Page 55 of An Irish Summer

“Now you’re getting it,” he said. “The Duke and Duchess of Manchester especially fancied this one.”

“What’s their story?”

“I’m glad you asked. The duke wasn’t much of anything, but his wife, Helena, was a wealthy American. Her da practically funded their whole lives here.”

“Nice gig for the duke, huh?”

“Except they changed nearly everything in the castle. They made tons of renovations, which the locals felt disrespected the legacy left by the Henrys, so the duke and duchess were mostly hated by the townspeople.”

“Why did everyone care what they did with their house?” I asked.

“Haven’t you noticed?” Collin said. “Everyone in Ireland cares deeply about everyone else’s business.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed,” I said. “One of the many things I’ve learned from you since I’ve moved here.”

He flashed a smile. “They also probably hated that she was American,” he added after a moment.

“What’s wrong with being American?” I asked.

“Depends who you ask. Some would say they’re greedy, or ignorant, or self-loathing.”

“And the Irish have it all figured out?”

“Look around, Chels,” he said. “People are happy here. We know a thing or two about work-life balance. Doesn’t hurt that there’s a pub around every corner, but my statement stands.”

I sighed, and his smile told me he knew he had me. Peoplewerehappy here. And it wasn’t just because of the pubs.

“I guess I can’t argue with that,” I said.

“Finally.” He smiled.

“Thanks, Collin. For today, and the past couple weeks. I know I was difficult when I first got here, but I’m glad you forced me to get over myself.”

“Someone had to do it.”

“I’m trying to be nice!” I exclaimed, and he held his hands up in surrender.

“Don’t mention it, Chels. It’s been grand.”

“Maybe your life is actually perfect.”

He cleared his throat so suddenly I almost jumped, but he said nothing. Only offered an awkward half smile, motioning in the direction of the exit. His mood shifted so quickly I was certain it must have been because of something I said, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. I was beginning to understand life here. That was what he wanted, wasn’t it?

I walked wordlessly beside Collin to the truck, resisting the urge to say anything that would break the silence. Or make things worse. Instead, I followed his lead, settling in for the drive back to Galway with little more than the sound of the radio and the gears turning in my brain.

About halfway through the drive, he finally spoke. “My life isn’t perfect, you know.”

“What?”

“You said before that my life was perfect, but it’s not.”

I’d offended him with a compliment?

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it,” I said, turning to face him even though he was looking at the road. “Only that I really do think it’s great.”

He blew out a breath, and I waited. “I know, I know. That’s what normal people usually mean when they say something like that. It’s just, that’s what my family always says, only they don’t mean it the way you mean it. They say it like a dig at me. Like I left the family home to go live my perfect life, but they know it hasn’t been perfect and isn’t now, so they mean for it to sting. But you didn’t.” I kept waiting, in case he wanted to say anything else. I was beginning to realize while it was rare for Collin to be anything but positive, he had some skeletons just like the rest of us, and I wanted to give him space to air them out. “Sorry about that,” he said after another minute.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” I said. “I’m sorry about your family. That doesn’t seem fair to you.”

---