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The Poshes?” I ate my peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich, scraping off some of the strawberry jam, ripping away the crusts.
    “Posh,” Orla said. “Like fancy. Think they’re better than the rest of us, sure they do.”
    “We used to be friends,” Erin said. “That was before they got so uppity and . . . daring. We don’t mind a bit of fun, but we’re not party girls.”
    “Yeah.” Orla opened her brown paper bag and peeked inside. “We know fun. Like two weekends ago we stayed up all night watching a documentary marathon on the brain.” She rolled her eyes toward Erin. “We’re positively wild.”
    “You forgot to tell me Beckett Rush was staying at your house.” I was quite proud of how casual my voice sounded. As if it were every day I was sleeping under the same roof as a teenage phenomenon.
    Erin craned her neck and looked all around before speaking in a hush. “Mam has made me promise not to so much as open my mouth one peep about him. Something about a contract she had to sign when he checked in. The whole town knows, but our family still can’t say a word. It’s been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. You can’t talk about him either. We don’t know who could be press in disguise. One word to them, and we lose the B and B, our possessions, and our life savings.”
    “Wow.”
    “I know. Isn’t it awesome?” Erin gave an airy sigh. “Beckett’s lovely, don’t you think?”
    “I guess.” I took a drink of water. “If you’re into his type.”
    She smiled. “The tall, blond, and ruggedly good-looking type?”
    “I’d be careful with him, Erin.”
    “Oh, I know. My mam’s already warned me. But he’s been at our house for three weeks and been nothing but a gentleman.
    Hasn’t made one single overture toward me.” She sighed. “It’s been a total disappointment.”
    “Bea’s one of the locals the Fangs in the Night crew hired, don’t you know,” Orla said.
    Erin nodded. “She has a small speaking part.”
    Orla took out a package of cookies. “But you’d think she was Scarlett Johansson.”
    “It is something to be proud of,” Erin said.
    Orla snorted. “And proud that one is. Her cousin got her the gig. Bea has all sorts of connections, and believe me, she uses them. She’ll run over anyone to get what she wants. Best keep your eye on her. I’ve seen the way she looks at you, Finley. Like you’re new competition.”
    I lined my bread crusts up neatly in a row on the table. “That’s ridiculous. I don’t want anything she has.”
    Erin looked toward St. Raphael’s. “Just make sure you keep it that way.”

    That night I woke up. Sweat glued my shirt to my skin, my heart pounded loud enough to wake the whole village, and tears coursed down my cheeks. Another dream where I saw Will. Yet I couldn’t get to him. And he couldn’t get to me.
    One thirty a.m.
    I rolled over and sighed, realizing that I was starving. Dinner had been some sausage concoction, and I couldn’t swallow more than a few bites. Sometimes meat just grossed me out. Maybe this was God telling me to be a vegetarian.
    Deciding to take my mind off of my growling stomach, I flicked on the bedside lamp and opened my brother’s travel journal. I’d read this thing from cover to cover. Yet I still felt so drawn to it, as if it had something more it wanted to say.
    I had to find a way to get out into the countryside and really see Ireland. The O’Callaghans were so busy, there was no telling when there would be a chance to get away. Patience had never been my strongest suit.
    Or rolling my r ’s.
    God, I know we haven’t talked in a long time, and you seem to be playing the quiet game, but if you could open some doors for me to get a car. I want to see the land my brother fell in love with. Talk to the people he never forgot. View the world as he saw it. He believed this was the most beautiful place ever. And I could definitely stand some beauty .
    My tummy rumbled again, and I knew I had to