Page 35 of An Irish Summer

“Bittersweet,” he said. “I quite like hearing you talk.”

If he kept this up, I’d constantly be at a loss for things to say.

“Well,” I tried, “maybe I’ll be able to do it more if I can get this work done.”

“Go on, then.” Collin nodded in the direction of the staff wing. A few guests were beginning to settle in, and I looked around for others. “I’ll press play once everyone is in here, don’t worry.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“You can repay me by coming round the pub later.”

“Don’t push it.”

“A bloke can dream.”

“Good night, Collin,” I said, channeling some semblance of resolve and turning to leave the lobby.

“See you at the pub,” he called after me. I could hear his smile, and I kept my back to him so he couldn’t see mine.

By the time I’d opened my laptop to a handful of job postings on open tabs, I was able to refocus. For the night, anyway. With an updated résumé that was slowly becoming less of a lie, I was trying to feel confident about my prospects.

I kept an eye on the clock so I’d be downstairs before the end of the movie and used the time to write and revise different versions of my cover letter: ones for event planning, ones for general managing, vague ones for front-of-house and other odd jobs.

Each somehow harder to write than the last.

Not only was it nearly impossible to effectively brag about myself without sounding somehow both arrogant and insecure, it was even more challenging to face my career goals, let alone express them in writing.

Why did I really want this job? Why did I want any of these jobs?DidI even want any of these jobs?

I dropped my head to my keyboard, wondering if the random collection of letters typed by my forehead could arrange themselves into some semblance of answers to my questions.

No. I knew myself. Of course I wanted these jobs. I’d always wanted these jobs.

Only I hadn’t always wanted to be a full-time event planner, had I? I always wanted a job in hospitality in the city, sure, but on the managerial side. Had I even ever considered leaving all the administrative stuff behind for good? Could I even hack it? And was there even a real reason it had to be in Boston?

Those questions rolled around in the back of my head like marbles, and I snapped my head up from my keyboard andtried to get back to work before I was forced to play with them.

I started with Hotel Blue, then followed with a commercial chain near Faneuil Hall, and a new tourist center on the harbor. Just in case. Somehow it felt like the summer had only just begun and yet I was running out of time to be picky.

I picked up my phone before I could speculate on what might happen if I didn’t find anything and shot Ada a text, as I’d promised to update her on the hunt.

Three solid applications out tn. Keep your fingers and toes crossed. We need all the luck we can get.

She answered before I even put my phone back down.

We don’t need luck. You have talent. It’s the employers who would be lucky to have you.

I read her text a few times, trying to believe it, before sending out two more applications for good measure, closing my laptop, and heading back downstairs. They were both straightforward managing positions, without much room for creativity, but the pay was decent and they were centrally located, so I definitely couldn’t complain.

When I got back into the lobby, I was surprised to see at least fifteen people sprawled in the seating area. There were a few crushed beer cans between the beanbags, and the credits were just beginning to roll. And Collin was standing in the back, exactly where I’d left him.

“You stayed?” I whispered, joining him against the wall.

“Got absorbed in the film,” he whispered back. “I’m a sucker for a young Meg Ryan. This had nothing to do with you.”

“I never said it did.”

“You didn’t have to.”

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