned into a line.

“I think I have to go back to Ireland,” I blurted before she could say anything. And for what might have been the first time in her entire life, Ada was speechless.

“Please say something,” I said after an agonizing minute of silence.

“You need to go back, like, for good?” she asked, drink halfway to her mouth.

“I do,” I said, trying to maintain some resolve. “I mean, not forever. But at least for right now.”

“What happened at the interview?”

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