Page 8 of Worth a Shot

She picked up on the second ring.

“Oh, Cord,” Liz said. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Liz had light brown skin and sleek mahogany hair, shaved on one side and cut at an extreme angle down to her chin. She wore her signature bright red lipstick and her nose ring glinted in the muted colored lamps in her apartment. Seeing her face had Cordelia’s heart pinching all over again.

“I wasn’t, but I’m better now.” Cordelia sighed. “Not the best moment to be blowing over a grand on new equipment, but I can’t be here without a camera, Liz.”

“I know, babes,” Liz said sympathetically. “Ugh. What a shit way to start your summer. Have you at least met any hot Irish guys yet?”

Cordelia narrowed her eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I had called Louise James’s number.”

“Okay, okay, I deserved that. How’s the place? It’s raining, isn’t it?”

“It is raining and the place is really cute.” She switched her camera view so Liz could see the bedroom, then switched it back.

“Oh my god, Cord. It’s like you’re living in Snow White’s cottage or something.”

“I know.”

“Oh shit.” Liz frowned. “I gotta run, I’m meeting Meena for lunch. Get some sleep. You’ll feel much better tomorrow, I bet.”

“Yeah,” Cordelia said. “Maybe. Give Meena my love.”

Liz hesitated, as if Cordelia didn’t always send her love to Liz’s girlfriend. But before she could wonder too much about it, Liz smiled brightly. “Will do,” she said. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

She hung up and stared out the window at the darkening gloom. One phone call with Liz and she was already homesick. She finished her tea while she placed her order for the new camera, shipping it to the Tigh Na Mara B&B as Alison had instructed.

It was only seven o’clock, but Cordelia didn’t care. She placed her broken camera on the nightstand and touched her father’s thumbprint. “Love you, Dad,” she murmured. Then she slid under the covers and played an old Forensic Files episode on her phone. But within five minutes, she’d fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep.

She awoke early the next morning with a jolt.

Sunlight streamed in through the window. For one disorienting second, she forgot where she was. Her camera sat on the nightstand staring at her through its broken lens, and Cordelia’s heart sank to settle somewhere around her knees.

Get up, get out there, and enjoy the day. Nothing a brisk walk couldn’t fix, that was Christopher James’s motto. She checked her phone – she had a couple of new texts and pictures from Toby: Grace all dressed up and going off to gymnastics camp and Miles holding up a tooth he’d lost. And from her mother, a link to an article titled “Five Top Tips to Find Romance on Vacation.” Cordelia didn’t feel like responding to that.

She showered and dressed, then checked the fridge and cupboards to see what food she had. Her spirits were lifting a little – she opened the kitchen window and was pleased to feel a warm breeze on her face. The scent of thyme and rosemary wafted in from the herb garden behind the house. The sun was bright in a pale blue sky, not a cloud in sight. She snapped a picture and sent it off to Liz, then pored over the information Alison had left for her.

There were boat schedules for travel to the other two islands, Inishmaan and Inisheer, along with things to do like cycling and visiting monuments, cliffs, and beaches. She studied the map of the town of Kilronan and was pleased to find it pretty straightforward – Alison had marked where the cottage was, and it seemed like she was living off the one main road that led down to the central thrust of the town. She saw the pub, O’Connor’s, clearly marked.

Cordelia decided to pop down to the market, then see if she could finally meet this Róisín. She could feel the missing weight of her camera as she hiked her bag over her shoulder. She touched her dad’s thumbprint one last time before heading out.

As she walked down the main road, her phone pinged with a text from Alison.

How are you feeling today?

Much better thanks, Cordelia replied. Heading to the market then I’ll bring the mail up to the house.

Great, cheers. Meet at the pub at six tonight? Sorry if it’s on the early side – I have to be up to get breakfast ready for the guests.

An early dinner sounded perfect.

See you then! Cordelia wrote back.

The market had a striped awning and baskets of produce outside. Cordelia grabbed some essentials, and by the time she returned to the cottage, the jet lag fog was setting in again. The only mail was a copy of The Irish Times addressed to Róisín Callahan. Cordelia walked up the dirt path to the big stone house – it was like a much larger version of the cottage, with a wreath of daisies hanging on the heavy wooden door.

She knocked but got no reply. A low bench was placed to the side of the door. Cordelia sat on it for a bit, wondering if maybe Róisín would return home, but after a while she gave up and wedged the paper under the doormat, heading back to the cottage to nap before dinner.