My Life in Shambles - Karina Halle Page 0,44

hand and gives it a squeeze, his warm palm pressed against mine, contrasting the chill outside. In that squeeze, I feel everything that’s going through his head with what we’re about to undertake.

He’s home and I’m here with him and this isn’t going to be easy.

What have I gotten myself into?

“Nana,” he says, pulling me over to her where she waits by the front door, her coat pulled tightly around her. That’s when she really notices me, notices us holding hands, and her gaze becomes sharp as an axe.

We stop in front of her and her eyes run up and down me in inspection before looking back to Padraig.

“Where are yer manners, boy?” she says to him, jerking her head toward me. “First of all, ye haven’t introduced me to yer girl here, and second of all, ye never told me you were bringing company. I should have known. I could have cleaned up. The good lord knows this place could have been fully booked and there would’ve been no room for her.”

Padraig gives her a patient smile. “Are the rooms all booked up?”

“Ach, no,” she says almost angrily. “It’s January. There’s only the Major here.”

“The Major?” I ask.

“That’s what I call him,” Padraig says to me. “Ever seen Fawlty Towers?” I nod. “Well then, ye know the Major is the old man who lives at the hotel. We have a Major here.”

“He has a name,” his grandmother chides him, even though she’s the one who called him the Major first. “And speaking of names, what the devil is yer name, miss, since Padraig has lost his manners somewhere on a rugby pitch?”

I hold out my hand. “I’m Valerie Stephens.”

Her skin is rough and calloused and she gives my hand a bone-crushing shake. I try not to wince.

“You’re a Canadian,” she says to me.

“No, American,” I correct her. “I’m from Philadelphia. But I live in New York.” Or, I did.

Her eyes narrow at that. Very unimpressed. I’ve noticed a bit of hostility from people here when I tell them where I’m from.

“Yea,” she says carefully. She brings her sharp gaze to Padraig. “Where ye find this one then? Don’t think you’ve ever brought a girl home before, let alone some American. Ye snatching up tourists?”

Kind of.

“How about we make the introductions inside where it’s warm,” Padraig says. “And where’s my hug, anyway?” He gently pulls his grandmother into a big bear hug and my heart seems to grow a few more sizes.

“Oof,” she says, trying to get out of his embrace. “You trying to kill yer oul’ nana?” She manages to pull away and heads through the door. “Okay, come on, come on. I’ll get a pot of tea going.”

We step inside the front hall and I’m immediately met with a rush of warm air. The place is all white stone walls and wood floors and so many cozy earthy knickknacks and thick rugs all over the place.

“Hang up yer coats on them hooks. Take off yer shoes,” she says to me, pointing at my boots. “Put on those slippers, miss. You too, boy.”

I hang up my coat and quickly unzip my boots, picking out a pair of handmade wool slippers that are all lined up in various colors and sizes along a low bench. I put on a pair of dark green ones and to my surprise Padraig chooses hot pink.

I giggle, and he shrugs. “They’re the only ones big enough for my feet. I know my nan knitted these as a joke, she just won’t admit it.”

“What are ye blathering on about?” she says as she disappears around the corner. “Don’t think my hearing has gone. The devil has cursed me for having to listen to yer nonsense until the day I go.” She then mutters under her breath, “Won’t be a moment too soon.”

I look wide-eyed at Padraig. She’s both hilarious and intense in her grumpiness.

“You’ll get used to it,” Padraig says quietly, leading me over to the living area.

“I heard that!” his grandmother calls out from the kitchen.

The living area is beyond cozy, with a roaring fire at one end, a plush couch, and two doily-accented armchairs. In the middle is an old wooden coffee table littered with brochures and a guestbook. Even if the next few days end up being crazy, at least I can say I stayed in a genuine Irish house in the country.

“Where’s me oul’ man?” he asks. He’s only home for a few minutes and already his accent is deepening.

“He’s in

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