Wellesley Wives (New England Trilogy) (31 page)

“Why is it so important?” Sandra had asked.

“It’s where I had my first kiss,” Popsy said with a shy smile.

“Hey, cool.” Sandra laughed “But the real question is, with whom?”

Popsy smiled whimsically. “Mark Butler. I wonder where he is now. And before you ask, I have no desire, and I mean
no
desire, to find out. Do you hear me?”

“It would have really spiced up the weekend. I mean, it’s all well and good visiting old houses and cemeteries, but looking up an old boyfriend? Now that could be fun.”

Popsy put her hand up. “Sandra, give me time. Peter is still my man. I still love him. I do not want to look up any old boyfriends.”

Sandra realized she’d gone way too far. “I’m sorry, Popsy. I’m such an insensitive idiot. Please forgive me.”

Popsy shook her head and drank a little wine. “There’s nothing to forgive. Today was really nice, and I can’t wait to show you all the places I used to go.”

They woke early on Saturday, and Sandra did her session in the gym while Popsy took her first bath of the day. Gerald arrived promptly and whisked them away to another day of adventures, starting in Blackrock. Popsy told them that, unlike Rathmichael, she was happy to report that not much seemed to have changed. Of course the names on the shops had, but the basic layout of the main street and its two little shopping centers were as she remembered.

One of the highlights was finding a great book shop in Blackrock. Unlike the super-sized bookstores in the States, this store was small with little alcoves. It was intimate, and they thoroughly enjoyed wandering around and finding a good book. They stopped for a coffee, too, because Sandra couldn’t get enough of those Irish fruit scones with real Irish butter.

“I’m going to have to up my gym sessions,” she said with a moan when she polished off yet another and looked hungrily at the half that Popsy had left untouched. “Are you going to eat that?” she asked.

Popsy laughed and pushed it across the table. On the upside, she did eat half, Sandra thought. At least she was back to eating.

Monkstown was just as nice as Blackrock. It was a good deal smaller, but the little crescent of shops was charming. A large church towered over the small seaside town. Then it was on to Dunleary.

“What the heck does that sign say? ‘Dun Laoighre?’ I can’t even pronounce it,” Sandra complained as they arrived in the port town.

“That’s how the Irish spell what you know as ‘Dunleary.’ You know, there’s a fully functioning and very much alive language in this country. Ireland has Irish,” Popsy explained. “Everybody learns it in school.”

“But there’s a
G
in the middle. Whose idea was that? It’s physically impossible to pronounce.”

“Irish sounds a lot like Arabic. It’s quite guttural. You have to use the back of your throat.”

Sandra tried but sounded more like she was choking. Popsy laughed and shook her head.

Part of the town had become pedestrianized, so they were able to wander around all the little shops.

There were families on the promenade out for some fresh air and a good walk. Young lovers held hands and stared into each other’s eyes, oblivious to where they were. There was the occasional runner and powerwalker, but most people seemed to be walking their dogs.

“Is it the law to own a dog here?” Sandra asked.

“We’re a people of the land. We love our animals.”

“Oh puh-lease.” Sandra laughed. “When was the last time you cleaned up after Tiger?” she asked as a woman got out a bag to clear away her pooch’s creation.

Popsy winced. “Yeah, I think I’ve lost touch with my Celtic Karma.”

“I always thought the Irish were most famous for their hospitality. Will we go out tonight and find a livelier place to have dinner? I mean, The Four Seasons was great. But it was a little quiet, don’t you think?” She knew Popsy couldn’t be pushed too much, but she was dammed if she was going to return to Boston without at least finding some mischief.

“What did you have in mind?” Popsy asked.

“That hotel our taxi driver showed us when we were coming in from the airport—I think it was called ‘The Shelbourne’—that looked pretty neat.”

“I knew it well, a long time ago. Best place in Dublin for afternoon tea.”

“I wasn’t thinking of afternoon tea, Popsy. I was thinking more of cosmos than coffee.”

“Sounds like a good plan.”

“But speaking of food, I’m getting hungry. How about some lunch?”

Popsy laughed. “I don’t know where you put it, but you’ll have to wait. We have to walk to the end of the pier and back. That’s what everybody does. Come on, take it up a notch,” Popsy said and walked faster.

“I’ve already killed myself in the gym this morning. I thought we were taking mellow little strolls around dainty local shops. I didn’t realize you wanted a full-body workout.”

Popsy ignored Sandra and inhaled deeply. “This feels great. Breathe in, Sandra. Can you smell that fresh sea air?” Seagulls cawed loudly overhead and Popsy looked up. “Funny. I’d forgotten what they sounded like. There aren’t any seagulls in Wellesley.”

“They can’t afford the rent,” Sandra joked and Popsy laughed. She actually laughed.

“I like the sound of them. They make me feel like I’m home.” Popsy looked happy, so Sandra parked her cynicism. Seagulls didn’t do it for her, she decided, as the huge birds swooped too close for comfort. They weren’t pretty at all and she knew anything that big must produce a significant-sized bird poo. If she was alone she would have gotten out of there, but this wasn’t about her. It was all about Popsy.

“It’s good to be home, Sandra. I love the salt air on my lips and filling my lungs. It invigorates me.”

Sandra forgot about her dislike of the seagulls. She was getting Popsy back. Ireland could build her up again like nowhere else, but she didn’t say it out loud. Even though she was thrilled to hear her friend say it, Sandra didn’t dare comment because she didn’t want to break the vacation-spell that Popsy was under.

“My mother walked this very pier every day of her pregnancy with me. Isn’t that awesome?”

“Wow, that is cool.”

“It is. I just remembered that now. After I was born, she walked me in a stroller. She told me that when I was a little older, I would fight to get down and then try to run back toward Dunleary. Gosh, I’d forgotten how much this place is a part of me.” Popsy stopped and looked at her. “Sandra, thank you for bringing me back here. Thank you so much.”

The depth of gratitude and love on Popsy’s face almost overwhelmed her, and she thought she might cry. Instead she gave her oldest and dearest friend a great big bear hug before resuming their walk.

As they reached the end of the pier Sandra asked, “Is there a pillar you have to walk around or a part of the wall you touch to acknowledge doing the length of the pier before you head back?”

Popsy shrugged. “No, not really. We usually just turn around and head back, but hang on a second, I want to go in here first.” She pointed to an opening in the wall that led to the other side.

When they walked through, they found a few people sightseeing. Popsy walked over to a flat piece of rock that had no apparent use other than for people to stand on. “This is where it happened,” she said.

“What?”

“My first kiss,” Popsy mouthed so she wouldn’t be overheard.

“Oh, yeah? Terrific.” Sandra laughed and gave the area a little more attention. “It’s a great place,” she offered. “I mean, at least it’s somewhere you can come back to when you want to, unlike me.”

“Why’s that?” Popsy asked as they headed back into town.

“My first kiss was in Tony Lopez’s bedroom. I think whoever lives there now might find it odd if I asked them if I could take a trip down memory lane in one of their bedrooms.”

Popsy laughed. “You have a point there.”

“Now, can we please head back and find somewhere nice for lunch?” Sandra demanded. Gerald directed them to an amazing little Italian restaurant, and then he took them out to the village of Dalkey. After that they drove on to Killiney. Sandra adored the big houses out here. “It feels like Wellesley,” she said.

Popsy laughed. “Yes, if Wellesley was by the sea, which it isn’t, and I haven’t seen a single clapboard house since we got here. But apart from that . . .”

“I don’t know. It’s just the feeling.”

“Money,” Popsy said.

“What?”

“Money. That’s what they have in common. Killiney is full of billionaires, and so is Wellesley. That’s what you sense.”

Sandra laughed. “Not everybody in Wellesley has money anymore.”

“I’m sure it’s the same here,” Popsy said. “Speaking of money, Sandra, there’s something I need to discuss with you.”

“Not this weekend,” Sandra said. “This was my birthday present to you, and I don’t want you spending even a penny.”

Popsy shook her head. “It’s not that. So much has changed since you bought me this amazing birthday present. Back then we were both Wellesley Wives. Then we were both rich.”

Sandra sighed. “Those were the days. Now neither of us are Wellesley Wives, but for different reasons. You’re a Wellesley widow.” She squeezed Popsy’s arm. “And I’m a Wellesley divorcee. Doesn’t have a very nice ring to it, does it?”

Popsy stopped. “Sandra, my accountant called last week. It appears my life insurance came through. That is to say, Peter’s life insurance.”

“I thought it was all caught up in the Chapter 11 proceedings.”

“That’s his work insurance. He had a personal policy on both his life and mine, so what I’m trying to tell you is even if I lose the house, which I think is a given at this stage, I’ll still have money. You’re like a sister to me. I want to give you half of it. We’ve been through so much together,”

Sandra raised her hands, but Popsy ignored her. “If the situation were reversed, I know you would do the same. Please let me do this.”

Sandra was embarrassed and confused. She was used to being the one who took care of Popsy, but she knew she was going to need help financially if Jack really had no funds. She started to cry.

Now it was Popsy’s turn to comfort her.

“Come on, it’s not that bad. It would have been worse if I was looking to borrow money from you,” she said.

Sandra laughed through her tears. “True. Then we’d really be in trouble.”

“Put it out of your mind for now, but I just wanted to tell you that we’re going to be okay, moneywise. I don’t mean that we’re going to be fabulously rich like we were, but we’ll have enough to buy a place and live a modest life if that’s what you want.”

“My lawyers are still trying to get alimony out of Jack,” Sandra said, but a shadow crossed Popsy’s face. Then she realized anything she got from Jack, she would be taking from Lily, too. This was all too complicated.

“We can talk about it more when we get back to Boston, but I just didn’t want you to worry, that’s all.”

“Now I’m the one who’s thanking you.” Sandra smiled.

“Isn’t that what friendship is all about?”

They hugged again and headed back to the car.

~*~

It had been a fabulous couple of days. They were both thrilled they’d seen so much of Dublin and revisited most of Popsy’s past, but by Saturday night when Gerald dropped them back at the hotel, they were exhausted

In the lobby, Sandra said, “I don’t know why you didn’t get me here before now, Popsy Power. Dublin is an amazing city. The people are so nice, the food is ridiculously good, and the scenery is just breathtaking. We didn’t even do any shopping, and I still had a ball. I didn’t realize that was possible.”

“I’d forgotten how nice it is. I guess you get settled in a place and time just ticks by.”

“Well, don’t you dare get settled now. I know we are exhausted, but this is our last night here. Go upstairs and put on your best party dress. I’m going to check with reception to see if there are any messages and get them to make a dinner reservation for us at The Shelbourne and order us a taxi. Is that okay?”

Popsy nodded. “You’re certainly keeping us busy.” She smiled. “But I just want to go for a quick bath first.”

Chapter 26 

Late-Night Ladies

Stepping into The Shelbourne was a little like stepping into an Agatha Christie movie. The grand façade let them know they were somewhere special. Their beloved American flag hung proudly beside the Irish green, white, and gold over the front door, along with other European flags. Just outside stood the ever-smiling doorman, resplendent in his tails and top hat.

    “I feel like I’m in a Dickens movie.” Sandra giggled.

“Oh, no. Dickens is too dark and the stories always involve poverty. I’m thinking more like
The Great Gatsby,
” Popsy suggested.

“Much better idea.” Sandra took her by the hand, and they walked into the hotel lobby where bellboys in pillbox hats hovered. A blazing fire welcomed new guests to sit and relax on two enormous sofas that flanked the marble fireplace. Overhead, a gigantic chandelier twinkled a million hellos with bright droplets of light.

“We are so staying here the next time we come to town,” Sandra announced. They walked over to the smiling receptionist.

“Hi, I’m looking for the bar,” Sandra said.

“Would that be the Oyster Bar or the Horseshoe Bar?”

Meanwhile, Popsy took a moment to enjoy her surroundings. The last time she’d been in The Shelbourne was with her late mother. She wandered into the room on the right. It was pretty much as she remembered it: a collection of smaller tables with Queen Anne chairs against the walls, along with the occasional chaise. It was sublime, elegant, and perfect.

During the day, this is where they served their renowned afternoon tea, but tonight it was full of party people enjoying themselves. The room overlooked busy Dublin traffic and just across the street was the famous St. Stephen’s Green. Popsy wondered if she’d have time to walk through the park the next day. Sunday had been set aside for her to show Sandra around Trinity College and Grafton Street, but she might be able to fit that in, too.