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.
“I don’t know … ” mused Marnie. “I’m not sure I’m ready to go back.”
Her friend knew better. “You’re ready. You’ve been ready.” She decided to kick start Marnie’s thought process and shake the rust off. “What’s the first step you need to take to get back on track?”
Marnie thought for a moment as she tended the whistling tea kettle. She made a cup for each of them, then took a sip of her piping hot beverage. “I’ve been accepted at Dominion, but I need to find a faculty advisor.”
“How do you do that?” asked Fiona, wanting to keep the ball rolling. Fiona knew that Marnie had deferred admission for two years to the highly respected university located near their town’s center.
“I think I need to chat with the head of the English department and get her recommendation. Then I think it’s up to me.”
“Do it, girlfriend. You’re not getting any younger.”
That was the truth. Her friend was right. The timely comment prompted Marnie’s resolution to re-enter the academic world.
* * * * *
Chapter Two
The American
Dr. Lauren Byrne never walked away from a fight and she wasn’t going to walk away from this one — a professional disagreement, about to become personal, at the Dominion University English department’s regular monthly faculty meeting that was held in the same small, stuffy windowless conference room.
“So in summary, Dr. Byrne, your idea for a streamlined curriculum for the undergraduates is commendable, but we don’t have the resources to devote to investigating the merits of your plan,” pronounced Dr. Wentworth, effectively killing the well-thought out suggestion.
Dr. Pamela Wentworth had ruled the department with an iron fist for over twenty years. Her imposing physical presence and domineering personality made change difficult in her department, and no upstart American was going to upset her apple cart.
Lauren’s temper smoldered as Pamela spoke. The streamlined curriculum was the product of work done by Dr. Byrne and her colleagues at Boston University. It was a resounding success at BU, and led to a stronger interest in an English major among undergraduates. Lauren was eager to introduce her idea to the faculty at Dominion, but was met with a less than enthusiastic response by the hidebound senior leadership of the department, and now Pamela’s pronouncement of its premature death.
Dr. Byrne was at Dominion University as part of a longstanding faculty exchange program with Boston University. Professors from various departments could spend up to two years at their sister school. Lauren Byrne was of Irish descent, but had never visited Ireland. She thought this change in scenery would be the perfect way to learn more about her heritage. It also afforded her the opportunity to escape the aftermath of a messy divorce, though it killed her to be separated from her two school age children, who were staying with their father while Lauren was in Ireland.
“Now if we can proceed to the other items on the agenda …” Dr. Wentworth continued.
“Excuse me Dr. Wentworth,” Lauren interrupted.
“Yes, Dr. Byrne … did you have something to add?”
“Yes … I’d like to add that I can’t believe how closed minded you are to my idea. I know I’m only here for a little more than a year but I’m willing to put in the time to help you with the investigative process.”
Dr. Wentworth, being closed minded, stopped listening when she heard the term “closed minded.”
“Dr. Byrne. I’m sure you have the best of intentions, but rudeness won’t be tolerated in my meetings …”
Lauren got up out of her chair and left the meeting in a huff, slamming the door behind her. She may not have grown up in Ireland, but she certainly inherited the Irish temper.
* * * * *
Chapter Three
The Old Guard
Marnie re-entry into academia went through the head of the English department, which was of course headed by the venerable Dr. Wentworth. The English department offices were located in the oldest building on campus, an ivy covered two story stone building built in the 15th century, located next to the old library.
The university was only a short ten minute drive for Marnie. She felt invigorated as she entered the ancient building, brushing past a throng of students streaming out after class changeover, and climbed the worn marble steps to the second floor. Marnie caught the professor as she was departing her last class of the day. Marnie recognized her from the department’s photo gallery, white hair up in a bun, probably late 60’s, tall, significantly overweight, with very large breasts. Her frilly white blouse was buttoned all the way to the neck. She looked and dressed like a school marm but carried herself like a field general.
Marnie introduced herself, and Dr. Wentworth suggested that they have their conversation in her office, which was just down the hall. They traded small talk during the short walk, friendly on the surface, but Marnie’s sixth sense told her that Dr. Wentworth’s true personality was hidden behind a thin veneer of civility. They entered into a small anteroom just off the hallway where a receptionist guarded the offices of the most senior members of the English faculty. Dr. Wentworth gave a friendly wave to the receptionist, a young woman with dark hair, dressed as frumpily as her boss, before passing her to access the suite of offices.
Dr. Wentworth had, of course, the choice corner office, with views of a private rose garden (for faculty use only) through the back windows and an expanse of lush, green grass through the bank of four side windows. The professor shut the door behind Marnie and locked it. She assumed her place behind an expansive, and immaculately clean, antique oak desk, and pointed for Marnie to assume her spot in one of the padded leather guest chairs.
“I’m so sorry to hear about your parents,” she started. Dr. Wentworth had approved the deferral of Marnie’s admission after the death of her mother and father, so she was keenly aware of the tragedy.
Marnie relaxed slightly. “I appreciate your concern Dr. Wentworth. I’ve taken more than a year off, and I think it’s time to get back to my studies.”
“I commend your courage Marnie. Now how can I help you?”
“I need a faculty advisor for my doctorate program. I was hoping you had some recommendations.”
“Of course. As you know, my recommendations aren’t exclusive — you’re welcome to pick anyone on our faculty — but with my approval of course.”
The professor accessed the file drawer behind her desk and pulled out a copy of the faculty list. She circled three names on the list and handed it to Marnie. Marnie scanned the list, being familiar with the three names from her undergraduate studies. Then she noticed a name she wasn’t familiar with — one that wasn’t circled.
“What about this professor … Dr. Lauren Byrne? I don’t remember seeing her on the faculty list before.”
“Oh yes … Lauren Byrne,” Pamela said dismissively. “She’s here on a faculty exchange program from Boston University. She’s been here less than a year, so she arrived after you graduated.”
“Should I talk to her as well?” asked Marnie, her ears perking up at hearing Dr. Byrne was from the United States.
“I can’t recommend her … she’s been here such a short period of time … and she’ll be leaving before you finish your program.”
“I’d still like to talk to her, if that’s OK.”
“Suit yourself,” the professor answered, with an obvious lack of enthusiasm in her voice. “I wouldn’t,” she added, almost under her breath.
“Why?” Marnie asked. She was bewildered at the department chairman’s negative reaction to a fellow faculty member.
“Let’s just say that we had words. Cross words. I don’t care to repeat them here,” she said in a huff. Then she blurted out, “and … and she’s a lesbian. Don’t let the picture of her two boys fool you …”
The older woman stopped herself, realizing that she was ranting, and also making a gratuitous personal attack that was unbecoming of a distinguished member of the faculty. Marnie could see that she was trying to compose herself.
“I’m sorry to go on dear. I don’t have anything personally against the woman mind you …” she added, trying to gracefully backpedal from her homophobic remark.
Marnie waited for the “but.”
“But she can’t throw her weight around at this college …” Her voice trailed off again when she was about to say something she couldn’t take back. Pamela hated to lose her composure and she sensed she was about to.
“I’ll send a note to the three professors I’ve recommended … and Dr. Byrne if you like.”
“Please,” said Marnie. She picked up the list, wondering exactly what transpired between Pamela Wentworth and Lauren Byrne. Now she really wanted to meet the mysterious, and controversial Dr. Lauren Byrne. She packed the list in her backpack and was about to leave when Dr. Wentworth spoke again.
“Marnie, you seem like a nice girl. I hope this doesn’t influence your decision,” she said disingenuously, “but there’s something you should know.”
“OK.”
“Mind you. I don’t have anything against Dr. Byrne. She bright and I have no doubt of the quality of her academic credentials, but … umm … as I’ve mentioned to you before, I’ve heard talk that she’s … she’s a lesbian.” She spit it out as if it was something distasteful in her mouth. “And divorced with two children. I think it’s deplorable, if you ask me.”