Empress of Ireland Read online

  The Empress of Ireland

  Places to See Series

  Story 1

  Jennifer Conner

  Excerpt from The Empress of Ireland

  “Please, it’s a terrible night. It’s Sunday and there’s nothing else open. Except this umbrella.” He held it out to her.

  “Is this a peace offering, since I was the dummy who forgot mine?”

  “Call it what you will. Is this your first night in Ireland?”

  “Yes. I flew in today.”

  “Then it can’t start out like this. But I have to warn ya, most people who come, never leave.” He gave her a wink that made his eyes sparkle under the dim streetlights. He was kind of cute, and what else could she do?

  “This is Kinsale not Brigadoon,” she said with a chuckle.

  “Let me take your bag,” he offered. “By the way, the name’s Alasdair. You can’t be walking the streets at night with a complete stranger.” He smiled again. Okay, he was really cute with ebony tousled hair and emerald green eyes.

  She popped open the umbrella and raised it above their heads. He stepped close and put a tentative hand around her back to join her under the cover. He was warm, solid and smelled like firewood. Her stomach did a little flip.

  “Shall we?” he asked.

  She smiled. “Sure.”

  Place to See

  Book 1 in The Places to See

  A Books to Go Now Publication

  Copyright © Jennifer Conner 2014

  Books to Go Now

  For information on the cover illustration and design, contact [email protected]

  The Cover shot of Kinsale was one of my own pictures from our trip there.

  First eBook Edition –February 2014

  A;so Published on Smashwords

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously.

  If you are interested in purchasing more works of this nature, please stop by

  www.bookstogonow.com

  Look for Jennifer Conner’s novel

  Shot in the Dark

  Book 1:The Duke and the Lost Night Book 2:The Reluctant Heir Book 3 The Wounded Nobleman

  Book 4: Redemption for a Rogue

  Please look for Jennifer’s other short stories

  Chrisstmas Dog Tails

  Christmas Romance

  I’ll be Seeing You Through Time

  I Hear Angels

  Walk with me Through Time

  Brewing up Some Love

  Valentine Surprise

  Cupcakes and Cupids

  Do You Hear What I Hear?

  New Year Resolution

  Christmas with Carol

  Auld Lang Sigh

  Rush of Love

  Fields of Gold

  Christmas Chaos

  The Christmas Horse

  The Music of Christmas

  All I Want for Christmas is You

  Weddings First Chance

  and novel Kilt by Love

  Dedication:

  To my friends Greg, Gail, Gloria, Peggy and Bobbi,

  I can only hope that I am as fun as you in a few years.

  Máire is a hodgepodge of all of you.

  Also thanks to Barry Moloney of Don & Barry’s Kinsale Historic Strolls.

  He was a wealth of great information regarding this great and beautiful town.

  Chapter One

  Nothing could prepare Laila Byrne for tonight, a night of paying tribute to the dead. She walked to the door dividing the banquet room of La Masionette from the rest of the restaurant and looked out as the patrons laughed and talked. She paused and inhaled the rich smells of rosemary, garlic and truffle sauce which filled the air of the candlelit room. Laila picked out each distinct aroma and was usually proud of her chef skills, but not tonight. Tonight, nothing seemed right.

  She’d been placed in charge of finding a place for her and her girlfriends to pay their last respects. She’d reserved the ornately decorated room with gold gilded frames and carved wood chairs which was usually set aside for business dinners or private parties—not memorial services. But she had no idea where else they could go. This place was home— or at least she thought of it that way until recently. But a home was somewhere that was your own or where someone greeted you when you came back from your workday. As she looked out at the packed tables, it was what it was… a restaurant, not a home.

  She motioned to the head waiter and made it clear that she and the others were not to be disturbed and then quietly closed the door, drowning out the noise of the happier diners.

  Laila stood with her back turned to the other four women as she tried to force her feet to move. Her legs weren’t listening. A sob choked her throat and she took another drink. Other than the alcohol making her lightheaded, the drink was an oasis for the scratchy dryness that made it hard to swallow.

  “It’ll be okay.” Amy’s voice snapped her from a self-induced trance. She guided Laila back to the table. “We all miss Janelle. She would be happy that we’re getting together tonight to celebrate her life.”

  The solid leather chair Laila chose to sit in kept her from collapsing inward. “Why didn’t she tell us?” She looked around at the other women, hoping for an answer to her question. She’d asked herself the same thing a thousand times this week, but came up with nothing.

  “She wasn’t like that,” Sofia blurted out and then frowned. “You know that. She didn’t tell any of us.”

  The six of them had known each other for eight years. Obviously, what Laila thought she knew was only part of their lives. How many other secrets hadn’t they told each other?

  “I want to propose a toast.” Laila wiped at the tears on her face and lifted her glass. “To Janelle, who was a best friend to all of us. She will be missed in more ways than she’ll ever know.”

  Amy, Sofia, Ellie and Meg raised their champagne glasses and clinked them against Laila’s. The light, cheery noise didn’t fit the somber mood of the evening.

  “When Janelle quit her job,” Ellie said with a sniff, “she said it was because she wanted to travel. I thought it was to have the adventures she always talked about.”

  “She did have the adventures she talked about!” Sofia exclaimed. “This last year, she traveled to twenty different countries. Think back on all the postcards and Facebook photos we saw of her in different places in the world.”

  “But she did it because she must have been told that her brain aneurism was untreatable, and soon to be fatal. It wasn’t just to travel.” Meg dabbed a crumpled tissue to her nose.

  “We’re missing the point. Why does it matter why she did it? She did it. She didn’t want any of us to feel sorry for her or give her pity. She spent the time she had doing what she’d always wanted to do. ‘No regrets,’ as she always said.” Ellie scowled and tapped her fingernail on the side of her crystal flute. “That’s why
she never said anything.”

  “But if she’d told us, I would have…” Laila’s words trailed off. Her heart felt like a hollow cave.

  “You would have what?” Amy asked.

  “You know what I mean. Do I need to say it?” Laila paused, but no one said a word. “I would have gone with her. I should never have said no. I should have gone with her when she asked.”

  “We’re all guilty of being lousy friends Laila,” Sofia said and brushed back her own tears. “She asked all of us to go with her. Remember how she called each of us from a different stop around the world and asked us to meet her? We all told her that we were too busy, not just you.”

  “Busy with what?” Ellie pushed back from the table. “Seriously...” Standing, she paced to the other side of the room. “Why didn’t we go with her? We all have jobs we like—mind you, I didn’t say we love them.”

  “I love my job, that’s why I didn’t go,” Laila countered. “I’ve dreamed of being a head chef at a restaurant since I was a teenager. La Masionette is my whole world.” Laila sighed as she looked around at the expensive wood paneling of the banquet room. “It has been for the last three years.”

  “But after losing Janelle, it doesn’t feel as important, does it? After this past week, the things that have been so important in the last few years suddenly aren’t so important, are they?” Meg looped an arm across Laila’s shoulders. “This week I finally got the promotion I wanted…I’ve worked on getting it for years and now that I have it… big deal. I can’t help but wonder why I wanted it so badly.”

  “We’re all single,” Sofia added. “Why are we so driven to stay where we are and never experience anything outside of our safety bubble? We meet at least once a week and ‘talk’ about all the things we’ll do when we get the time, but we never get the time. Janelle was the only one who made the time and followed through with her dreams.”

  “No kids and no significant men in our lives… depressing in its own right,” Meg said and sighed. “What is our excuse?”

  “I don’t know.” Laila looked at the package on the table wrapped in fancy gilded paper. “As I told all of you earlier, this box arrived at my apartment a few days after Janelle’s… death.” The word was still difficult to say. “It came with instructions to open it when we were all together.” She lifted a paring knife from the kitchen, she cut through the sparkly ribbon and slipped it free. Running the knife’s edge under the tape, she raised the lid and peered inside.

  On top was an envelope of the tissue. In bold letter across the front it read: OPEN ME FIRST.

  Laila forced the tremble from her fingers, opened the envelope, and slid out the letter. She began to read,

  Well hello my favorite girlfriends in the world.

  If you are reading this, I’m dead and you’re all sitting around boohooing my loss—which, by the way, I really appreciate that you care this much about me. Since Laila is a take charge kind of person, you are probably at Le Masionette. The food is great, but their champagne list sucks. Since I’m sure you all think this is a sad occasion (though I don’t) and I know all of you too well, one bottle of the bubbly will not be enough for you lushes. I bought two bottles of Bollinger Blanc De Noirs to add to the stockpile tonight. If it’s good enough for James Bond, it’s good enough for us. Yes… I know how expensive it is, but this is the last time I can buy all of you a drink. And they’re right, you can’t take it with you. So Laila, stop reading, open the Bollinger, and take another big drink because you’re going to need it for the next part.

  Even in death, Janelle could make her smile. Laila placed the letter on the table and dug through the tissue. Just as Janelle said, there were two silver-labeled champagne bottles surprisingly cold from being in the trunk of her car. She wrapped her white chef’s apron around the neck of the bottle and wiggled the stopper. When the cork popped free, she poured equal amounts into their glasses.

  Sofia lifted her glass in a salute and then took a drink. She closed her eyes and smiled. “This champagne is amazing. Leave it to Janelle to do it right. Remember this, girls. I want this at my wake.”

  Laila picked up the letter and began to read the second part.

  Now that you have your full glasses—and I know how good this champagne is because I bought a bottle for myself—I’m going to drop my challenge on you. Knowing you all as well as I do, I’m sure you have thoroughly beaten yourselves up about not travelling with me when I called. That’s unimportant now. What is important is that I want all of you to experience something in your lives other than your jobs. You need to have adventures, see the world and look for love. Even though I was never married, I met Acis in Greece. I know, I forgot to mention him, but he was too good to share. We spent three weeks of sinful bliss together. Ladies, you would have been proud of me ’cause he was smokin’ hot! Thick black hair,-six-foot-three…but I’m getting off track. Look under the tissue the champagne was wrapped in… I’ll wait.

  Laila looked under the wrapping and pulled out a folded piece of glossy paper from the bottom of the box. As she unfolded it, a map of the world emerged. She read on.

  You all might have figured out my evil plan by now. The last three things in the box are red pushpins, tape, and a blindfold (my favorite Hermes silk tweed scarf so no blubbering or mascara stains on it, please). Instead of being sad for me, let me be happy for you. Show me that the five of you can see some of the great places this world has to offer. I want each of you to blindfold the other. No cheating and no kinky comments. I’m watching. Here comes the fun part. You have to stick a pin in the map of the world and then I want you to travel there. Of course, I could never make you do anything you didn’t want to, and now I really can’t ’cause I’m dead. But let me tell you, if you do this, you won’t be sorry. Everyone should be able to take some time off. Your job’s not your life. There are so many places to visit.

  No more boohoos. Love you. See you on the flip-side.

  Janelle.

  Laila dried the last of her tears, as she made a loop with the tape. She stuck it to the back of the map and pasted it on the wall. She picked the blindfold off the table and held it to Meg. “I want to go first,” she said. “I need to go first, because no matter where this pin lands, I’m not going to let Janelle down–not this time.”

  Meg tied the silky scarf over her eyes, Laila took another chug of champagne and set her glass on the table.

  “I’m going to spin you around… that’s what you do, right? Like “Pin the Tail on the Donkey,” Meg asked, sounding a bit hesitant.

  “Sure. That’s good,” Laila said.

  Meg touched her arm and placed the thumbtack between Laila’s fingers. Slowly, she spun Laila on the rich, deep, carpet, three times and then guided her forward. She felt for the edge of the map to orient herself and then lifted her arm. Taking the last step, she pushed the pin into the map.

  Laila drew the scarf off her eyes and stared at the map. The pin had landed near a town in Ireland. “Kinsale, huh… I’ve always wanted to go to Ireland. Like Janelle always said, ‘Life’s an adventure, don’t let it pass you by.’”

  She turned and held the scarf out to the next friend in line. “Who’s next?”

  Chapter Two

  Laila struggled with her suitcase as it bounced down and then off the last stair of the bus, landing with a thud on the cobblestone street. She thanked the driver and watched as the doors closed with a hiss. On the inland harbor that surrounded the small village of Kinsale fog hung like a misty blanket, offering a gentle caress to the town.

  Laila felt happy her pin landed on Ireland. It was such a beautiful and picturesque setting. Green hills swooped down to meet the sea and surrounded the small inlet. Even though it was wintry, the salt in the sea air cleared her sleep-deprived brain and made her feel alive.

  Janelle would have liked it here.

 
Laila jostled her heavy purse onto the crook of her shoulder, and then pulled her cell phone free. Still no message from the lady she’d booked a room with. This was what always happened when she tried to be a spur-of-the-moment kind of girl. Disaster. She liked to take her time and plan every detail. Make sure everything was set months ahead of time. If she couldn’t reach the B&B where would she sleep?

  This trip planning thing had always been a problem. She always worked out everything thoroughly in her head, but then always found an excuse not to go. She felt a debt to La Masionette, which had been her excuse to stay at home. The old manager took a chance and hired her right out of culinary school to work her way up through the kitchen ranks. When he’d left, the new manager took away much of the fun she’d experienced in the past. Mr. Boulee expected her to work overtime without pay, come in every holiday, and solve all the problems that arose. Problems which were his responsibility. Ever since he’d been hired, life for her and the rest of the staff had been far from pleasant. No one liked him.

  She’d left with a bad feeling that things at the restaurant were heading down a slippery slope. If she called the States on her cell, it would cost an arm and a leg in roaming charges. She bit her lip and knew she wouldn’t sleep if she didn’t. Punching in the number, she waited until the familiar voice of the other chef at La Masionette answered.

  “Reg? It’s Laila. Did the refrigeration man show up for the repairs?”

  “No,” Reg replied. “Wait. Mr. Boulee is here and wants to talk to you.”

  She waited as he handed off the phone.

  “I am very disappointed that you picked now to take time off,” he said in his usual rude tone. “I ask you to do one thing and you failed.”

  Laila paused and took time to gather her words carefully. “I’m sorry Rickman Refrigeration hasn’t arrived yet, but they said they would be there as soon as they were able.”

  “You should have handled this!” he barked.