“I’m gettin’ grievances from ghosties?” said Conor.
“I’m afraid so,” she smirked. “Most of them are requesting that you repaint the library to the original color of red.”
“It made it too dark,” frowned Conor.
“Um, Michael said what do you care you don’t read anyway. He said that, not me.”
“Damn ghost,” he frowned. “Fine. We’ll paint it red again. What else?”
“Stop planting dahlia’s around the walkway. They smell terrible.” Sean laughed, shaking his head. “Also, tell Sean to stop wearing that cologne. They all hate it.”
“Hey! The women love it,” he frowned.
“Do they? Do they, really?” grinned Liffey. Sean flipped him the bird and the men laughed.
“And finally, it seems you have a wee ghost that’s very similar to one we have. Saoirse is about seventeen and she has a very active imagination. She would like you to shower with the door open.” Julia blushed and the men burst into laughter. Sean and Conor turned bright red, shaking their heads.
“I will not be exposin’ meself to a minor. And a family member at that,” said Conor.
“She’s technically not a minor, Conor. She died on this property in the 1700’s. She’s almost three-hundred years old.”
“What did she die from?” asked Sean.
“She developed pneumonia from the sound of her story. There just wasn’t much anyone could do for her back then. She was scheduled to marry one of your ancestors sons. Finnegan Laughlin.” Both men nodded their heads.
“We’ve heard that story but didn’t know how she died. He married quite a few years later but apparently always said the woman wasn’t his true love,” said Conor.
“They seemed very much in love. Apparently Finnegan died on English soil and can’t get back here.” She stared at the two men, father and son, her big eyes blinking in pity. “Unless…”
“Oh, no. No, lass. You can’t be wantin’ me to beg the English to give me a two-hundred-year-old corpse?”
“You wouldn’t have to beg,” she grinned. “He’s buried near St. Michaels near the border of Scotland. His grave is marked and you can prove he’s your ancestor. You simply want to bring him home.”
“And where was his wife buried? I don’t be needin’ feudin’ ghosty women in my castle.”
“She remarried and is buried with her second husband outside of Belfast. Please, Conor. It would make her so happy and I’d bet he’d be happy as well,” she pleaded.
Joseph laughed, shaking his head.
“You might as well give in, old friend. My wife is about as stubborn as Irene in these matters.”
“Fine,” he said standing and tossing his napkin down. “I’ll fly over there today.” Julia jumped from her seat and hugged the older man, kissing his cheek.
“Thank you! Thank you so much. Oh, and Saoirse says you should give Mrs. O’Brien a chance. She’s a good woman and has some very interesting fantasies about you.”
“Lord help me,” said Conor rolling his eyes. “I’m an old man. I’ll not be takin’ another wife at my age.” Sean smiled at his father, shrugging.
“I like Mrs. O’Brien. She’s always been good to me and she makes amazing sweets. She’s a good-looking woman, Da.”
“For the love of all that’s holy! I’m bringing ghostly lovers together and takin’ advice from my son and another ghost about my personal life.” He stormed out of the room and Julia blushed looking at Sean. A few seconds later, Conor returned. “Invite the woman to dinner.”
When he left, Sean sat quietly and then looked at Julia.
“Thank you for doing that. He hasn’t had a date that I’m aware of since me mam died. He’s got a lot of life left and she really is a good woman.”
“You’re very welcome. Alright,” she said taking the last bite of her scone. “I’m ready if all of you are.”
“What do you need from us?” asked Rory.
