“Don’t,” she says.

“Why not?”

“I’ll show you later. It’s about closing time anyway, so I’m going to count the cash drawer, which should be easy since Cillian was our only customer today.”

“Is it always this slow?” I ask.

“Sometimes, but it doesn’t matter much. Fia’s as rich as God and this is a fun little hobby for her. Plus we do lots of events in the back and we sell a lot around the holidays and weekends.”

“Who works when we’re not here?”

“A couple of college kids. Whoever needs a part-time job. There’s always someone looking to pick up a shift. All those starving art students.”

“Wait, did you say closing time?” I look at the clock on the wall. “I feel like we just got here.”

“That’s right. Why do you think I’ve worked here so long? Hours are longer on the weekends, but then everybody comes to the tastings and things and it’s sort of a fun atmosphere, so it’s all right. Sometimes Danny, my brother, comes and plays the guitar.”

I can hardly see how I would ever complain about this job. Given where I come from and how busy and stressful my life has been lately, this has felt positively meditative. But I’m probably looking at it through Holiday Goggles. Seeing everything as if it’s some sort of utopia, when in fact, it’s simply a welcome break from the norm.

“Ah well. All right, the Brilliance finale is on soon and I have sweatpants to get into and snacks to put in bowls, so let’s move it. I placed an order next door for some shepherd’s pies, we can take them home and toss ’em in the oven to keep them warm. But more importantly, it’s time to find out if you’re really having a psychotic break, or if you truly are from another planet.”

“Not another planet. Same planet.”

“Time travel then.”

“Same time.”

“Another— Feck it, let’s go.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

It starts raining on our walk back to the cottage, so we run-walk the last half mile, Kiera holding our bag of food gingerly, and then burst inside and turn on the space heater immediately. It may be June, but it is Ireland. A shady little house on an overcast day still gets cold.

Maureen reacts with enthusiastic tail wags and licks when we arrive, reminding me that I’m supposed to get the dog back to Cillian. But then she nuzzles my neck and gives us a sweet whine and I decide that one more night of kidnapping her can’t hurt. I let her out, and she does her little routine before coming back in. I feel bad for leaving her home all day, and resolve to walk her in the morning.