O'Connell Bridge - Pt. 27

According to the new schedule he was to have morning tea with Clarice but no other meetings until cocktails and dinner. Seamus once again met LC for breakfast.

“What’s important on the schedule?” LC quizzed his new friend. “Is the world ending?”

Seamus sipped his coffee and looked around. “Tea is canceled. Clarice is tied up in some assignment. “He laughed. “That doesn’t include an American student. He paused. “Simmons told me to ask you. How aware are you of public affairs and the news.”

LC was curious, but he said, “I watch CNN or the BBC when I am getting ready in the morning. Other than that I am not addicted to the news.”

“Okay, here’s what I want you to do in order to become a bit more worldly.” He placed on the table the Wall Street Journal International Edition; the Irish Times; London Daily News, and a World Report; all the newspapers were arranged around the table. “I will make sure these are all in your room every morning. Please read or scan all of the papers, be ready to converse intelligently about local events without expressing an opinion. Politicians have opinions, you only have information.”

“Clarice didn’t tell me to do that.”

Seamus pointed at LC. “My friend, you’re an adult male. Remember this, Clarice is the etiquette Nazi. She has mastered high level personal performance. She’s a barracuda. Be aware, I don’t personally know her but I understand she is more devious than you think. She works for Mrs. O’Neil as a special assistant in the procurement division; she is talented in getting what she wants, and disposing the same. But, she has the female prospectus. Most gentlemen are at least familiar with the news of the day.”

LC smirked. “Me thinks Seamus does not care for young Clarice.”

Seamus smile faded. “I don’t want you taken advantage of.”

“You’re really concerned?”

“I’ve worked for Mr. Simmons for over two years now; I choose his clothes and retrieve things he needs. For your stay, I labeled 10 sets of clothes from him to wear. I think of myself as rather perceptive.”

“Wow.”

“Oh, he can choose his own clothes, but to take the time to do so would be minutes lost in his service to Mrs. O’Neil. Clarice is the same way; everything is calculated, profit judged and measured. Have you asked Clarice what she plans to do with a career? Being a secretary or assistant to Mrs. O’Neil is fine, but the woman is 80 years old; the career does have its limitations, and I assure you Clarice is not a part of the will.”

“Oh, I thought you didn’t know her.”

Seamus wiped his lip. “She works on the corporate side, I work in domestic service.”

“What do you expect to do—post Mrs. O’Neil?”

“If Mr. Simmons keeps me on, I’ll remain; otherwise the need for experienced and talented butlers is great. I’m not worried.”

“And Clarice?”

“As is true in most corporations, once a leadership is changed then the directors, like Clarice, have to fight to keep their jobs or at least justify their existence depending on who assumes the reins. Remember much of Mrs. O’Neil’s private holdings are just that—investments, both market and real estate. She’s not so much in the day to day operations of the corporation or the business community.”

“So, who succeeds Mrs. O’Neil?”

Seamus laughed. “Rumor is,” he paused. “Note I said rumor. We touched on this. She has an adolescent great niece somewhere that will inherit everything. She has been putting the child’s name and her guardian on a ton of trust papers and businesses, so it will not be an inheritance. She has arranged for the child’s private schooling, and will personally tutor her here when the child gets older. If what I hear is true, the child is already co-owner of much of O’Neil Milling investments, particularly real estate.”

“Where’s the child now?”

“I don’t know for sure, but like I said last night, the rumor has the niece living in Budapest; some say London. Oh, and I am told that the child may be an orphan.”

“So, an orphan in Hungary is going to become instantly wealthy?”

Seamus leaned back and sipped his coffee. “Could be.”

“Have you met this child?”

“No, though I understand she and her guardian visit the London home quite often. Unless Mr. Simmons sent me there, I would not have the occasion.”

“How old is this heiress now?”

“I came to Mr. Simmons two years ago. Mr. Simmons sent me out to find a specific birthday toy; as I remember, it was one of those learning systems for adolescents. My guess is she is no more than 11 or 12.”

“Wow.”

“You have a lot of work to do today.”

“I suppose I won’t see Clarice until cocktails. What’s the plan?”

“Study the papers. We will have current event conversations over lunch and tomorrow breakfast. So, you will have to rise early enough to review the news and features.”

“I guess I have the rest of the day off, huh?”

“I’ll let you know if the schedule changes. You meet Clarice for drinks at 6:00 PM, followed by dinner. I will not be at the dinner location with you and Clarice, but I will be at the O’Neil reception; but not at the dinner, at least I have not yet been so instructed.”

LC stacked the papers. “I’m off to work. I’ll see you at lunch.”

“We’ll get out of the hotel at noon and go somewhere interesting. I need to spend a few minutes with Mr. Simmons on some things he wants me to do.”

LC took his load of papers to the elevator. “I gotta find Cait’s number.”

He sat on his bed and stared at his cell phone—the letter she sent was strewn on the bed. “Cait, why didn’t you give me your new number? Shish, I can’t even call Mac, it’s three in the morning in Wilmington.”

He read newspapers until noon and was relieved when Seamus called and said, “Let’s get some lunch. The Beanhive is a quick cab distance; great bakery and I can attest they do a good job with the regular menu, very relaxed. I am particular to their BLTs, but you can have what you want.” He chuckled. “Wear what you had on at breakfast today.”

“Cool, I’ll be right down.” LC brushed his hair and smoothed his clothes. “Damn, I’ve never done this prior to going out before, she’s rubbing off on me. Wonder if the restaurant Seamus is taking me to requires six sets of silverware?”

Seamus was waiting in the lobby when LC arrived. “Get much reading done?” Seamus asked while holding what looked like a USA Today.

“Actually most of it. The Dublin paper and the World news are kinda redundant for international information, of course except for local stories. I’m still wading through the Wall Street Journal though; I got hung up on a couple of features.”

Seamus grinned. “Good. Let’s go. I hope you have your walking shoes on, we have about a five minute walk after the cab drops us up town.”

“I’m good.”

“Talley ho.” He waved at a cab. Ten minutes later they arrived at a busy intersection. “Right here is fine,” Seamus told the cab driver.

As they walked LC asked. “To be clear. I’m having cocktails with Clarice at 6 PM and dinner afterward; do you know where?”

“Tonight,” said Seamus. “You’re in the hotel; but tomorrow night you’ll be going to the Delahunt Restaurant.”

“So, what happens Friday? I mean there’s no training scheduled for Friday. Is there?”

A twinkle came in Seamus’ eye. “We’re going to Scotland.”

“Why?”

“Mrs. O’Neil wanted you to visit Edinburgh.”

LC stopped walking. “Why would she do that?”

Seamus shook his head. “I haven’t a clue, it’s a big city, and O’Neil Corporation has a shipping office there and some real estate development. We’re actually meeting someone at the company office who is supposed to pick us up at the airport and drive us around. Don’t ask me why; it’s just my orders for Friday. I picked up the return tickets this morning, we’re flying corporate over there.”

“Okay, I guess. Very curious.”

After lunch they walked back to the hotel stopping at shops along the way. LC was fascinated by the color and culture of the Irish capital.

Seamus laughed. “Walking with you is like walking with my baby cousin. We have to stop at every bright sign and light.”

“Simply fascinated. We really haven’t done any touring.”

“July first you’ll be doing four days of traveling. You’ll probably get tired of castles and ruins, but we will return to the Ashling each night.”

“Do you have a schedule of where we’re going?”

Seamus shook his head negatively. “I’m only riding along, I guess. Someone else will drive us and be our guide.”

“Who?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea. It could be Clarice, but don’t quote me on that, cause I simply have not been told. I only know that you’re going on a four day accompanied tour. Now, before you jump to any conclusions, remember, tour guides of the Republic are like grass in the park, they are thick and numerous. As far as I know it could be a sober priest in a mini van or a green haired punk rocker looking for a few Euros - anybody may be the fare taker.”

“Okay, I see your point. I’m going on a tour, and somebody is going to guide me. Right?”

“Right on.” He high-fived LC. “Let’s move along. I’d say let’s have a beer on the way, but with Clarice’s abhorrence to Ireland’s pseudo-national drink, I guess we could stop for a soda on the way.”

“Good to me.”

“We can run by Murphy’s, a wonderful ice cream place, but we can get a soft drink and free re-fills.”

LC followed. “Cool. Wonder if they can make a float?”

“We’ll ask, do you know what it is?”

By early afternoon they were back to the hotel. “Do I have afternoon tea today?”

“Not on your schedule; just the cocktail hour and dinner. At least I have no notices contrary.”

“Oh, as to Sunday. I’d really like to go to church here so I can tell my home pastor about it.”

Seamus looked at his phone. “Your tour starts Sunday, but not until noon. I suppose you could. Where would you go?”

“A Methodist Church, if possible.”

“There’s a chapel about 20 minutes from here. Methodist Centenary Church. I will check on their service times and perhaps we can make arrangements.”

“Thank you.” LC headed down the hallway to the elevator and waved to Seamus who was walking away.

“Study your papers.” Seamus said loudly.

LC walked into his room and collapsed on the bed. “I’ve asked myself a dozen times, what have I gotten into?”

He looked at his watch and picked up his cell phone and dialed Mac.

After two rings Mac answered. “My guess is it is LC calling. I don’t get many international calls.”

“You guessed, right.”

“Hey, found your cell phone on the back of the toilet, you mean to do that?”

“No, I got a burn phone from the gift shop. But, that’s why I’m calling. Have I gotten any calls?”

“Just a sec, it’s on the bar, and I’m on the couch.”

A few seconds later Mac returned.

“I need your code.”

LC repeated his code numbers. “277463.”

“Works. Okay, yeah, two from unknown number. One from a local number I don’t recognize, oh, let me look at missed calls. Yeah, it’s from Ace Travel. That’s all. So, how’s Ireland?”

“Ireland is exhausting, but I wish there was a way to know who the unknown calls are from.”

Mac coughed. “You know it’s probably some sales company, they get a number and just call and call, robo calls and autodial.”

“Well, I got a letter from Cait before I left, but she didn’t leave a number to call and she lost her own phone.”

“You two are a perfect match. She loses her phone and you leave yours on the toilet.”

“I suppose.”

Mac said, “If she calls me, I’ll tell her that you’ve been trying to find a number for her; maybe she can call you at this number. It’s on my caller ID. I guess this means she speaking to you again.”

“Thanks. Yeah, the letter was pretty, well, yeah, she’s speaking again.”

“So, what have you done over there? You haven’t been kidnapped by an Arab Prince or anything have you? I understand you’d have to go to camel riding school. You haven’t been invited to a riding academy?”

“Nope, but I have been in gentleman’s school.”

“Gentleman’s what?”

“I’m being trained in the art of an English gentleman?”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Really.”

“Have you learned how to bow and scrape and hold your little finger up?”

“Not that kind of training here in Ireland.”

“No sightseeing?”

LC laughed. “Sightseeing? Well, my instructor is a 24-year-old English woman with long legs, a perfect figure, and a beautiful face.”

“You sound like me. Why is she your instructor?” Mac sounded excited. “You sure that’s not a hooker you found in a bar?”

“She’s the one teaching me to be a gentleman, and apparently she’s like some kind of etiquette expert. Plus she’s well, she’s kinda hot, if you know what I mean.”

“How do you concentrate on what she’s teaching?”

“Mac, it’s tough. She even taught me how to kiss.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“Nope.”

“How cool is that.” Mac sounded excited.

“Yeah, she’s steamy enough to make a man forget where he came from for sure."

To be continued...