Page 120 of Road Trip
“Afraid so.”
“Listen, Maeve, love…” Angela hesitated. “No. Absolutely not. I am not going to say what’s on my mind. Shut up, Angela Grogan. Nobody cares what you think. Right?”
Maeve couldn’t help but chuckle. “I do care. But it’s complicated.”
“Love always is,” Angela said. “I’ll call you back in a jiffy, all right? In the meantime, where did you say you were?”
“I’m at the inn right now, but I’m going to walk over to the Willow Tree. I didn’t have breakfast, and I’m starving.”
Thankfully, the WillowTree was not inundated with china painting ladies. Maeve asked to be seated as far from the pool table as possible.
Maeve ordered the shepherd’s pie and a Coke. She was staring down at her phone, looking up the address of the US embassy in Dublin, when a shadow fell over the table.
“You’re like a bad penny,” Liam said. “You just keep turning up again, don’t you?”
“Angela called you and told you how to find me?”
“She did.” He gestured to the empty chair opposite her own. “May I?”
Maeve nodded. “I don’t suppose you’re here because you found my passport?”
“Afraid not. I tore the Jeep apart. When I get home from work tonight, I’ll search the cottage.”
“Thank you.”
The bartender arrived with her food. He exchanged pleasantries with Liam and left.
“Join me?” Maeve offered. “There’s more than enough for two.”
“Can’t. We’re short-handed at the distillery. Got a busload of elderly ladies coming for the tour and Donal’s chosen today of all days to turn up with a broken toe. Not supposed to put weight on it. Damn fool, trying to play rugby with lads half his age.”
“I saw the ladies. They’re staying at the inn,” Maeve said. “It’s a group of china painters.”
He looked perplexed. “Why would you paint china? Doesn’t it usually come prepainted?”
“It’s sort of a craft. My aunt took a class in china painting. Lots of flowers and butterflies.”
“Bless ’em,” Liam said. “I’d better get back then.” He noddedgoodbye and headed for the door, but suddenly looped back around the room and came back to her table.
He clasped his hands on the tabletop. His expression was troubled. “I wish you’d called me yourself, Maeve.”
Her face grew hot, and she didn’t trust herself to speak.
“I’m not your enemy, you know.”
“I know.”
“What about your sister? Did she come back with you?”
“No. I told her to get on the flight without me. I really thought my passport would turn up—in the rental car, or in our room at the inn.”
“Angela said to tell you she looked all over. It’s not at the farm.”
“I don’t understand. This is just so unlike me. I’m not a careless person. I don’t misplace things. That’s Therese’s department. This is all so upsetting.”
His eyes locked with hers. “Can I ask you something?”
“Okay.”
