I gazed at his eyes, bright green, set wide apart, whites perfectly clear, framed with thick, dark lashes. I took in the curve of his lips, the high angle of his cheekbones, and his long jaw that gently rounded to his chin. I caught my breath when I saw there was a girl sitting in the car’s passenger seat.
“Figures,” I muttered.
Adam glanced in my direction and said something to the girl. She looked at me warily and I felt a flush of embarrassment creep up my neck. Was I that obvious?
Get a grip. Squaring my shoulders, I turned to walk into town. I didn’t see the old man approaching me until I was right in front of him.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” I smiled, expecting him to apologize too, or perhaps step aside to let me by. But he just stood there, his watery gray eyes focused on mine.
“Well … excuse me,” I said, stepping off the sidewalk and quickening my pace. I looked back at the old man. He was wearing a brown cloak with a rope around his waist like some bizarre monk. His long gray hair hung loose down his back, and his beard was tied with a leather clip. His expressionless face turned to me.
I whipped my head around and didn’t glance behind me again. Odd; I felt like his face jogged a memory, but I couldn’t quite place it.
I focused on navigating the ten-minute walk to the marina where my dad worked. The club, though small, was world-renowned, and this manager position was the opportunity of a lifetime for my dad. Pulling on the shiny brass door handle, I walked inside and went straight to the receptionist’s desk.
“Hi, I’m Megan Rosenberg; I’m here to see my dad, Caleb.”
“Ah, Mr. Rosenberg’s daughter—I wondered when I’d see you. Did you enjoy your first day at school, pet? It’s a nice school we have here. My own daughter was a student there until last year. She’s in college now in Limerick.”
Not knowing what else to do, I nodded.
She cocked her head to the side and gave me a big motherly smile. “I’ll just call him and let him know you’re here, dear.”
A few minutes later, my dad came wandering in. “Megan!” he exclaimed. “How was your first day?”
I pulled my dad away from the reception desk. “It was mostly good, I think.”
“Make any friends?” Dad said, following his usual first-day script.
“I made a few friends. One girl, Caitlin, is really nice.”
“Caitlin Brennan?” the receptionist piped up.
“Er, yeah,” I replied slowly. Wow, this really was a small town.
“Her mother owns the Misty Moorings bed-and-breakfast.” She smiled.
My dad discreetly rolled his eyes and directed me out the front door. “Sybil,” he said, as if that explained it all. “Tell me, what was your first day really like?”
“Honestly, it was one of the better ones. Something feels different this time.”
“I know what you mean, Meg. I think your mom’s looking after us,” he said wistfully, glancing up to the sky.
“Maybe.”
“Or it could be that Irish blood in you; it’s back on home turf.”
“I have Irish blood?”
“It’s pretty diluted, but it’s definitely in there. Your mom’s grandfather came from somewhere near here, I think. Somewhere in County Cork.”
“I guess that explains the freckles,” I said, inspecting my arms. “So, are you going to show me around your vast empire?” I put my arm in the air and waved it around extravagantly. “It looks very fancy. Is your office nice?”
My dad was happy to give me the grand tour: the boats, the marina, and the club. I tried to look interested, but water and boats were never my thing. Truthfully, water had always sort of freaked me out. It held an allure for me, but one that felt dangerous, so I generally gave it a wide berth.
“I’m so proud of you, Dad,” I said, after he had shown me everything there was to see. “You’re definitely onto a winner here. How did you manage to swing this job?”
“I’m still not sure,” he replied. “Someone recommended me, but I don’t know who. I just wish I could thank whoever it was. I’ll never get an opportunity like this again.”
“Well, you deserve it.” I paused. “One thing, though.”
He looked at me nervously.
“I’m seriously going to need a cell phone.”
He looked relieved. “We’ll get right on that! Come on. I’m finishing up early, and I’m going to treat you to a big bag of fish and chips. When in Ireland, do as the Irish do!”
“Sounds good,” I said, hooking my arm into his. “Lead the way.”
Dad pulled the door open for me and I found myself face-to-face with a shocked Adam DeRís.
“Mr. Rosenberg,” Adam said, avoiding my eyes.
“Hello, Adam. This is my daughter, Megan,” Dad introduced me. “Adam is one of our instructors.”
I didn’t know where to look.
“Nice to meet you, Megan,” he muttered, and started backing away, tripping over himself. “I’m sorry, Mr. Rosenberg, but I’m in a hurry.”
“Of course, of course.” My dad’s forehead was crinkled in confusion as he leaned closer to me. “That was weird. He’s normally so friendly. Never mind, let’s get those chips.”
With my stomach twisting uncomfortably, the last thing I felt like was fries. I glanced over my shoulder at the fast-departing Adam.
“Don’t worry about him, Dad,” I said, faking a smile. “I’m not bothered.”
But I was lying. Adam’s reaction did bother me. It bothered me so much it hurt.
Two
DAY TWO
And that was why I found myself standing at the school gates forty-five minutes before classes started.
Half an hour went by, and while other students had started to pour in, there was no sign of Adam. I looked anxiously up and down the road.
A
