Page 29 of The Matchmaker
“I know that,” I say. “We’re bringing it back.”
“But the reason it ended was because people stopped coming,” Bridget says, her forehead scrunched in confusion. “What’s going to make them come this time?”
“Wewill,” I say, spreading my arms wide. “With everyone’s help, we’re going to put on the best festival in the country. St. Patrick himself won’t know what hit him.”
I say the last part a little too cheerfully and Granny gestures at me from where she sits near the front, making a subtletone it downmotion with her hands.
“Look, we’ve been talking for ages about ways to bring life back to the village,” I say. “This festival used to be one of the highlights of the year. If we pull this off, we might not just save the very pub we’re sitting in now, but also show people what makes small communities so great. We need to remind them that we’re here and that we deserve to be.”
Danny’s shaking his head before I’m even finished. “I just don’t see how this is going to work. I mean no offense, Katie, but there’s no way you’ll be able to go up against Glenmill on your own. You’re just a bartender.”
Granny whips around faster than I’ve ever seen her move. “And what’s wrong with being a bartender?”
Danny, understandably, looks scared. “Nothing, I—”
“Do you think it’s an easy job staying on your feet all night and putting up with the likes of you?”
“I just mean—”
“When you have a better idea, I’ll be glad to give you the floor, but until then, you can keep your mouth quiet and drink the beer my granddaughter so expertly poured for you.”
“Granny,” I warn, but she just ignores me.
“Everyone’s gotten far too comfortable if you ask me,” she says loudly. “Expecting everything to stay the same when you don’t even fight for it. You’d all be lost with Kelly’s and you know it. I thought I knew the people in this village, I thought I was proud to call them my neighbors. But all I’m seeing is a bunch of people giving up.”
Frank frowns. “That’s a little harsh, Maeve.”
“It’s the truth,” she snaps, as people start to argue among themselves.
“And I don’t plan to do it on my own,” I say, raising my voice. “Like I said, if we all work together, we’ll be able to…”
Yeah, they’ve stopped listening.
I look hopelessly to where Gemma and Nush sit at the bar, not knowing what to do, but they just motion for me to continue. I don’t. It’s useless. Even if I did know what to say, it’s impossible to be heard over everyone. At least it is until Nush’s bell rings sharply, cutting through the arguments. But it’s not Nush who grips it this time. It’s Adam.
“Alright, everyone shut up,” he yells, and I fight back a wince. There’s a reason he doesn’t do a lot of public speaking. “Okay, good,” he says, when the room quietens. “Now look, when Dad died, he…well, it’s no secret he thought I’d maybe want to get rid of this place. Take the money and run. But it didn’t cross my mind for a second. This was his pub. And it was my grandfather’s pub andhisfather’s pub, no matter what a piece of paper might say. It’s as much a part of me as my memories of them are, and I don’t want to let that go. But I need help. I need your help. And right now, Katie’s the only one trying to keep this place alive. If she thinks we can pull this off, then I believe her. We’re not going to stop them from building that hotel. But we are going to stop them from tearing down this pub. At the very least, I want to try. I have to try.”
Everyone stares at him.Istare at him. This is the sincerest Adam’s ever been, and it’s kind of unnerving, if not appreciated.
When no one says anything else, he meets my gaze, nodding an apology for panicking earlier.
“Go on, Katie,” he says.
One by one, every head in the room swings back to me, but what little confidence I had has vanished, and I look to my friends with a clearhelpexpression,as my forehead breaks out in a sweat.
“Show of support for Katie’s idea,” Nush calls and raises a hand in the air. I try not to show how relieved I am as a surprising number of people join her. Gemma, Adam, Granny. Bridget does as well. As does Frank, who gives me a smile when I glance at him. But it’s the more reluctant ones that I watch out for until, slowly, the fifty or so assembled people in the room all raise their palms.
“Well, there you have it,” Nush says. “A legally binding agreement.”
Frank frowns. “It’s not—”
Nush rings the bell, cutting him off, and people get up, stretching before they head to the bar. The bar that I scurry back to, seeing as how I’m technically on the clock.
“Now what?” Gemma asks, as I join her and Nush by the counter.
“Easy,” I say, grabbing a handful of glasses. “Now we just need to pull it off.”
“Katie,” Gemma groans, but I just smile at her, undeterred.
