full-length mirror. Julie might be right; she was getting too thin. On the other hand, Elliot hated fat women, and he always commented when she put on a pound or two. Maybe tonight she could treat herself to an entrée and a main course, but not a dessert – she hadn’t eaten one of those for four years.
As she made her way across the foyer wearing a sleeveless black Donna Karan mini dress, fuchsia pink Manolo Blahnik mules and a matching silk wrap, heads turned. Sitting at the bar, deep in conversation with someone, was Elliot.
‘Hello Darling,’ she said as she approached him.
‘Oh hi,’ Elliot replied and continued talking to his companion.
‘Well, this must be the lovely Mrs Heller. You’re a lucky man Elliot. What can I get you to drink Mrs Heller?’
‘Anna, please’ she replied, ‘I’d like a sparkling water.’
Elliot never chatted to people. He must be really relaxing at last, she thought.
‘Ah now Anna, if that’s what you really want then thy will be done, but since we’re celebrating, maybe I could tempt you to something a bit more cheerful?’
‘What are we celebrating?’ Anna asked, raising an eyebrow at Elliot. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know your name Mr...’
‘Tony, Tony Walsh. I’m sorry Anna, I thought Elliot had mentioned me. Obviously, he was so preoccupied with your beauty and your charm that a big eejit like myself didn’t come up in conversation. Frankly, I don’t blame him. If I was lucky enough to be married to you, I wouldn’t be talking business either,’ Tony said smoothly.
‘Business?’ Anna said, sounding surprised, ‘I didn't know you knew anyone in Ireland Elliot? What sort of business?’
‘It’s nothing,’ Elliot replied briskly ‘Tony and I have been talking for the past few weeks, just bouncing a few ideas around about a bit of potential real estate development over here, nothing for you to worry about Anna,’ he added dismissively.
Elliot turned his attention back to his companion, ‘So where are we going for dinner? I’m starving.’
‘Well, I told the architect and the planning rep to meet us in Jean-Claude’s at eight if that suits you both? It’s French, but the portions are Irish. So you won’t be going for chips afterwards! Righty-ho will we go so?’
Tony stood up and drained his pint, Elliot finished his whiskey and, as Anna never actually had her drink, they walked out of the bar.
Patrick was enjoying himself as he walked into the town with a pronounced spring in his step. The late afternoon sun was reflecting off the water in the harbour and the clinking of masts on the dozens of boats moored in the harbour provided a pleasant soundtrack to this colourful and cheery little place. He felt truly at home.
He had done some family research before his departure. He had visited an aunt-in-law in New York, who told him that she thought his great-great grandfather had come from County Cork, but as he emigrated in the 1870s, there was nobody still alive who could provide any more detail. Patrick would have loved to hear all about a long Irish lineage, and maybe even meet up with some cousins here, but based on the little information he had acquired to date, that seemed impossible. Strolling along a side street, he caught a waft of garlic coming from a nearby pub. He’d only had a light lunch, so maybe an early dinner mightn’t be a bad idea.
He found himself a corner table and made himself comfortable. A thin waitress with unnaturally black hair and a very pointy nose appeared, and, in heavily accented English, asked him what he would like to order.
‘Well Miss, what would you recommend for a returning Irishman?’ he asked jovially.
‘Specials are on board, everything else is on menu, it is all good,’ she replied brusquely, clearly impatient to take the order.
A bit chastened by her attitude, he asked for fish and chips and a pint of Guinness. Patrick had hoped to be served by an Irish colleen, all freckles and smiles, not
As she made her way across the foyer wearing a sleeveless black Donna Karan mini dress, fuchsia pink Manolo Blahnik mules and a matching silk wrap, heads turned. Sitting at the bar, deep in conversation with someone, was Elliot.
‘Hello Darling,’ she said as she approached him.
‘Oh hi,’ Elliot replied and continued talking to his companion.
‘Well, this must be the lovely Mrs Heller. You’re a lucky man Elliot. What can I get you to drink Mrs Heller?’
‘Anna, please’ she replied, ‘I’d like a sparkling water.’
Elliot never chatted to people. He must be really relaxing at last, she thought.
‘Ah now Anna, if that’s what you really want then thy will be done, but since we’re celebrating, maybe I could tempt you to something a bit more cheerful?’
‘What are we celebrating?’ Anna asked, raising an eyebrow at Elliot. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know your name Mr...’
‘Tony, Tony Walsh. I’m sorry Anna, I thought Elliot had mentioned me. Obviously, he was so preoccupied with your beauty and your charm that a big eejit like myself didn’t come up in conversation. Frankly, I don’t blame him. If I was lucky enough to be married to you, I wouldn’t be talking business either,’ Tony said smoothly.
‘Business?’ Anna said, sounding surprised, ‘I didn't know you knew anyone in Ireland Elliot? What sort of business?’
‘It’s nothing,’ Elliot replied briskly ‘Tony and I have been talking for the past few weeks, just bouncing a few ideas around about a bit of potential real estate development over here, nothing for you to worry about Anna,’ he added dismissively.
Elliot turned his attention back to his companion, ‘So where are we going for dinner? I’m starving.’
‘Well, I told the architect and the planning rep to meet us in Jean-Claude’s at eight if that suits you both? It’s French, but the portions are Irish. So you won’t be going for chips afterwards! Righty-ho will we go so?’
Tony stood up and drained his pint, Elliot finished his whiskey and, as Anna never actually had her drink, they walked out of the bar.
Patrick was enjoying himself as he walked into the town with a pronounced spring in his step. The late afternoon sun was reflecting off the water in the harbour and the clinking of masts on the dozens of boats moored in the harbour provided a pleasant soundtrack to this colourful and cheery little place. He felt truly at home.
He had done some family research before his departure. He had visited an aunt-in-law in New York, who told him that she thought his great-great grandfather had come from County Cork, but as he emigrated in the 1870s, there was nobody still alive who could provide any more detail. Patrick would have loved to hear all about a long Irish lineage, and maybe even meet up with some cousins here, but based on the little information he had acquired to date, that seemed impossible. Strolling along a side street, he caught a waft of garlic coming from a nearby pub. He’d only had a light lunch, so maybe an early dinner mightn’t be a bad idea.
He found himself a corner table and made himself comfortable. A thin waitress with unnaturally black hair and a very pointy nose appeared, and, in heavily accented English, asked him what he would like to order.
‘Well Miss, what would you recommend for a returning Irishman?’ he asked jovially.
‘Specials are on board, everything else is on menu, it is all good,’ she replied brusquely, clearly impatient to take the order.
A bit chastened by her attitude, he asked for fish and chips and a pint of Guinness. Patrick had hoped to be served by an Irish colleen, all freckles and smiles, not
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