Who's Your Paddy?

Chapter 13

I sat in my cubicle trying not to read too much into what Mick said. Had it not been for a few evasive answers Liam himself had dished out, I might have been able to dismiss it as paranoia. But I couldn't.

Why would he have a problem with the press? And was he lumping me in?

I opened a Google browser and typed in Liam Murphy. A few obscure articles came up highlighting either Liam or Murphy, but only a few with both names and they weren't connected.

Then I tried William Murphy. Nothing. I dug deeper and went to some Irish internet sites and tried plugging in the same variations on his name. A few references to Paddy Murphy, one, or two other Liam's but nothing specific to him. My desk phone rang, distracting me.

"Editorial, Annie Zwick."

"Finally! I tried you on your cell."

"Uh...Michelle? Oh God, I'm so happy to hear from you."

"Sorry to ring at work, but we just got in yesterday and I couldn't wait to connect."

"Boston, yay! You're there already?"

"Yeah, we wanted to come celebrate Paddy's day with the family and I wanted to go see a few friends. So listen, can you come visit while I'm here?"

"How long you there for?"

"Two weeks, but Brian really wants to see Manhattan too, so we might extend it a week."

"Great. How's everything else going?"

"Excellent. Brian talked to my dad to ask for my hand last night. It was so sweet."

"Aww, how old fashioned. And as far as coming, leave it with me, I got some stuff...well, I can't come before Paddy's day because of work."

"That's okay, come after. We can go visit our old flat in New York!"

"Listen to you! Sounds like you've adopted the tongue of the mother land."

She laughed. "Well, I've been there ages now. Hey, speaking of which, how's stuff with your delicious Irish man?"

"Uh, can't really talk about that here. Lemme call you tonight when I get home."

"Everything okay?"

"I'm not sure."

"Okay, call me later, but wait 'til like...hmm, how many hours apart are we right now?"

"Two."

"Call me at eight your time."

"Okay."

I spent the rest of the day working on the feature. I'd grown accustomed to using a set of headphones as a means to privacy because the editorial department could get quite loud. Having headphones was the next best thing to an office door.

If it wasn't for Paul's large hands waving in front of my face, I might have missed the man standing behind me. I turned to find an old gentleman dressed in a uniform and holding a giant bouquet of plum colored roses.

I ripped off the headphones and leapt from my seat.

"I can guess who those are from!" Paul smiled knowingly.

I stuck my tongue out at him. "Don't be so sure, I have a lot of fans."

Pulling out the small card accompanying the bouquet, I nodded. "It's from him."

'Twas down by Christchurch

that I first met with Annie

A neat little girl