Page 46 of An Irish Summer

We hope this finds you well, and we hope you’ll excuse the late submission.

Attached please find the portfolio of applicant Chelsea Gold.

She has made an invaluable impact on not only The Wanderer as an institution, but also on the staff and guests she worked with during her short time here.

Our events calendar is fuller and more vibrant than it’s been in years, and we have only Chelsea to thank.

Since she has done so much for us, it is our hope we can do the same for her in her future endeavors.

Please consider this our heartfelt recommendation.

Sláinte,

Lori O’Shea (Owner), Collin Finegan (Tours), and Florence Rossi (House Chef)

“You had no idea they sent this, did you?” Bridgette asked as she watched me read and reread the email.

“No, it’s, uh, no,” I said. “I didn’t.” I was too stunned to pretend I wasn’t. After all the fuss about me leaving, they went

through the trouble of putting together this portfolio and recommending me for the job?

“Seems like you made quite the impression,” she said. “Which makes me wonder, Chelsea, why did you leave?”

“The summer ended,” I said automatically. Another fact. “It was the end of my contract.”

“Doesn’t sound like it had to be,” she said. “Let me ask you one more question. Not as a potential employer, but woman to

woman.” She leaned her forearms on the table, bringing her face closer to mine. “Is this really what you want?”

In the silence that followed, we both had our answer. There was only one thing I wanted, and once again, everyone had seen

it before me. But I was done being the last to know.

“Ms. Gantz, I’m so sorry.”

“I understand,” she said, a smile creasing her eyes.

“I think you would have been great here based on this portfolio. I really do. And maybe our paths will cross again someday. But it doesn’t seem like you would be happy here.

At least not as happy as you’d be there.

And that really is what’s important, isn’t it? ”

“I’m so embarrassed,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I shouldn’t have wasted your time. And I should have had this

conversation with myself a long time ago.” I tried to laugh, and the warmth in her eyes glowed brightly. “Please know how

sorry I am.”

“No apologies necessary,” she said with a smile. “Only to yourself, perhaps.” Her kindness made me feel even guiltier for

wasting her time.

“It’s a beautiful hotel,” I said as I gathered my things, slightly nostalgic already for a life that could have been.

“Ah, this old thing?” She waved her hand around. “It isn’t much. You won’t be missing anything.”

I could have hugged her for how easy she was making this experience, which for her was a minor inconvenience and me a monumental

life change.

“Thank you,” I said, praying she knew how much I meant it. “Not only for your time, but for your forgiveness. And for the

push in the right direction.”

“That’s what hospitality is about, isn’t it? Taking care of each other?”

I was too overwhelmed to respond properly, so instead I followed her to the door and tried to contemplate what would happen

when I left. “Take care, Chelsea,” she said, shaking my hand once more.

“You too, Ms. Gantz.”

The conference room door clicked behind me, and my legs car ried my back through the lobby and out to my car independent of my brain. I sat behind the wheel for a few minutes resisting the urge to scream at the top of my lungs or burst into tears.

Where do you go when you realize your dream isn’t your dream at all? When you realize your new dream is the exact thing you

thought you never wanted?

When you thought your ideal future was the metropolitan city you’d grown up in, a senior position and a husband and a picket

fence by thirty-five, and instead it was an unruly hostel on the Irish coast with a patchwork family and no real plan beyond

each day?

If I knew one thing, it was that the answer wasn’t back to your parents’ house . Ada would know what to do. I picked up the phone, and she answered on the second ring.

“Welcome home!” she shouted as soon as she picked up. “How was the interview? Don’t answer that, actually. Are we still on

for drinks? I want to hear all about it in person. Was that a sigh? What’s wrong? Was it horrible?”

I laughed, and I could almost hear her relax on the other end of the phone. “It was... something,” I said. “Are you busy?

Or can you meet me at the bar right now?”

“I’m on my way,” she said, and I almost laughed. There was no better friend than Ada. “You’re freaking me out, Chels.”

“I’m fine,” I said, surprised that I actually meant it. “I’ll see you at Jefferson’s in a few. I’ll tell you everything, promise.”

I was already on a barstool when Ada came crashing through the door, hair a mess and tote bag falling off her shoulder. She

ordered a vodka Diet Coke from the bartender with a wide smile before snapping her attention to me, brows furrowed and smile

turned into a line.

“I think I have to go back to Ireland,” I blurted before she could say anything. And for what might have been the first time in her entire life, Ada was speechless.

“Please say something,” I said after an agonizing minute of silence.

“You need to go back, like, for good?” she asked, drink halfway to her mouth.

“I do,” I said, trying to maintain some resolve. “I mean, not forever. But at least for right now.”

“What happened at the interview?”

“I just realized it wasn’t the dream I thought it was,” I said. “I was so concerned with getting back here to the life I thought

I was supposed to have that I didn’t even realize it was becoming less and less the life I wanted . I know it sounds crazy. I really do. But sitting in that conference room, it just didn’t feel like my life anymore. It felt

like someone else’s.”

“Wow,” she said, accompanied by a slow exhale. “You’re serious about this?”

“I know how it sounds,” I said. “But I am.”

“What does this mean for you and Collin, then?”

Goose bumps covered my body at the sound of his name, and I was relieved to finally see her smile. “Okay, first of all, you

know this isn’t about him, right? I don’t want you to think I’m moving halfway across the world for a boy.”

“Of course not,” she said. “That’s more something I would do.” We both laughed. “But it is a perk, isn’t it? That there will

be a gorgeous Irishman who loves you there when you get back?”

“I don’t know that he’ll be there. Or that he still loves me.”

“Because I’m a good friend, I’ll pretend to believe you.”

“Seriously, Ada. I mean, physically he will be, obviously. He’ll probably be at the Wanderer until end of days. But we didn’t end on a great note, so I’m not sure he’ll be thrilled to see me.”

“Okay, I can’t pretend anymore.”

“That was short-lived.”

“The man loves you, Chels. He spent all his days off this summer trotting you around a country you thought you hated, trying

to convince you to love it. You didn’t end on a great note because he couldn’t bear to see you leave. He’ll be thrilled to

see you. He’d be crazy not to be.”

My skin was crawling with anticipation. If I could have snapped my fingers and been back at the Wanderer in an instant, I’d

have already been gone.

“Am I really doing this?”

“Leaving me, you mean?” she said. “Leaving your dear best friend behind?”

“Ada! Don’t do that, please.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Yes, Chelsea. You are doing this. And you can do this. And I’ll remind you of that every step of the way if that’s what you need.”

“How am I going to live across an ocean from you?” I said, fighting the prickly onslaught of tears.

“We made it through the summer, didn’t we? What’s another, you know, indefinite amount of time?” We tried to laugh, but I

could tell she was fighting the same tears. “Chels, you are my sister. No stretch of ocean is going to make that any less

true. We have technology, and I’ll come out to visit! If any friendship can withstand this, it’s ours.”

We were both freely crying now, but they weren’t just sad tears. We’d seen each other through every stage of life so far,

and this was just another piece of our story.

“I never could have done any of this without you,” I said.

“Oh, stop. Give yourself some credit. You’ve done huge things here! You’ve taken risks, you’ve put yourself out there, you’ve

trusted your intuition. I’m really, really proud of you, babe.”

“Thank you,” I sniffled.

“It’s an honor,” she said. “I canceled the rest of the meetings I had today. What do you say we go back to your parents’ house,

order Thai from that place down the street, and get you ready to go?”

The relief of having Ada’s support, having someone beside me while I figured out my next step, was almost too much to bear.

All I could do was nod.

“I love you,” I said eventually, reaching out to squeeze her hand.

“I love you more.”

I sniffled once more at the familiar refrain and pulled her into my arms. We laughed at ourselves, at the scene we were making

in public, before paying the bill and heading in the direction of my parents’ house.

Ada and I spent the night much like we had two months ago, before I left for Ireland the first time. Only this one had none

of the uncertainty, none of the anxiety, none of the fear. Galway was no longer the unknown.

Together, we ticked off everything on my checklist: call Lori and take her up on her offer to return, talk to my parents,

book a five a.m. flight, gather my still-packed luggage, and spend one more night in Boston before I left on a new adventure.

She was right. I could do this.