Chapter 3
Once they were out of the city, Claire took the time to view Ireland’s great beauty. Though it was foggy, she was still able to view the green farmland, some of it filled with dairy cows, others dotted with sheep, some shaved and others waiting for their turn at the shears. She’d get the family some good wool socks while she was here, she thought, as they passed yet another farm. Colorado winters were brutal.
Man-made stone walls separated areas of each farm they passed. Often, in the middle of a lavish field of green, there stood more of the man-made stone fences, with a small bit of what once might have been a small cottage, or possibly a church. Ancient cemeteries, some she knew were hundreds and hundreds of years old, dotted the countryside, with the occasional Celtic cross. Claire knew a bit of the cross’s history, but in her mind now she summed it up as a cross surrounded by a ring. When and if the opportunity presented itself, Claire would return to Ireland, maybe even bring her family along, and together they could explore their homeland together as a family. Powerscourt Gardens, the Blarney Castle, and the Cliffs of Moher were just a few of the places she wanted to visit when time permitted.
“So how long will ya be here?”
Good question. If Donald Flynn wasn’t dying, she might leave tomorrow, but she wasn’t going to tell this to Flynn’s employee. “I’m not sure at this point. I promised my family I’d be home for Christmas.” And she would do her best to keep that promise.
“Aye, you don’t want to be away from the wee ones, especially this time of year.”
“No, I don’t have children. I live in California, one of my brothers and his wife and children live in Colorado. My brother manages a ski lodge there, and I was planning to spend Christmas with them this year, or at least I was until Mr. Flynn called.”
“Got that stiff-headed nephew on his back for something. Won’t tell me what it’s all about, but I can tell ya, Quinn Connor ain’t a happy man.”
Quinn Connor? She’d heard his name before but couldn’t recall where at the moment.
“I’m sure Mr. Flynn will keep me informed if there is a situation,” she said though now she didn’t believe anything Mr. Flynn had said. If he were truly on his deathbed, would his nephew be on his back? And if he were dying, what kind of man was this nephew? Heartless? She would avoid any preconceived notions just yet. She would wait and see for herself.
“Aye, I hope so, miss, I sure hope so.”
For the next hour, they traveled in silence. Claire strained to see as much of the countryside as possible through the fog, which had gotten even heavier since they left the airport in Dublin.
Breaking the silence, Claire asked, “How far to Glendalough?”
Marty glanced at his watch. “Another half hour. With this fog movin’ in, I’m not wantin’ to drive too fast.”
“No, of course not. I just assumed it was a short distance from the airport.” The roads were so small, she couldn’t believe two vehicles could drive either way without scraping against one another. Twice they’d had to practically take to the ditch when a tour bus zoomed down the road as though they were on the freeway. She didn’t want to drive in Ireland, or at least not this trip.
“You just sit back an’ relax, lassie, so when we arrive at the Flynn estate, you’ll be all rested up, ready for whatever it is that old Donald’s got up his sleeve.”
Relax, right. She wouldn’t be able to relax until she had a hot shower, a good night’s rest, and at least one pot of coffee. She felt crummy because she hadn’t showered in almost twenty-four hours. And how could she forget her upchucking episode at JFK? Once she’d settled in for the long flight, she spent a bit of time in the airplane’s restroom. She managed to stick her hair under the meager stream of water, which she had to hand pump, then used the hand soap to wash the vomit completely out of her hair. She had managed to clean herself up a bit more with the baby wipes Kelly gave her. She’d added a bit of lipstick and combed her hair before they landed. Lucky for her, the Betty Boop slippers were an item much desired by Kelly. When they landed she’d actually offered to buy them from her. When Claire explained her broken-heel situation, Kelly whipped a pair of gently worn black leather ballet flats from Paddy’s diaper bag and offered them to her. She’d gladly accepted them, giving the Betty Boop slippers to Kelly. They’d exchanged phone numbers, and again Claire made another promise to visit her before she returned to the States. She’d made lots of promises, commitments, and she hoped she would be able to keep them.
The soft lull of the engine and the narrow winding roads forced her to recline against the plush headrest. Her eyes were gritty from being awake so many hours. Closing them for a few minutes, she fell into a deep and troubled sleep.
“No!” she shouted in her dream, only to realize she’d screamed aloud.
“Nightmares?” Marty asked.
Claire took a deep breath, trying to clear the cobwebs from her head. She never remembered her dreams, but whatever this one was, she must’ve been frightened and running because her heart continued to pound even after she came fully awake. “No, not that I remember. I’m just overly tired.”
“We’re turning down the road leading to the estate now. You might want to have a look as we round the corner. The Flynn place is a sight ta behold, especially with the fog hoverin’ above.”
Claire nodded. “I’m sure it is,” was all she could come up with.
Marty was right. As soon as they went around a sharp curve, she saw the Flynn estate. The mountains behind the estate were stunning. Claire drew in her breath as they made the final round, where she had a bird’s-eye view of the Flynn estate . . . This was not an estate!
“Good heavens! This is a castle,” Claire exclaimed.
“Aye it is, lassie. Been in the Flynn family since the 1700s, though it’s been modernized several times.”
For a minute, Claire was truly awestruck. A castle. Why didn’t she know this about her client? Why hadn’t she been made aware of his . . . living arrangements? She was quite aware of his financial status, knew he was one of Ireland’s wealthiest men. But a castle? No, she truly hadn’t a clue.
“Wait till ya see it tonight when it’s all lit up. It’s all decorated for Christmas. People from all across Ireland drive by to have a look. Mr. Flynn even opens the gates so they can get a close-up. Old Flynn’s a good fella, just a bit ornery at times.”
She stared at the castle. She had actually been summoned to a castle. A week before Christmas. It reminded her of one of those cheesy Lifetime movies she loved to watch. No, this was real. She couldn’t wait to hear what Mr. Flynn had to say. It was becoming more and more obvious that he wasn’t dying. Marty didn’t have a clue, and when he’d called her, he’d sounded just fine. No, there was something more going on at the Flynn estate, rather castle, and she planned to find out exactly what as soon as she entered. I won’t be the least bit surprised if there’s a moat, she thought, as they reached the end of the winding lane leading to the front of the castle.