Flying by the Seat of My Knickers Read online

  “I’m sorry.”

  “If your ex is stalking you, it’s no wonder Rachel doesn’t want you out walking alone.”

  My body went rigid. “Rachel doesn’t know about my ex. And I’m sure he’s not here. It’s just my imagination running wild.”

  He looked skeptical.

  “You have to promise not to say anything.”

  “How can I not say—”

  “Promise,” I demanded. “And don’t ever mention this again. Pretend like it never happened.”

  His defeated sigh ended in a cough. “Fine, on one condition.”

  “What?” I said hesitantly, not in the mood for cutting deals.

  “Let me take you back to the hotel.”

  I nodded faintly.

  I was a hot mess, getting worse rather than better. I’d lost my ability to think rationally. My first instinct should have been that a mugger, not my ex, had been following me. My ex was not in Dublin. He wouldn’t hurt me, if for no other reason than it would hurt his career and people’s perception of him as a great guy. I had to stop letting him control my life when he wasn’t even around. It felt like everyone was in control of my life except me!

  I needed to control my life!

  * * *

  Declan couldn’t see well enough to walk, and needed to shower off the pepper spray ASAP, so we took a taxi back to the hotel. I apologized again, which at least broke the awkward silence between us. He paid the taxi fare, making me feel even worse, but I didn’t have money to argue.

  When we walked into the hotel, I gasped at the sight of his puffy, bloodshot eyes and red inflamed skin.

  “That bad, is it?” he asked.

  I shook my head, looking away, praying we didn’t see anyone we knew, especially Rachel.

  We rode the elevator up together in silence. Declan said good night when he got off, but avoided my gaze.

  Hopefully, I could trust Declan not to mention this evening to Rachel or me again. He was undoubtedly curious why I’d be blasting my ex with pepper spray. Although after all my screwups and going berserk over the walking tour, he probably thought I was a total head case. I’d have crashed and burned day one without his help. And that was the thanks he got for once again coming to my rescue. Being blasted with a debilitating spray.

  I tossed my shopping bags on the bed. Still shaking and on an adrenaline rush, I popped a sleeping pill and made a cup of chamomile tea to relax. I placed the mug on my Coffey coaster. I attached the Coffey pin to my purse. I had no energy to write in my travel journal. Besides, what was I going to write about? The first time I’d zapped someone with pepper spray? The first time I’d received a gift amenity, ate it, and it turned out not to be mine? First time…

  Stop reliving the day!

  I opened my e-mail to find one from Mom. Aunt Teri wasn’t sure where she’d stashed the letters, but she would try to find them. She didn’t own a scanner, so she’d have to photocopy them and stick them in the mail. The only public photocopier in her small town was at the library, open two days a week. For the love of God. She only lived an hour from my parents. Couldn’t Mom drive over and pick up the letters if Teri found them?

  If my aunt did find them.

  Mom didn’t mention her grandparents’ names. Did that mean she didn’t know their names or she’d forgotten to answer my question? Or she didn’t want to learn about her mother’s past? Yet she’d been going through old photos and had attached one of Grandma and Theresa, who the family had assumed was merely a friend until finding the letters. It was the only photo from Grandma’s life in Ireland. Mom noted the date on the back read 1935 and Grandma was nineteen. I used my phone’s calculator to determine she’d been born in 1916. Grandma had also written that her dress was pink, her hat cream with a pink silk rose.

  I opened the attachment to find a yellowed black-and-white photo of two slender, young women wearing bright smiles and mid-length dresses made with flowing fabric, probably chiffon. Long strands of beads hung around their necks, and cloche hats and light-colored, shoulder-length wavy hair framed their faces. Grandma had been quite the fashion diva and beautiful. I never knew Rachel and I had Grandma’s heart-shaped face, which age and plumper features had softened.

  A crowd of dressed-up people mingled behind them, in front of a church. Was it a family wedding? I scanned the crowd for possible relations who resembled Grandma or her sister. The faces weren’t clear.

  Grandma had looked so happy. What had happened? What had her family done that was so awful she’d claimed they were all dead? No matter how bad things got between Rachel and me, she’d never claim I was dead.

  Would she?

  The sleeping pill was kicking in, making the photo a blur. I double-checked that I’d locked the door. I grabbed the desk chair, preparing to wheel it over to the door, then stopped.

  Not tonight.

  My ex, Andy, was done controlling my life.

  “Andy.”

  I spoke his name out loud with confident determination, proving I could do it. I could say his name without throwing up. I refused to be one of those women who suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder for years, or even worse, forever! Martha had been encouraging me to join her women’s therapy group. I hadn’t gone, because the thought of spilling my guts to strangers gave me panic attacks. However, confiding in strangers now seemed easier than confiding in loved ones. After all, many of the women were in a similar situation as me and shared the same feelings. And maybe once I was comfortable openly discussing my emotions, I’d have an easier time telling people I knew.

  I e-mailed Martha, inquiring when the next group met.

  I let out a whoosh of air, dropping back in my chair, relieved yet nervous over having sent the e-mail. For now, I had to remind myself…

  I was right.

  I was strong.

  I was worthy.

  Andy could Póg Mo Thóin, as my undies said.

  I put the Kiss My Ass undies on the bathroom counter for tomorrow. I should have bought a dozen pairs.

  Who’d have thought undies could be so empowering?

  Chapter Fourteen

  The next morning, an e-mail from Martha informed me that her therapy group was meeting the following week. She was proud of me for taking this critical step toward recovery. A nervous feeling fluttered in my chest, but I replied I’d be there, and hit send before I could back out.

  I could do this.

  I had to do this.

  When I met with Martha, I could also discuss opportunities for counseling positions in Milwaukee and if I’d need a master’s degree. I stood, then dropped back down onto the chair. Why put it off? I sent Martha another e-mail inquiring about a possible counseling career. I smiled with satisfaction, proud of my can-do attitude.

  I left the maid a two-euro tip on the nightstand despite the travel letter stating Brecker was covering maid gratuities. I felt bad about rifling through her garbage in the hallway, even though I’d cleaned it up, and she’d left me more tea and lavender-scented toiletries for Martha’s shelter.

  I tied my new blue scarf around my neck. It didn’t go with my black suit and white shirt, so I put in blue dangly earrings, attempting to tie the outfit together. Most importantly, I had on my Póg Mo Thóin undies, ready to conquer the world.

  At least this job anyway.

  I arrived at the office a half hour early and breathed a sigh of relief that Rachel was alone, typing away on her laptop, a mega-sized coffee next to her. I wanted to confront her about the whole Gretchen spa fiasco yesterday and clear the air. But I didn’t think it bugged Rachel nearly as much as it did me. I’d stood up for myself, and that was what mattered.

  I had to let it go.

  “Morning,” I said with a sunny smile.

  Rachel glanced up, still typing. “Good morning.” She peered back at her computer.

  I booted up my laptop and showed her Grandma’s photo. “Mom sent me this picture of Grandma and Theresa in Ireland, from 1935. Grandma was n
ineteen, so she was born in 1916.”

  Rachel stopped typing and studied the photo. “They looked a lot alike. Love the dresses and hats. Remember when Grandma used to let us dress up in her fancy hats she always wore to church?”

  I nodded, smiling, even though I couldn’t remember the hats. I’d only been seven, and my memory sucked. I was lucky I remembered the aprons. But I really wanted to remember the hats.

  “Can you forward me the picture?”

  “Sure.” I gave her the pin I’d bought. “I popped into a gift shop last night that had a ton of Coffey stuff.”

  “How cool. Thanks.”

  Rachel held the pin between her fingers, massaging a thumb over it, as if she were trying to channel Grandma. Maybe she felt a connection to Grandma, having inherited her courage, determination, and sense of adventure. Whereas, I felt a connection, aspiring to be more like the woman I’d barely known.

  “I still don’t remember seeing her teacup since I moved.” Worry creased Rachel’s brow, and she typed a reminder in her phone to look for the teacup.

  It gave me hope that the missing teacup bothered her.

  Declan strolled in, his blue eyes no longer bloodshot, swollen, or showing any negative side effects of the pepper spray that would require an explanation. Thank God there was no permanent damage.

  He eyed my new blue scarf with a smile. “Brilliant scarf.”

  “Thanks.” Relief washed over me that he didn’t appear to hold a grudge. “Come see the picture of our grandma.”

  He joined us at my computer. “Ah, lovely snap. I have one of my granny around that era.”

  “The same grandma whose banister Zoe slid down?” I asked.

  Declan smiled reminiscently, nodding faintly.

  “Who’s Zoe?” Rachel asked.

  “My sister.”

  “You have a sister?”

  Declan nodded.

  Rachel had mentioned having worked a half-dozen meetings with Declan, yet she hadn’t known about Zoe?

  “Do you know your granny’s town yet?” he asked.

  I let out an impatient groan. “No. Not yet.”

  Declan went to schmooze VIPs at breakfast. Minutes later, Kathleen Reynolds entered the office and requested walking directions to their restaurant that evening. Rachel closed Grandma’s photo.

  “Omigosh, Caity, what a lovely scarf. Did you buy it here? It’d go perfectly with the dress I’m wearing to dinner tonight.”

  I nodded. “At a wool shop ten minutes away. Declan might recall the name.”

  “Would you like her to pick you up one?” Rachel asked.

  “Or I could take you to the shop,” I said.

  My heart raced while I stood paralyzed with fear.

  Had I just offered to take the CEO’s wife shopping?

  From the panicked look in Rachel’s eyes, I had. After finding one lost cell phone, I suddenly thought I was qualified to handle VIP needs? If I was going to prove to Rachel that I could do this job, I couldn’t avoid the attendees, not even the VIPs.

  Kathleen smiled brightly. “That’d be great. You’re the same size as my daughter, Alyssa. I’d love to have your help picking out some sweaters for her. If you have the time, of course.”

  “Absolutely,” I said. I could see the hesitation on Rachel’s face, afraid to send me off with the CEO’s wife.

  Not as afraid as I was to go off with the CEO’s wife. One wrong turn and we might end up in a sketchy area. Getting mugged. Getting—

  “Could you meet me in the lobby at nine?” Kathleen asked.

  I plastered on a perky smile. “Sure, see you then.”

  She left, and I stifled a distressed squeak.

  Rachel’s gaze darted to me. “What were you thinking, offering to take her shopping?”

  I shrugged—no clue what I’d been thinking! “I thought it would be a nice thing to do. That she’d appreciate the special attention.”

  “I’m sure she does, but it’s not like you’re in Milwaukee, a city you actually know.” She shook her head in disbelief, blowing out a frustrated sigh, then regained her professional composure. “Doesn’t matter now. We’ll figure it out. Do you remember how to get to the store?”

  “Not exactly. But Declan does.”

  Rachel phoned Declan and asked him to report to the office pronto. He arrived within minutes, and she explained the situation. We determined that using my phone’s map app would be insanely expensive. So Declan highlighted the route to the shop on a city map.

  “Are you sure you’re clear on how to get there?” Rachel asked.

  “Yes,” I said with way more confidence than I felt.

  “Reading a map might be confusing when you don’t know Dublin.” Rachel looked at Declan. “Maybe you should write out the directions. Like, take a left onto this street, then go two blocks to this street, et cetera.”

  How about Declan just went with and held my hand crossing the street? Or better yet, he could put me on one of those leashes parents led their kids around on at the zoo or amusement park, to make sure I didn’t get lost.

  Rachel’s phone rang on her desk, and she reluctantly stepped away to answer it.

  “Told you that scarf looks brilliant on you. Glad you bought it, aren’t you now?”

  No. Because now I had to take the CEO’s wife shopping. I wanted to ask Declan to take her. He knew the store’s location. But after yesterday’s blowup over the walking tour, demanding he back off, and then pepper spraying him, I couldn’t play the damsel in distress.

  I had to prove I could do this myself.

  Hopefully, I could.

  Declan gave me a reassuring smile. “Talk to her like a regular person, not like she’s the bloody Queen of England. Just be yourself. You’ll be grand.”

  Omigod, I was going to have to talk to her.

  I’d been so worried about walking her to the store, I hadn’t even thought about what I’d say to her. What if I couldn’t think of anything to discuss and we wandered around Dublin in awkward silence? Even worse, what if I said something stupid or unprofessional?

  Declan’s gaze narrowed with concern. “Would you like me to take her?”

  My panic was obviously transparent. But did he think I was afraid to be on the streets with the CEO’s wife or my ex on the loose? Or that I wasn’t capable of doing it?

  Stop looking freaked out!

  “Thanks, but she wants me to try on sweaters for her daughter, and you probably aren’t the same size. I’ll try hard not to wander into a sketchy area.” I laughed off the possibility with more of a nervous giggle than an amused one.

  “You’d have to wander pretty far from here to hit a dodgy area.”

  That eased a little bit of the tension in my neck.

  Declan slid a discreet glance toward Rachel, still on the phone, then leaned in and whispered, “Can’t go as bad as the time I nearly killed a CEO.”

  My gaze narrowed. “Literally? On purpose?”

  A mysterious glint sparkled in his blue eyes, and he walked out.

  I couldn’t believe he’d left me hanging like that! But it did make me feel better. Unless I tripped and accidentally pushed Kathleen in front of a double-decker bus, I didn’t foresee me causing her death. Although I had to remember to look in the opposite direction for oncoming traffic, or I might walk her out in front of a bus.

  Rachel set down her phone and waved me over, undoubtedly wanting to drill me on the directions to the shop.

  “Watch out for Declan,” she said.

  My gaze narrowed in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

  “The whole ‘that scarf looks brilliant on you.’ Not that it doesn’t. He’s a nice guy but a total player. I’ve heard stories.”

  I rolled my eyes. “From Gretchen, I’m sure.”

  “And several others.”

  Several others? That was kind of what I had figured.

  “Don’t worry. There’s nothing going on between us.”

  Rachel’s instincts h
ad been dead-on about my ex, or rather Andy. Was she also right about Declan? I couldn’t imagine ever again trusting a guy or my judgment of one. Didn’t matter. There seriously was nothing going on. Hopefully, Declan had better morals when it came to keeping secrets than he did with keeping his pants on.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Luckily, Kathleen talked nonstop our entire walk to the shop, so I didn’t have to make idle chitchat. I was half listening, needing to stay focused on our route. The nervous flutter in my chest finally subsided when I spotted the familiar green storefront with lovely wool sweaters in the window. I’d escorted Kathleen to the shop without making one wrong turn or stepping into traffic. Phew.

  We entered the shop, and I headed straight for the stack of scarves. No blue scarf. I rifled through the scarves, making sure one wasn’t hidden. Would Rachel expect me to give Kathleen mine? I didn’t want to give up my scarf. I wasn’t sure how far Rachel would go for a VIP.

  A young salesclerk eyed the scarf disaster but gave me a cheery smile, assuring me she had more blue scarves in back. She went in search of them. Within minutes, she returned with two blue scarves. Kathleen took one for herself and one for her daughter, Alyssa. She also picked out a brown-and-blue plaid scarf that went nicely with her stylish outfit—dark jeans, a brown tweed blazer, navy shirt, and brown boots. I felt like a dork next to her in my black-and-white uniform with my blue scarf that didn’t match. She had me try on a maroon wool poncho for Alyssa. I snuggled into the cozy garment, not wanting to take it off. The color looked brilliant with my auburn hair, as Declan would say. Unable to fork over a hundred and fifty euros for a poncho, I reluctantly slipped it off and handed it to Kathleen.

  She insisted on buying me something for my troubles. I assured her that wasn’t necessary. And I didn’t want to lose my job by accepting gifts if it was frowned upon. She pushed the matter until I finally agreed to an inexpensive purple wool scarf. Surely Rachel would be okay with that.