The Rose Garden (34 page)

‘There must have been some great dinners held here!’ he said, admiring the dining room.

Rob was an interesting man, intelligent and bright. She was surprised by the way he recognized the makers of the table and chairs and sideboard.

‘You have an interest in the furniture of the period?’

‘My dad was a carpenter. He spent most of his time building wardrobes and kitchens and putting in floors and stairs, but at heart he was a craftsman. He made some beautiful pieces of furniture and had a huge respect for the craftsmen of old and their work.’

‘He sounds a nice man.’

‘He was old-fashioned and decent. Never earned that much, but he was proud of his work and of us, his family. He hoped I’d follow him into the trade, but my passion was engineering. I was all fingers and thumbs when it came to woodwork. I nearly chopped off my finger one time!’ Rob laughed, showing her his middle finger, which was scarred and rather swollen.

Molly led him into the orangery.

‘This is some room!’ he exclaimed, amazed. ‘It feels like you are outside although you are inside. It’s perfect for what we want. Maybe there could be a little music to welcome everyone?’

‘A harp or violin playing?’

‘Nah – I was thinking more along the lines of a bit of light jazz or something.’

Molly loved jazz. It was her secret passion.

‘I know a good local jazz trio,’ she offered, ‘so leave that with me.’

A few minutes later Molly was giving him the details and costs for hiring the house and handing him a copy of Gina’s menus.

‘I’ll talk to her about the food,’ he promised, ‘but can you book us in for having the post-launch dinner here?’

She smiled. He certainly was decisive.

After tea Molly was curled up in the chair in the kitchen reading her copy of James Joyce’s
Dubliners
, her book club’s latest choice. Soon she was lost in the short stories of a master. The next meeting of their book club was here in Mossbawn on Tuesday. She looked forward to these meetings, where people of all ages got together to talk about books. She had already picked out her choice for next month:
The Secret Garden
, a classic and so well loved.

There was a text message on her phone and she checked it.

‘
Thanks for showing me around your beautiful home, Rob.
’

He really was a nice man, she thought – really nice.

GINA CHECKED THE TABLE LAYOUTS. THE CHURCH SERVICE
should be finishing, with guests arriving in about fifteen to twenty minutes. Everything looked perfect. Inga had the champagne flutes set up and tall mojito glasses prepared; Brendan was ready to make up jugs of the cocktail for the guests on arrival. The weather was glorious and the drinks would be served out on the lawn, where they had set up tables and chairs and parasols. Kim had told her it would be a fun and rather stylish wedding, as the bride worked designing film and theatre costumes and her partner was a film editor. The garden looked amazing. Molly had had Paddy and Tommy cut the grass the day before and the flowerbeds were bursting with colour. The lamb was roasting in the oven and everything was running smoothly, with plans to serve in about two hours. This week had been busy, with the dinner for the launch of that new bio-engineering company on Thursday night. There had been a big crowd attending that, but it had all gone perfectly.

Looking at the diary, they seemed to have a good range of bookings for the months ahead. She enjoyed the fact that she knew where she was and what she was doing and that prices were pretty much set by people’s menu choice.

‘I think at the moment one wedding a week or at the weekend is plenty for us to manage,’ Molly had insisted. ‘I have no intention of letting Mossbawn become one of these places
that has one couple going out the door when another is coming in. We have something very special here and we need to hold on to the fact that visiting Mossbawn is a unique and rare experience.’

Gina totally agreed and felt if they held another, smaller event or celebration during the week that would be ideal. The diary gave her a very good picture of planning the coming months and deciding if she needed to hire serving or bar staff. She still missed the café and working with Norah and meeting all the customers. Now her job was very different and involved working evenings and late on a Friday or Saturday. Kim’s website certainly had done the trick: it was getting attention and attracting people to Mossbawn House and Gardens.

The three of them worked well together. Molly and Kim dealt with all the initial enquiries about the house and then later Gina was the one who met people to discuss the function they were planning with detailed menus, costings and wine lists. That was something she really enjoyed – tailoring the event to what they wanted.

Andrew Lynch, the manager of the Woodlands Hotel, had arranged to meet Molly, Kim and herself about Mossbawn’s new plans.

‘We don’t intend to compete with you,’ Molly assured him. ‘The kind of weddings and functions we are doing are first of all limited by the size of the house itself, and also we have no intention of taking on large functions.’

‘I know that. The kind of person who wants to hold a gathering or meal or wedding in Mossbawn is not interested in the kind of function space we offer,’ he ruefully admitted, ‘but what we would hope is that the Woodlands could offer guests attending here a special room rate and even a family meal the night before the wedding. Attracting visitors to a country hotel is tough, as we all know, in this climate! I think having Mossbawn House so close to us is a positive.’

‘That’s nice to hear,’ said Molly with a smile, ‘and it should be
no problem. We all need to pull together, help each other out. Gina and I are doing our best to source most of our meat and fish and vegetables and cheese locally.’

Gina smiled. Andrew Lynch might only be young, but he had a very good business brain and recognized an opportunity when he saw it.

In three weeks’ time they were hosting a big family reunion over two days. A sit-down meal, drinks reception and a barbecue and family picnic for young and old in the garden. It was the O’Flynn clan family gathering, with O’Flynns returning from Chicago and New York to meet up with all the Irish side of the family who lived in the Kilfinn and Glengarry area. Gina was trying to create a menu that would suit everyone and yet was firmly traditional. Andrew had organized rooms and car hire for all those that needed them.

‘Gina, you’re busier than ever!’ teased Paul. ‘At this rate I’ll have to book a Saturday night to take you out.’

‘We can go out on a Thursday or maybe a Friday!’ she joked. ‘But if we have a function, Saturday is my busy night. I have to make sure everything is right. It’s my responsibility.’

‘I know you do, love,’ he said. ‘You are the best organizer I know, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have some time for ourselves.’

Gina knew he was right. There had to be more than just work and the kids. Paul was getting a lot more work lately and was doing a great job on the renovation of Molly’s cottage.

‘So I’ve booked for us to go away to Kinsale for two nights,’ he said, brooking no arguments. ‘Your sister will mind the kids while we have a break. God knows you deserve it. I’ve booked a few fancy restaurants and our hotel is the big one overlooking the water.’

‘Can we afford it?’ she asked, worried.

‘I got a great deal because we are going mid-week.’ He laughed. ‘And I checked with Molly to make sure that you were free!’

Gina hugged him. Paul was the best husband ever. He was so
kind and thoughtful. Even if he hadn’t a penny he would treat her to something. Two nights away was paradise. She loved Kinsale with all its restaurants and cafés and bars. The Cork fishing village was a renowned foodie paradise, with some great fish restaurants and chefs. She couldn’t wait for their romantic break.

Ellie Gould, the bride, looked stunning in a bejewelled, floor-length, thirties-style dress which showed off her tall, slim figure and striking red hair. The wedding meal had gone smoothly and the speeches had been hilarious, everyone relaxed and at ease as the bride and groom’s three children ran around the place. They cleared away some tables from the orangery for dancing; there would be a DJ later, but as three members of one of the country’s well-known rock bands were guests, they would perform a few numbers first. Just before twelve there would be fireworks in the garden, followed by midnight snacks. The night was warm, so many of the guests were drifting in and out of the orangery to chat and smoke.

Gina finished clearing up and checked her phone, which she had put on silent for the past few hours. There was a message from her sister and one from a number she didn’t recognize an hour ago. She phoned it back.

‘Oh Gina, it’s Marian from Beech Hill nursing home. I’m sorry it’s so late, but I was just phoning to let you know that Norah Cassidy passed away very peacefully a few hours ago. I know you were a friend of hers and I thought you should know.’

‘Oh Marian, thanks. What happened to her?’

‘Nothing dramatic, really. She’d had her tea and was sitting in the chair in her room watching the TV. One of our nurses went in to help her get changed and ready for bed and she thought at first Norah had dozed off, but then realized that she had passed away peacefully in the chair …’

‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear she’s gone! I saw her last week, but to be honest I don’t think she had a clue who I was, though she enjoyed having a bit of company.’

‘She was a nice woman. I’ve informed her family, but I know you were very good to her, Gina.’

‘Marian, thanks for letting me know – I appreciate it.’

Gina walked outside to gather herself.

The fireworks had already started, crowds everywhere on the lawn as the explosions of noise and colours and shooting flames lit up the night sky. As she looked up in the darkness she thought of Norah. She would miss the old woman, but was so glad she was finally free of old age and illness.

GINA SULLIVAN COULDN’T BELIEVE IT WHEN MICHAEL QUINN, THE
solicitor, asked her to come to a meeting with the other beneficiaries of Norah’s will in his office two days after Norah’s funeral.

The funeral had been a big one, attended by all the people of Kilfinn who had enjoyed the hospitality of Norah’s café over the years. Father Darragh said the mass and spoke some lovely words about Norah and her life lived in the heart of Kilfinn village and parish.

‘Norah never needed to travel, as her life was enriched by those around her. And there were many whose lives she touched, whether it was a cup of coffee for a poor man, an apple tart for a friend, or a birthday cake for a family that were struggling. Norah could always be relied on to help those who were in need.’

Norah was buried simply and without fuss in the local graveyard beside her parents, with a roast-beef lunch held in the Kilfinn Inn afterwards.

Paul came to the meeting with Gina. Norah’s nephew and cousin were there, sitting in front of them, and Father Darragh was also present as Michael read out the will, which had been written almost two years ago. There was a generous donation to the parish-church restoration fund and to the local Vincent de Paul Society, which Father Darragh helped to run. There was also a donation to the County Cats Rescue Society, and money for an overseas charity working with women in Africa.

Gina couldn’t believe it when she was named as the next beneficiary, with the remainder of Norah’s estate to be divided equally between her remaining family.

‘As you all know, even though Norah’s business and home had been sold prior to her death, there were certain costs with regard to her nursing and medical care and other expenses, but I have prepared a letter detailing the amount each of you will receive once probate has been granted,’ Michael said, distributing copies to everyone.

From the sharp intake of breath when he opened his letter, Gina could tell that Norah’s nephew, Martin Cassidy, was disappointed. Father Darragh’s eyes were shining as he read his letter. Gina was nervous opening hers.

First off she had been left all Norah’s collection of cookery books. She smiled. They were classics, all currently stored in various boxes in their garage. The next part she could hardly believe. Norah had also left her money, a very large amount: twenty thousand euro! It was so generous. Norah knew how much she and Paul had struggled financially when she first came to work for her. Paul took the letter from her hands to read it.

‘She was very fond of you, Gina. You know that.’

She nodded, so glad that she had made the effort to keep up their special friendship till the end, but still she couldn’t believe it. Thanks to Norah she was going to have money in the bank – money she intended to use well, and in a way of which Norah Cassidy would approve.

‘What the hell has my aunt done?’ protested Martin, standing up. ‘Leaving money to a cats’ home, to the parish, to a girl who worked in the café for her … Norah was gone soft in the head and people were taking advantage of her. She was senile – this isn’t right. I am objecting legally to whatever has gone on here. Norah’s own flesh and blood have been almost cut out of her will!’

‘Your aunt has been quite generous in her bequest to family members,’ the solicitor pointed out.

‘I object to your tone,’ said Father Darragh coldly. ‘Your aunt
was a parishioner in St Patrick’s in Kilfinn all her life. It is not unusual for our parishioners to remember us in their wills.’

‘And she loved cats,’ added Gina. ‘You ask anyone in Beech Hill!’

‘You influenced her. I’m surprised she didn’t leave you everything! You were the one around her … You tricked her, Gina, when she was gone into that home and got her to sign the will.’

Gina swallowed hard. She’d had absolutely nothing to do with Norah’s will.

‘I had no idea Norah would leave me anything,’ she protested. ‘Honestly, Martin, I didn’t expect anything from her except her friendship.’

‘Mr Cassidy, these kinds of accusations do no good,’ said the solicitor. ‘As a matter of fact, your aunt wrote this will here in my office about fifteen months before her illness. She was totally of sound mind and very competently running her own business at the time.’