Made With Love

Chapter 13

 ‘Julie? Julie, you alright there?’

I jerk upright and the swivel chair rockets very nearly out from underneath me. Did I fall asleep?!

‘I’ve been looking all over for you,’ Dermot smiles at me across the desk. ‘Ya had me worried sick!’

My heart clenches. This big, scruffy man was worried about me?

‘I’m so sorry, Dermot! I was working, and I must’ve nodded off.’

‘Working on a Sunday night? Now,’ he grins.

I click on the St Enda’s website and refresh the log. Five hundred and twenty-six hits!

‘Look at this,’ I beam, spinning the laptop around to face Dermot. He scans the page, eyes getting wider and wider as I click through the icons. ‘And we have orders coming in. Two from Spain, five from the UK, five more from the States!’

‘Be God,’ he breathes.

‘This changes things, right? For the co-op, I mean.’

‘Well,’ he tugs at his chin.

‘It’s a start, anyway,’ I say.

‘Bridie’ll be chuffed!’ Dermot says.

‘Shit!’ Bridie!

‘What? What is it?’ Dermot gapes.

‘There’s a tour coming at eleven!’ I’ve been asleep all night. And I’m a wreck!

‘You’ve loads of time. It’s just gone nine.’

‘Nine?’

Dermot chuckles at me as I tear ahead of him up the hill to the cottage. I take a lightening shower and throw on a fresh pair of jeans and my standard four layers of cami + cami + shirt + sweater.

‘Take these up to the girls,’ Dermot says when I bolt back through the kitchen. He hands me a tin of scones—blueberry, this time.

‘Does she always apologize with baked goods?’ I ask.

He grabs at the sides of his formidable belly. ‘What do you think?’ he laughs.

St. Enda’s is wall to wall when I jog up—a huddle of people out the back and three flat beds parked at the cargo bay. Aoife waves me over.

‘These lads have three cart loads of milk,’ she says. ‘They can’t sell ’em in the mart. They wanted to know could we take ’em?’

I scan the truck beds. There must be twenty canisters there.

‘Mart won’t take ’em,’ one of the farmers shrugs. ‘We haven’t been able to shift a thing since the talks fell through.’

The other two shake their heads. ‘That’s right,’ they say. Their jaws work with a quiet determination. I got the feeling this wasn’t the first time they’d been up against a wall.

‘Where’s Bridie?’ the lead man asks.

‘I told you, she’s not in,’ Aoife huffs.

‘Right. C’mon, lads,’ the man says, head hung low.

‘Wait! I can take three barrels off each of you,’ I say, heart knocking in my chest. That should be enough to cover the excess orders.

‘But we can’t afford that!’ Aoife screeches. ‘We’re stretched as it is.’

‘I’ll take care of it,’ I say, my voice easy and firm. All I have to do is shuffle some money around from my savings. Would that be enough? There’s always Clare’s check. I can cash that in.