The Lost

She watched him turn and walk down the sidewalk to his car. She closed the door and carried the documents to the table, where she sipped her now tepid tea and began to read.

When she finished, she stared into space, trying to make sense of it.

There were detailed reports about a family named Fitzgibbon, who had emigrated from Ireland fifty-five years ago, the same year her mother had been born. There was a map of the town of Glinkilly, in Ireland, where Hugh and Caitlin Fitzgibbon had been born, the date of their marriage and the birth date of their only daughter, Moira, as well as the name of the ship that brought them to the United States and the port where they’d disembarked. It would seem that their lives had been carefully documented, but as far as she could see, none of this could be used to link these strangers to her, or, in turn, to link her to this stranger, Cullen Glin.

Aidan thought about her mother’s mother, Maureen Gibbons, a sweet, quiet, rather sad woman who had been married to stern Edward Martin for more than forty years before her death. She rarely spoke about herself, preferring to talk about her beautiful daughter, Claire, on whom she doted.

Aidan’s mother, Claire, was the only child of Maureen and Edward. There were no others. Not even a stillbirth had been recorded in their family Bible. Cullen Glin had no claim on her. As tempting as it was to consider an all-expense-paid trip to Ireland and a fat check for her inconvenience, her conscience wouldn’t permit it. She had no right to lead some desperate old man on in his quest to find his lost child. His time would be better spent locating his true heirs.

She would phone Mr. Barlow in the morning, right after she phoned the bank to retrieve her job.

That morning call, however, changed everything.

“Well, Aidan.” Walter Saunders, her former supervisor, used his best customer-relations voice over the phone. “Good to hear from you. I’m sorry about your mother. Everyone here at First City sends their sympathy.”

“Thank you, Mr. Saunders.” Aidan had seen and heard her supervisor in action, using that oh-so-warm voice while staring into the distance with absolutely no emotion at all.

She took a breath. “Now that I’m free to work, I was hoping I might be able to come back.”

There was a momentary pause. “You were a fine employee, Aidan. The best.”

She waited. When he offered nothing more, she jumped in to fill the silence. “If it’s a problem, I’d be willing to start at a reduced salary. I realize that I wouldn’t be qualified for the pay scale I’d reached before leaving. Or the benefits.” Now she was babbling, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “I’m not asking for full benefits, just enough to help with any medical situations that might arise. As you can imagine, I’m feeling overwhelmed by medical crises at the moment.”

Silence.

She closed her eyes, hoping he couldn’t hear the desperation that crept into her tone. She hated that she was begging. “I need this job, Mr. Saunders.”

“Yes. Well.” His tone sharpened. “I’m afraid we have no openings just now, Aidan. You realize we had to fill your position as quickly as possible. You left us with no other choice.”

“I gave you two weeks’ notice. I thought that would be enough to train my replacement.”

“And you did train her. Very well, I might add. She’s become a valuable employee.” He cleared his throat. “I have your perso

“You have nothing now?”

“Nothing. As you well know, these are hard times in the banking industry.”

Numb, Aidan heard the phone disco

Then, because she’d pi

She hadn’t realized how desperately she’d needed that job. Now that it was being denied her, she couldn’t seem to think beyond it. What would she do? What could she do?

Without a quick infusion of cash, she would lose her family home and would find herself out on the street.

Seeing the papers left by the lawyer, she picked up his card and, without giving a thought to the consequences, dialed the number. When she heard his voice, she spoke quickly, so she wouldn’t lose her nerve.

“Mr. Barlow? Aidan O’Mara. When can you book that flight to Ireland?”

“Had a bit of a nap, did you?” The young lad’s voice had her looking up to see him watching her in the rearview mirror. “We’re passing through Glinkilly.” A note of pride crept into his tone. “Our wee town was built near the site of an ancient abbey, which dates to the twelfth century.”

“Such a pretty town.” And it was, with its tidy houses and clean streets. The shop windows were bright with goods, and the people walking about looked friendly and prosperous.

“You’ll soon have your first glimpse of Glin Lodge.”

They left the town behind and started along a lovely country road, wide enough for only one vehicle at a time. On either side of the car were hedgerows of deep pink flowers so thick Aidan couldn’t see beyond them.

The hedgerows gave way to a meandering stone wall with an occasional door painted bright red or sky blue or su

The car was climbing, climbing, as though scaling a mountain. When they reached the top of a hill and turned onto a wide, curving ribbon of road, she saw acres of perfectly sculpted grounds. Ancient flowering trees with branches that swept the grass before lifting high in the air. Fountains set among lovely rose gardens, with stone benches set about to enjoy the view. Sheep dotted a distant hillside, adding to the pastoral setting.

They rounded a curve and Aidan’s jaw dropped at the sight of the stone mansion glinting in the late-afternoon sunlight.

“There’s Glin Lodge, miss.”

“This is where Mr. Glin lives?”

“Aye. Indeed.” He shot her a glance in the mirror and smiled at the look on her face.

The word lodge had planted an image in her mind far removed from this. She’d been expecting a rustic house, with a few barns and outbuildings. It had never occurred to Aidan that Cullen Glin lived in such luxury. The lodge was actually a mansion. The kind of place she’d seen only in books.

They drove past a reflecting pond where a pair of black swans circled, leaving barely a ripple in their wake.

As they pulled into the circular drive and came to a halt at the foot of high stone steps, a pair of massive Irish wolfhounds came bounding up, setting off a chorus of barking.

The lad circled the car and opened the passenger door. When Aidan hesitated, he gave her a wide smile. “They’re big and noisy, but they won’t bite.”

He helped her from the car. Before he could admonish the dogs, a man on horseback came up behind them.

As he dismounted, the man’s deep voice called, “Meath. Mayo.”

The two dogs sat, tails swishing, tongues lolling. Aidan would have sworn they were gri

She turned for a better look at the man.

He wore a charcoal jacket and denims tucked into tall leather boots. His dark hair was wind-tossed, his eyes deep blue and piercing as they boldly studied her. Though not handsome in the classic sense, his rugged good looks and casual elegance gave him a commanding presence. He looked like the hero in every classic novel she’d ever read. The sight of him took her breath away.

He spoke first to the driver. “Sean, you can take the lady’s luggage inside. Mrs. Murphy will tell you where to put it.”

As the lad hurried away, the stranger turned to Aidan. “You’d be Miss O’Mara.”

“Aidan O’Mara. And you are?”