Page 86 of One Night Only
“I can’t believe that’s your coffee order.”
“Why what’s yours?”
“Strong. Black. Normal.”
“I’ll remember that for next time.”
Next time? Before I can protestthatlittle remark, he hands me the other cup.
“Trust me,” he says, but I don’t, so I pry open the lid first.
“Normal coffee,” I say, tasting it.
“I might have had a little sip.”
“I don’t mind a little sip.” I breathe in the scent as he starts to root through his messenger bag. “I see you got your watch back.”
“I did.” He holds up his wrist. “An extremely disappointing experience. Your roommate didn’t throw herself at me like you led me to believe.”
“She was afraid of coming on too strong.”
He smirks, retrieving a crammed keychain. “Try to ignore the smell.” He unlocks the door and leads me inside before I can ask any further questions. The lobby is empty and dark, shut for the weekend. A pile of mail sits on a metal table and several unclaimed delivery boxes lie in the corner. The smell he was referring to is a stale, warm odor of an old building with poor ventilation. I immediately hate everything about it.
“I know,” he says as he leads me up a dingy stairwell.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“But I still know. Just keep ignoring your surroundings, please and thank you. It’s only temporary. A character-building experience.” We reach the third floor, where he rummages around for another key. The only sign on the door is a piece of paper taped to the wood.heritage toursis written on it in black Sharpie and by now my expectations are extremely low, so it’s not with some small bit of surprise when he lets me in and I find the office…not awful.
It’s small but clean. There’s one window that lets in little to no light, but Declan’s forgone the harsh fluorescent look from the bare bulbs above for a series of desk lamps that he now switches on one by one. A jumble of ancient-looking AC units and electric heaters are shoved in a corner of the room and dying green shrubs try gamely to decorate the otherwise bare space. The only other furniture inside are three desks. One is a makeshift kitchen area but the other two, clearly for Mika and Declan, are filled with guidebooks and rolled-up blueprints.
“You can see why we’re moving,” he says as I walk in ahead of him. “The new money will help us cover the overheads for a larger space and more staff.”
“I’m not judging. You’ve got to start somewhere.”
“We started in the bar actually. But Mika couldn’t concentrate. And I kept being called away. Do you want the tour?”
“Sure.”
He kicks the door shut and comes to stand beside me. Together we look at the office. “That’s it. Tour done.”
I roll my eyes and move closer to a series of photos tacked to the wall. “You’re an all-inclusive agency?”
He nods. “Transport, accommodation, guides. We’ll cover all the usual sights, but our hook is the heritage. We’ll research the genealogy and put together a tailored trip for people based on their family history.”
“Sounds expensive.”
“We can be flexible with budgets. Some people will just want to visit an area. Others will want the whole shebang. I’m just hoping they’ll be the rich ones.”
I wander over to another photo display but he doesn’t follow. I have the feeling he’s nervous.
“It’s only Mika and me right now,” he says. “But we’re hoping to open an Irish office next year and expand here in the meantime. Get some people who know what they’re doing as opposed to the two of us.”
“It looks like you know what you’re doing.”
“Careful Sarah,” he says with a small smile. “That almost sounds like a compliment.”
“You’re going to do all this and run a bar?”
