bed.
And slept like the dead for four solid hours.
She woke in the dark, completely disoriented and starving.
Though her thoroughly disorganized possessions taunted her, she rooted through for jeans, a sweater, warm socks, boots. Armed with her guidebook and one of the books Branna had lent her, she took herself off to the hotel’s cottage restaurant for the food, the company.
A fire snapped in the hearth while she dug into a bowl of roasted vegetable soup and pored over her books. She liked the comfort of the mix of voices around her, Irish, American, German—and, she thought, possibly Swedish. She dined on fish and chips, and since it was her first night, treated herself to a glass of champagne.
The waitress had a smile as brilliant as her bright red hair, and gifted Iona with it as she refilled the water glass. “Are you enjoying your meal then?”
“It’s wonderful.” Drawing her shoulders up and in, in a self-hug, Iona beamed a smile back. “Everything’s just wonderful.”
“Would it be your first time at Ashford?”
“Yes. It’s amazing. It still feels like a dream.”
“Well, they say we should have better weather tomorrow if you’re after rambling about.”
“I’d like to.” Should she rent a car? Iona wondered. Try her luck on the roads? Maybe just a walk to the village, for now. “Actually, I took a walk through the grounds, the woods this afternoon.”
“In all that drench?”
“I couldn’t resist. I wanted to see my cousin. She lives nearby.”
“Is that the truth? Sure it’s nice to have family while you’re visiting. Who is she, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“They, really, though I only met Branna today. Branna O’Dwyer.”
The girl’s smile didn’t dim, but her eyes showed new focus. “A cousin to the O’Dwyers, are you now?”
“Yes. Do you know them?”
“Everyone knows Branna and Connor O’Dwyer. He’s a falconer. The hotel will book hawk walks through the falconry school, and that Connor manages. It’s a very popular activity with the guests here. And Branna . . . she has a shop in Cong. She makes soaps and lotions and tonics and the like. The Dark Witch, it’s called, after a local legend.”
“I saw her workshop today. I’ll have to check out the shop and the falconry school.”
“Both are pleasant walks right from the hotel. Well then, enjoy your meal.”
The waitress left her to it, but Iona noticed she stopped by another server for a quick word. And both of them glanced back to Iona’s table.
So, she thought, the O’Dwyers were local interests. Hardly surprising. But it was weird sitting there eating her fish and chips knowing she’d become an object of speculation.
Did they all know Branna wasn’t merely the owner of the Dark Witch, but was one?
And so am I, Iona thought. Now I have to learn just what that means. Determined to do just that, she opened another book, and read her way through the rest of the meal.
The rain eased, but the night wind blew fierce, urging her to hurry back to the main hotel rather than strolling along the river Cong as she’d hoped.
She got “good evenings” and “welcome backs” from the staff as she stepped in, crossed through the lobby. Curious, she took brochures on the falconry school and the stables, then—what the hell, she was sort of on vacation—asked for tea to be sent to her room.
Once inside, she made herself set the brochures and books aside to deal, finally, with the unpacking.
After the brutal purge of her wardrobe, the selling of whatever she’d put aside, she still had more than enough. And she’d brought all she thought she’d need for her new life.
By the time she’d filled the wardrobe, the drawers, repacked items she decided could wait, the tea arrived, along with a plate of pretty cookies. Satisfied she’d done her chores, she changed back into her sleep pants, piled up the pillows and, sitting in bed, composed the email on her notebook to let her grandmother know
And slept like the dead for four solid hours.
She woke in the dark, completely disoriented and starving.
Though her thoroughly disorganized possessions taunted her, she rooted through for jeans, a sweater, warm socks, boots. Armed with her guidebook and one of the books Branna had lent her, she took herself off to the hotel’s cottage restaurant for the food, the company.
A fire snapped in the hearth while she dug into a bowl of roasted vegetable soup and pored over her books. She liked the comfort of the mix of voices around her, Irish, American, German—and, she thought, possibly Swedish. She dined on fish and chips, and since it was her first night, treated herself to a glass of champagne.
The waitress had a smile as brilliant as her bright red hair, and gifted Iona with it as she refilled the water glass. “Are you enjoying your meal then?”
“It’s wonderful.” Drawing her shoulders up and in, in a self-hug, Iona beamed a smile back. “Everything’s just wonderful.”
“Would it be your first time at Ashford?”
“Yes. It’s amazing. It still feels like a dream.”
“Well, they say we should have better weather tomorrow if you’re after rambling about.”
“I’d like to.” Should she rent a car? Iona wondered. Try her luck on the roads? Maybe just a walk to the village, for now. “Actually, I took a walk through the grounds, the woods this afternoon.”
“In all that drench?”
“I couldn’t resist. I wanted to see my cousin. She lives nearby.”
“Is that the truth? Sure it’s nice to have family while you’re visiting. Who is she, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“They, really, though I only met Branna today. Branna O’Dwyer.”
The girl’s smile didn’t dim, but her eyes showed new focus. “A cousin to the O’Dwyers, are you now?”
“Yes. Do you know them?”
“Everyone knows Branna and Connor O’Dwyer. He’s a falconer. The hotel will book hawk walks through the falconry school, and that Connor manages. It’s a very popular activity with the guests here. And Branna . . . she has a shop in Cong. She makes soaps and lotions and tonics and the like. The Dark Witch, it’s called, after a local legend.”
“I saw her workshop today. I’ll have to check out the shop and the falconry school.”
“Both are pleasant walks right from the hotel. Well then, enjoy your meal.”
The waitress left her to it, but Iona noticed she stopped by another server for a quick word. And both of them glanced back to Iona’s table.
So, she thought, the O’Dwyers were local interests. Hardly surprising. But it was weird sitting there eating her fish and chips knowing she’d become an object of speculation.
Did they all know Branna wasn’t merely the owner of the Dark Witch, but was one?
And so am I, Iona thought. Now I have to learn just what that means. Determined to do just that, she opened another book, and read her way through the rest of the meal.
The rain eased, but the night wind blew fierce, urging her to hurry back to the main hotel rather than strolling along the river Cong as she’d hoped.
She got “good evenings” and “welcome backs” from the staff as she stepped in, crossed through the lobby. Curious, she took brochures on the falconry school and the stables, then—what the hell, she was sort of on vacation—asked for tea to be sent to her room.
Once inside, she made herself set the brochures and books aside to deal, finally, with the unpacking.
After the brutal purge of her wardrobe, the selling of whatever she’d put aside, she still had more than enough. And she’d brought all she thought she’d need for her new life.
By the time she’d filled the wardrobe, the drawers, repacked items she decided could wait, the tea arrived, along with a plate of pretty cookies. Satisfied she’d done her chores, she changed back into her sleep pants, piled up the pillows and, sitting in bed, composed the email on her notebook to let her grandmother know
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