Page 16 of An Irish Summer

“No,” I said, perhaps a bit too quickly, nervous she had the wrong idea. “I mean yes, drinks were fine, but we were just—”

“Found this one on a walk at sunrise,” Collin said, gesturing to me with his thumb and grabbing an apple off the table. Flo swatted his hand as he disrupted her display, and he took a large bite an inch from her face. The juice from the apple clung to his lips, and I hated myself for noticing.

“Ah, enjoying Galway, are we?” she asked me.

“Just trying to get a little fresh air before work, that’s all,” I said. Why was everyone so concerned with whether I liked Galway?

“She’s going to be enjoying it soon enough,” Collin said with his mouth full. “Taking her out on Friday.”

“Notoutout, like on a date or anything,” I corrected, though Flo hadn’t said a word. “Just a tour.”

“She wishes it was a date,” Collin said, tossing the core of the apple into the trash like a basketball.

“Like hell I do,” I said.

“Oh, Chelsea.” He laughed a smug-ass laugh, shaking his head just slightly enough to notice. Whether he was unfazed or faking it was impossible to tell, which only flustered me even more.

“Have a nice day at work, ladies,” he said without giving me enough time to think of a witty response, then disappeared down the hallway.

“Is he like this with everyone?” I ventured once he was out of earshot.

“For the most part,” she said, and while I wasn’t sure what kind of response I was looking for, there was no denying the inexplicable pang of what might have been disappointment. “Some more than others. You’ll get used to it.” We shook our heads and settled into our work. Flo continued arranging fresh fruit and stirring bowls of porridge. I made myself comfortablebehind the desk and tried to force myself not to care that Collin treated everyone the same.

Once the phone started ringing, it hardly stopped. Who knew this tiny hostel in the west of Ireland would get so much activity? I’d soon taken a handful of bookings for the next few weeks, answered some questions about our “amenities,” and fumbled around with a map while trying to give directions to a lost German couple.

After the phone lines settled in the late afternoon and the bookings were up-to-date in the computer, I ventured into my own journey of trying to sort my life back home. I had just opened Google and searched “hospitality jobs Boston” when Lars appeared over my shoulder, slapping his big hand on the desk beside me.

“Leaving us already, are you? I thought we had until the end of the summer, at least.”

I forced a laugh despite my frustration that he was snooping and also interrupting. “We do,” I said, trying not to think about that length of time, “but I still need to have something lined up for when I leave.”

“And how’s the search going?”

“This is as far as I’ve gotten.”

“And as far as you’re going to get, I’m afraid,” he said. “We have a hen do coming in this weekend, and they’re looking for something special.”

“What does that mean for me?” I asked, fearful of his answer. “And what on earth is a hen do?”

“It’s like, uh...” He snapped his fingers looking for a phrase I might know. “Bachelor party? But with ladies.”

“Ah, a bachelorette,” I said.

“Right,” he confirmed. “Didn’t you used to do stuff like this back in Boston? Parties and whatever?”

“I did, but only after I’d been working at the bed-and-breakfast for years. Not on my first day,” I said.

“I tried to warn you.” Lars grinned. “As soon as you sign a contract here, you’re as much a part of this as anyone else, which means you aren’t exempt from picking up the odd jobs. And in this case, we think you’re the right person.”

Intimidated as I might have been by the task on my first day, I couldn’t deny I was flattered. And throwing myself into planning an event would be the perfect distraction.

“Thanks, Lars. I’d be happy to,” I said before I lost my resolve. It was just a hen do at a hostel. How hard could it be?

“You’re a star,” he said, punching me lightly in the shoulder. “Knew we could count on you.”

I was formatting the itinerary before he even left the room.

An hour of googling later and I was armed with a list of Galway’s greatest pubs, all of which seemed to have live music, along with a single winery that offered a tasting, two spas located in hotels, a boat cruise, the website of a local photographer, a coupon for a group booking at a hair salon, and the contact information for a party bus company. Maybe I wasn’t as rusty as I thought.

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