People aren't perfect. Neither is love.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, merchandise, companies, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.
Chapter One
Best Friends
A cold misting rain drifted down from dark grey skies. Though it was late on a Saturday afternoon, the sun was still hidden behind a heavy cloud cover, and the dreariness of a wet winter dragged on in the small, sleepy seaside community of Dalkey, an upscale tourist destination on the eastern coast of Ireland. The shadowy figure of a young woman bundled in a soaked rain parka, carrying loaves of bread made by a local bakery, trudged over a slippery cobblestone road wedged between weathered fieldstone buildings.
Marnie Dunlavy grew up in a working class neighborhood west of the tourist attractions that hugged the coastline of the Irish Sea. There were four generations of Dunlavys living in Dalkey, with each generation making its unique mark on the town's local history. Although Ireland was officially neutral in World War II, her great grandfather, Seamus, served in the Royal Air Force and was decorated for his role as a fighter pilot in the Battle of Britain. Her maternal grandmother was the first female member of the Dublin County Council, and her uncle on her father's side was a literary editor for Maeve Binchy, then a resident of Dalkey, and one of Ireland's most acclaimed novelists.
Marnie had completed her undergraduate studies at nearby Dominion University, and was hoping to pursue a doctorate in English literature, which would make her the first Dunlavy to earn a post-graduate degree. Shortly after she was accepted at Dominion for post-graduate study, her parents were the victims of a head-on collision with a drunk driver, and their untimely deaths put her life into a protracted tailspin.
After the passing of her parents, her two older brothers, Aidan and Blaine, assumed ownership and operation of the family's neighborhood pub, Ramblers End, an establishment on the west side of Dalkey, that had unbroken Dunlavy ownership for over a hundred years. Their longtime family residence was a row house adjoining the pub, and had four bedrooms scattered over three floors. With the death of her parents, Marnie was necessarily pressed into service to help with the pub, and took an indefinite leave from her graduate studies. The unfortunate turn of events put a damper on Marnie's sunny disposition and her own aspirations of becoming a published author.
Upon arriving at the front door to the pub, Marnie lowered her hood and shook her head, shedding the droplets of water clinging to her long curly red hair, frizzy with the humidity. She unlocked and pushed open the wooden plank front door of the pub, her fingers feeling a worn surface rubbed smooth by the hands of generations of customers. She flipped on the light switch, and the antiquated electrical system sputtered and reluctantly turned on, bringing a muted yellowish hued light to the dark, cavernous common area. She hefted the paper bag filled with baguettes and loaves of sourdough bread and carried it to the kitchen, putting it down on the heavily scored butcher block island. The pub offered weekend dinner service, and the fresh baked bread was always a welcome addition to their hearty country fare.
The family dog Guinness, a chocolate lab not yet a year old, greeted Marnie in the kitchen, with the hope of receiving a reward. His thick tail wagged furiously as Marnie patted his head. She broke off the pointed end of a baguette and gave half of it to him. She sat down at the zinc topped bar with a novel she'd been meaning to finish, while her puppy laid next to her, gratefully gnawing on the bread and making quick work of the treat. The pub wasn't scheduled to open for another hour, so that gave her time to relax before the inflow of regulars.
Marnie was extremely close to both her mother and father, so their unexpected passing cast a deep, dark shadow over her life. Even though she put on a brave face for family and friends, the truth was that she was absolutely gutted after she heard about the accident and was still trying to find her footing to resume living. At twenty-four, the bloom of youthful beauty was still evident for all to see, and on the inside seethed a burning desire to see the world and experience the exhilaration of true love, desires and feelings repressed during her two years of mourning and servitude to family obligations.
The tragedy also had a profound effect on Marnie's brothers. Blaine had to leave his job at a local accounting firm, and Aidan had to leave his electrical apprenticeship, with them both sharing the day to day operation of the pub. During the two years after their parents' passing, the brothers had begun the rejuvenation of the aging facility and managed to build an even larger local following and tourist trade. Marnie wanted to pitch in, and though she wouldn't admit it, her easy going manner and prowess in the kitchen also made a major contribution to the success of the family business. It didn't hurt that she was always considered one of the more attractive young women in the community.
Aidan was the middle child, and the younger of the two boys. He was the best looking of the three siblings, and was always cracking a joke or making some wild claim to get a conversation started. He was tall, probably four inches taller than his brother, and looked and talked in a way that would satisfy the fussiest of romance writers. It seemed to Marnie that he was with a different woman every week.
Blaine was the oldest and the most responsible, and also had the best nose for business. He was the serious one. He also had a knack for the trades, and was often seen working with Aidan on revamping the pub's outdated electrical and plumbing system. He was usually in the back office, keeping the books and paying the bills, and letting Aidan run the front of the house. He had a steady girlfriend for as long as Marnie could remember. She expected that they would get married someday.
It wasn't her brothers, but her best friend, Fiona Ahern, who helped get her through the worst of it.
Fiona lived only a block away from the pub, and had been best friends with Marnie since primary school. Fiona worked for the state-owned postal service as a manager in their regional distribution center. Fiona started working there after graduation from high school, and was promoted several times in a few short years to her current position. Fiona was stocky, heavyset, with a heart of gold. She spent many a late night consoling her friend over the loss of her parents.
Marnie's brothers were protective of their little sister, and even more so after their parents passed away. She probably needed that protection, having blossomed into a classic Irish beauty, fair of skin, long ginger red hair that naturally went into tight curls, creamy white skin dappled with fine freckles, and the full, rounded breasts of a mature woman. Only the bravest of souls courted Marnie, risking the watchful eyes of her two large, muscular brothers. As a result, Marnie was still a virgin, and had never gone past second base with a man.
Of course, her parents passing away put on hold Marnie's interest in sex, and her general ambivalence about men certainly didn't help matters. As a result, her good looks meant generous tips, but she easily pushed away the men at the pub. She never understood the fuss women made about men. Fiona was especially nonplussed at Marnie's disinterest in men. She would have killed for Marnie's figure, and the compliments and catcalls it brought with it. More than once, Fiona asked her best friend if she was gay, and Marnie always said no, Fiona not knowing that Marnie never really asked herself that question and never attempted to have a relationship with a woman. Marnie never had any boyfriends to speak of, but her brothers, being oblivious as most men are, chalked it up to her shyness, never suspecting she might be gay.
As Marnie was finishing the crusty end of the baguette she heard a knock on the delivery entrance in the kitchen. Guinness scrambled to his feet and put his nose against the door. She reluctantly put down her book and went to open it. She expected it would be her best friend, who usually spent Saturday afternoon and evening keeping her company, and laughing and joking with the locals and the occasional tourists that packed the raucous neighborhood pub on the weekends.
Fiona smiling face greeted Marnie when she opened the door. Fiona hung her soaked rain slicker on a coat hook and stomped her boots before entering the cramped kitchen. She gave her best friend a bear hug, and then bent over and scratched the lab behind his ears. Marnie turned on the stove, heating a kettle of water for their afternoon tea. Fiona helped herself to another chunk of bread from the baguette already started by Marnie, rummaging through the commercial refrigerator for a pot of orange marmalade. Fiona put a generous dollop of marmalade on her crust of bread and took her first satisfying bite.
"So good ... but it's so bad for my figure," joked Fiona, easily a size 16. Fiona was self-confident enough not to be jealous of her friend, who could eat like a horse and still retain her sleek profile. She pushed Guinness's wet nose away, begging for another treat.
Fiona picked up the novel that Marnie had been reading, a well-worn hard cover edition of "The Godfather," the spine starting to separate from the bound pages.
"A little light reading, eh?" she asked, tossing the novel back onto the counter with a resounding thud.
"I just started this one. This author has a wonderful command of the English language. It's a fascinating story about the origins of organized crime in America," Marnie explained. Fiona knew that Marnie was enamored of American culture, and heard her mention numerous times that she wanted to visit the States.
"First things first. Have you given some thought to re-starting your graduate program?" It'd been over almost two years since the accident, and Fiona figured that Marnie couldn't languish much longer as a barmaid.
Marnie realized that Fiona wasn't nagging, she was acknowledging reality -- a reality Marnie didn't know she was ready to face. Since her parent's death, Marnie found she didn't want to leave the safety and security of the family pub.
