“This place is packed with useless shit. The walls haven’t been painted since he opened thirty years ago. We could make a good chunk off it, just by cleaning and painting it. You know, turn it into something from this decade.”
I shoot him a look that says “don’t ask me to do this” because I just want to leave and put this all behind me while I’m still numb.
He folds his arms over his chest. “You owe me, and you know that you owe me.”
Dammit. I do owe Ian. He gave me a job and a couch to sleep on for four months last year, when I booked a one-way ticket to Dublin. I needed a change, and I gave him two weeks’ notice to accommodate my needs. He rolled with it.
“And you are the executor, after all.”
I take a deep breath, taking in Black Rabbit’s interior. Really taking it in. This was Ned’s passion, his life. But the place itself is a dump. Anyone walking in off the street is going to lowball us, and that would be almost as offensive to Ned as selling it in the first place. “Maybe someone would pay for the name, too. You know, keep it alive. That wouldn’t be so bad.”
“It shouldn’t take too long.” Ian rights the trash can. “A week to empty it out, tops.”
I snort. Thirty years of Ned’s memories are in here. Thirty years that I can’t just toss in the trash.
Ian ignores me. “Another week for the painters. It could be ready to go on the market in a few weeks. Staying for a few weeks isn’t that bad. Especially when you have nowhere that you need to be.”
I don’t say anything, prompting him to continue.
“And you know, maybe we could look at fixing up the house a bit. Paint it, too. I was looking at real estate in the area, and we could get another fifty off that place with some paint and a good clean. Or we could keep it as an investment property and rent it out. A lot of people in that neighborhood rent to students from the college.”
“And you’re going to manage all that from Dublin?”
He clamps his mouth shut.
“I like how I’ve gone from staying in San Francisco for a few extra weeks to taking care of a house for months and beyond, in a matter of seconds.” This is not an organic conversation. Ian has been trying to convince me to plant some roots and act more responsible. He clearly had this conversation planned. Everything he’s suggesting means having legal ties and responsibilities to San Francisco. Funny thing is, a week ago I was entertaining the thought of putting down roots.
Now none of that sounds at all appealing to me.
“We have to sell that house fast or it’ll go into foreclosure. Unless you can afford that mortgage and taxes, and all the utilities. I know I can’t.” It would eat my savings up in two months.
“Yeah. You’re right. I’m sorry.” He heaves a sigh. “I’m a complete jerk for leaving you with all this.”
“I’ll manage,” I mutter, though I don’t know how.
“Look, if you don’t want to stay in San Francisco after it’s all said and done, you can come back to Dublin. I miss having you there.”
“Even though I stole all your good clients because I’m that much better than you are?” I’ve always been good at using sarcasm and humor to steer conversations away from serious topics.
He chuckles, and the sound squeezes my heart because his laugh sounds like Ned’s laugh. “Something like that. Seriously, come.”
“Okay. I’ll think about it.” Though I’m not sure I want the drama of my last trip to Ireland. I’m definitely going somewhere. If it’s not Dublin, it’ll be somewhere else.
It’s obvious that it was Ned who made San Francisco feel like home, because now that he’s gone, I just want to get the hell away.
FOUR
SEBASTIAN
I spot my driver immediately—a stocky man with cropped gray hair, wearing a boxy black suit and holding a sign that reads CAL ENTERPRISES. An innocuous business name that’ll vanish from anyone’s memory two seconds after seeing it.
“Gregory White?”
I nod once. That’s the name on the passport I’m traveling with today. Almost as innocuous as CAL Enterprises. As are my blue jeans, white T-shirt, and unmarked baseball cap.