Flying by the Seat of My Knickers Read online

  What if Rachel was unsympathetic?

  “And don’t be late again. Have a hotel wake-up call as a backup. I don’t want Gretchen and Declan to think I’m giving you special treatment because you’re my sister. If anything, you have more to prove.”

  Maybe I could start a support group with Bill Gates’s and Martha Stewart’s siblings.

  “You want to grab breakfast?” I asked.

  “I’m good.” She gestured to a protein bar and herbal supplement alongside her supersized coffee. “You go ahead.”

  I met Gretchen on my way to breakfast, heading back to the office, with a bowl of berries. She gave me a saccharine smile, which I returned and kept on walking. I joined Declan in the restaurant down the hall from the lobby—a traditional pub with an ornately carved wooden bar and Irish beer and whiskey signs. The public could access it from the street when it opened at eleven. Still early, our attendees hadn’t come down for breakfast. The scent of sizzling sausages and scrambled eggs on the sprawling buffet camouflaged the stench of stale beer.

  I skipped the sausage, which I might never eat again. The label by the next chafing dish read White and Black Pudding. The contents looked like sausage patties rather than creamy pudding.

  “Have you ever tried blood pudding?” Declan asked, appearing next to me.

  My top lip curled back. “No, and I don’t want to.”

  “It’s brilliant.” He snatched up a dark patty with tongs and put it on my plate. “It’s a staple of Ireland. You have to at least try it.” He placed a white pudding on my plate. “See which you like better.”

  I took a large portion of eggs but passed on the grilled tomatoes. The warm, mushy tomatoes didn’t look real appetizing.

  Declan placed a tomato on my plate.

  “Another staple of Ireland?”

  He nodded. “You need to experience an authentic Irish breakfast.”

  The next pan contained bacon. It looked more like Canadian bacon than the strips of crisp, greasy bacon I occasionally indulge in back home.

  Declan put two pieces on my plate. “Rashers.”

  Wicker baskets held sliced loaves of Irish brown bread, with a variety of jams, at the end of the buffet. He selected a piece of bread. I stopped him, tongs in midair.

  “I don’t do carbs.” I’d sworn off carbs two years ago. If I’d gained an ounce and no longer fit a size four, my ex would make a snide remark that we needed to start working out more.

  “You can’t visit Ireland and not eat brown bread. That’s mad. You could be deported for such an atrocity against the Emerald Isle. Besides, in this job you never know when your next meal will be.” He placed the bread on my plate.

  A guy had never encouraged me to gain weight.

  He poured tea into a dainty white china cup and placed it on a matching saucer. “And of course, no Irish breakfast is complete without tea.”

  I wasn’t a coffee drinker. Occasionally drank tea. A diet soda provided my morning caffeine fix. But when in Ireland, do as the Irish. Declan escorted me over to a corner booth, carrying my tea. A couple walked in, and he went to greet them.

  The blood pudding tasted like a spicy sausage, not as bad as it sounded. The tea was a deep golden brown. Delish. I eyed the Irish brown bread, then slathered it with black currant jam and took a bite, smiling in defiance at my ex.

  A baby step toward recovery.

  Following breakfast, I popped into the gift shop. My hand-washed cotton undies felt rough against my skin. I didn’t want to add a chafed butt to my challenges this week. After being tardy this morning, and the security snafu, I wasn’t about to ask Rachel for time off to go shopping. I hadn’t admitted my inept packing skills. And she’d made it very clear when she hired me that this was a work trip, not a vacation.

  The shop sold magazines, candy, toiletries, and souvenirs, including a pair of bright-green socks with dancing leprechauns. Thankfully, my black pants were a tad long and would hide them. The only undies option was a pair with a green shamrock that read Rub My Lucky Four Leaf Clover. Kind of racy for an upscale hotel’s gift shop, but no way I was washing out my undies in the sink every night. According to my handy exchange-rate chart, they cost eight bucks, the socks six. Expensive, but it wasn’t like I’d have free time to souvenir shop. These might be it. And they were necessities, not frivolous souvenirs.

  I forked over my credit card to the saleslady so Rachel couldn’t question my room charge on Brecker’s master account. I wanted to save the fifty bucks Dad had discreetly slipped me, fun money for my first trip abroad, for a special souvenir. I held my breath, praying my recent $300 payment had been received. I no longer did automatic monthly payments, because I didn’t know which bills I’d be able to pay monthly. The machine spit out a receipt, and I let out a relieved sigh.

  After running to my room and quickly changing, I returned to the office, where Rachel, along with Declan and Gretchen, was waiting on me to review staff responsibilities for the day. I gave her an apologetic smile and slipped onto a chair, sweeping stray wisps of hair behind my ear.

  “Gretchen will be meeting with the tour company about tonight’s dinner at Malahide Castle and the day tour to County Wicklow later in the week. Declan, I’m going to have you see off Tom Reynolds. His car is picking him up at one to go to Flanagan’s brewery. Most of the group is heading over earlier, which I’ll also have you handle.”

  “I’m seeing off their spouses’ shopping tour at 12:45, so if anyone is delayed, I won’t be able to advance his car,” Declan said. Several wives had joined their hubbies on the trip. “The cars collect them at the front, and the buses along the side entrance.”

  “Crap, that’s right. And I can’t do it. I’m meeting with the hotel then.”

  “I’ll do it,” I said.

  Rachel brushed a contemplative finger over her red lips. “I could have you see off the bus and Declan do the car.”

  “I’m fine meeting a car.” I gave her a confident, enthusiastic smile. I wanted a chance to prove to Tom Reynolds I wasn’t a total idiot after not knowing the breakfast time.

  “I know. It’s just he’s the top dog.”

  “I can do it, Rachel.”

  “All right. But this is really important. It can’t get screwed up.”

  Heat rushed up my neck and across my cheeks. Rachel’s lack of confidence in me made me look completely incompetent. If Declan and Gretchen hadn’t already questioned my job qualifications, they did now.

  I continued smiling, trying to remain positive. “It won’t.”

  Rachel nodded faintly, not looking reassured. “I’ll give you the details later. I’m going to have you shadow me this morning, give you some training. The vice president is stopping over for tonight on his way to Germany, so I need to check his suite.”

  I shoved aside my embarrassment and focused on the suite. How cool. I’d never seen a hotel suite. And it would give me a chance to watch Rachel in action, to learn a few things. She’d always been extremely organized and efficient, able to think on her feet. She was born two weeks premature. I was born a week late, after the doctor induced labor. Rachel had come out of the womb walking and potty trained. I’d been a late bloomer, walking at thirteen months and refusing to sit on the toilet until I was almost four. If I had a report card with all Bs, my parents threw a party. If Rachel received one B, a family meeting was called to order. Her punishment would be tutoring me. Maybe if my parents had set higher expectations, I’d have met them.

  Always easiest to blame the parents when your life went to shit.

  Fifteen minutes later, we stood in the seven-room suite decorated in black and white with splashes of red, larger than my parents’ ranch house, which didn’t have two bathrooms. I snapped a picture, envisioning Adam Levine shaking martinis at the wet bar while the rest of Maroon 5 partied with their groupies after a gig in Dublin.

  Rachel threw open the curtain sheers. “Look at that.”

  I stared in awe at the River Liffey lined with
brick and brightly colored buildings. A much more scenic view than the modern glass office building across the street from my room.

  She shook her head in disgust. “Seriously, how can housekeeping miss a handprint right in the middle of the window?”

  Because the housekeeper had been admiring the view of the Liffey?

  Rachel jotted down the violation on her notepad. She handed me a VIP checklist with over a hundred items to inspect, including the thickness of the ironing board pad and the minibar for competitor beers. “I’ve found undies, a vibrator, and condoms—unused ones, thank God—in nightstands, cigarettes in plants, you name it.”

  We divided and conquered. Rachel checked five rooms to my two since I was being extra careful, not wanting to miss a smudge on a mirror or a strand of hair in the shower drain. A half hour later, Rachel presented her one-page to-do list to the front desk manager, who looked a bit overwhelmed but promised to immediately address the issues. Poor guy.

  By noon, we’d made a run to the printers and completed numerous tasks. I was ready for a nap, feeling like I’d already worked a fifteen-hour day. This was Rachel’s pace from sunrise to…sunrise, since she likely never slept. I envied not only her job expertise but her stamina.

  Actually, I envied a lot about Rachel.

  Chapter Five

  I stood inside the hotel’s front entrance, my eyes peeled for a black sedan, the car’s license plate number etched on my brain. I’d been waiting a half hour. No way was I missing Tom Reynolds’s car. He was standing outside on a call.

  “Where’s the bus departing from tonight?” a man asked, startling me.

  I spun around to find the airline-kiosk guy from the night before. A better question, why wasn’t he over at Flanagan’s brewery with everyone else? We were going to Malahide Castle tonight—my first castle ever—but I didn’t know where we were departing from. Was it this guy’s mission to trip me up? Had Rachel planted him to test me? I suddenly recalled Declan mentioning the shopping tour left from the side entrance.

  “The side entrance,” I said, assuming all buses departed from there.

  “Where’s that?”

  My phone rang. Rather than Rachel checking on me, it was Mom. How was I supposed to feel independent when not only did I live with my parents, Mom expected me to check in with her daily? She didn’t know about the Craigslist encounter with my ex, yet she still worried about me being in a foreign country. I’d assured her if anything happened to me, Rachel would notify her. Once she got everyone off to their meetings.

  However, I welcomed her call. “Sorry. I have to take this,” I told the guy. I hurried over and hid behind a large marble pillar to avoid further interrogation.

  “Hey, Mom, sorry I didn’t e-mail you—”

  “They just took your car!” She sounded frantic and out of breath.

  My eyes widened, heart raced. “Someone stole my car?”

  “It was repossessed!”

  Repossessed? I’d only missed one…maybe two payments. Didn’t someone have to advise me if my car was being repossessed? Maybe the notice was in one of the many unopened envelopes I’d stashed in my desk drawer. Mom was at work when the mailman came, enabling me to intercept notices from collection agencies without her knowledge. I’d been able to defer my college loan, or I’d really be screwed.

  “There I was sitting at the kitchen table drinking my coffee, and I look up to see a tow truck in front of your car. I ran out and asked them what they thought they were doing, and they said you’re behind on payments and they were taking it. I said no way are you behind on payments, because I’d lent you money to make your last few car payments.”

  I knew borrowing money from my parents would come back to haunt me.

  “I kind of used the money for some credit card bills.” So I was able to make charges in Ireland.

  “Some credit card bills? Well, I guess you have two less bills to worry about now. Certainly don’t have to pay insurance on a car you don’t have.”

  I should have sold the car, but it wasn’t even a year old. I’d have lost a ton of money on it. Besides, it was red, sporty, and a boost to what little self-esteem I had left. I’d overextended myself trying to keep up with my ex’s lifestyle and live up to his standards. He’d been the first person who’d had high, albeit unrealistic and self-serving, expectations of me. In some twisted way, had that attracted me to him?

  “And wouldn’t you know it, Margaret brought her garbage to the street while I was out there talking to these two goons. She never puts her garbage out that early. She was being nosey. I finally asked her if maybe she didn’t want to videotape the whole thing.” She gasped. “What if it’s on that reality show your father watches? Repo Man, or whatever it’s called?”

  “I think you’d have seen the TV cameras.”

  “Thank heavens your father was already at work. He’d probably have taped the whole thing himself and sent it into that stupid show, trying to get on TV. He wouldn’t even care that we’d be the talk of the town. He’s obsessed with that show. So should we be prepared for more goons showing up and busting our kneecaps because you owe them money?”

  “Nobody is going to bust your kneecaps.” However, I hadn’t expected someone to take my car either. “I’m sorry this happened when I wasn’t home. I’m sorry you were embarrassed.”

  Mom let out a heavy sigh. “Well, Margaret certainly shouldn’t be one to cast stones, especially when it comes to cars. Her son stole that car from the church parking lot last year, during service. I mean, who does such a thing?”

  I glanced out at the drive as a shiny black sedan pulled up. Omigod, I’d forgotten about Tom Reynolds’s car. I shoved aside thoughts of my red sports car being hauled away.

  “I have to go. I’ll call you later.”

  I raced out the door, and one of my backless shoes flew off. My phone shot from my hand as I headed toward the pavement, and Tom Reynolds said, “Holy shit. I’ll have to call you back.”

  I lay on the ground, flat on my face, disoriented.

  “Are you all right?” The CEO grabbed hold of my arm and helped me up.

  I shook the daze from my head. “Ah, yeah, I’m fine.” I glanced down at my burning palms, scraped and dotted with blood. The dancing leprechauns on my shoeless foot smiled up at me. Heat exploded on my cheeks. I’d thought not knowing the breakfast hours had made me look like an idiot!

  “No worries, I’ll take care of her,” Declan said, materializing out of nowhere. “Your car’s ready, Tom.”

  And my embarrassment intensified. Declan had likely witnessed the entire scene. Tom shot me one last concerned glance as Declan escorted him to his car.

  The sedan drove off.

  Declan walked over and handed me my phone, the glass back a spiderweb of cracks. “Nothing some packaging tape won’t fix.”

  It better. I didn’t have money for a new phone.

  The doorman handed me my shoe.

  “Thanks,” I muttered, whipping the stupid shoe on the ground.

  “Brilliant socks,” Declan said, eyeing the leprechauns.

  I shoved my foot in the shoe. “You should see my underwear.”

  He gave me an intrigued smile, his gaze traveling down below my waist, lingering, as if he was envisioning my undies. Still smiling, he slowly raised his gaze and met mine.

  My cheeks burned. “That didn’t come out right. I forgot to pack socks and underwear, so I had to buy some in the gift shop, and all they had were souvenir ones, and…” I was rambling, embarrassing myself even more.

  “There’s a clothing shop up the street. I’ll take you later if we have time.”

  Hadn’t I suffered enough humiliation for the day without undies shopping with Declan?

  “If you can give me directions, that’d be great.” Maybe I’d be able to hobble to the store on my throbbing ankle. Too bad I couldn’t afford new shoes. “Thanks for your help, but I’m fine.”

  “Ah, grand, are ya?”

  He slippe
d his hands around mine and turned them over, eyeing the tiny pebbles imbedded in my blood-scratched palms. He gave my hands a gentle, comforting squeeze. I stared at my hands resting in his, a warm feeling washing over my entire body, not merely my cheeks. My shoulders relaxed, the throbbing in my ankle subsided slightly, my palms didn’t burn quite as much, and…

  Get a grip. A simple act of compassion and my heart was all aflutter? I slipped my hands from Declan’s.

  “Rachel’s going to kill me.” Since she’d warned me in front of everyone not to screw up.

  I swallowed the lump of emotion in my throat, fighting back tears. I’d just lost my car and possibly my phone. I couldn’t lose this job. Every time I thought my life had hit rock bottom, something happened to prove things could still get worse. I had to figure out how to stop taking steps backward and start moving forward with my life.

  “Can’t blame you for tripping, can she now? Besides, she’ll never know.”

  I stepped forward and flinched from the pain in my ankle.

  “Unless I have to rush you to the accident and emergency department.”

  Panic rushed through me. “No way am I going to the hospital.” Besides the fact I didn’t want Rachel to know about this, Dad’s crappy health insurance only covered me if I was on my deathbed. Another reason I needed a full-time job with benefits. I was a total klutz. At only twenty-four, I’d already suffered a broken arm, two broken toes, and a sprained wrist.

  “I once tripped down the steps of a bus while escorting a group of VIPs,” Declan said.

  “Were you okay?”

  He nodded. “Luckily, the door was closed and kept me from falling out onto the motorway at a hundred kilometers an hour.”

  My eyes widened. “The bus was moving?”

  “Yeah, it was bloody moving. I was standing up front talking about the dinner. The bus exited too fast, and I lost my footing.”

  I giggled at visions of Declan tumbling down the steps and lying there, disoriented like I’d been, watching the road zip past, inches from his face. My faint giggle grew into laughter. I hadn’t laughed so hard in a long time.