“What is it, Jake?”
“It’s Santa.”
Seamus tilted his head. “What about him?”
Jake walked up to him, holding a wide, rectangular box as if it contained dynamite. “It looks like he got you something.”
Ken leaned forward. “Mrs. Finn? I think it’s time for you and the kids to find the special present I got for them in the garage.”
Seamus felt his jaw drop when his mother smiled sweetly and stood without argument, guiding his children away like the pied piper of grandmothers. Jake hesitated.
“Go on, son.” Seamus smiled encouragingly. “I’ll show you later.”
What was going on here? He looked around the room at all the overly innocent faces. Jen was sitting on the floor with Trick and Declan, all of them spoiling Badass with attention as they gathered up the wrapping paper. Owen, Jeremy, Stephen and Tasha were on the couch opposite, watching him with undisguised interest.
Brady and Wyatt were standing behind Shawn, and Ken’s foot was tapping restlessly beside him as he held the box. “Anyone want to fill me in here?”
“Open it,” Owen said quickly, frowning when Jeremy tugged him back against his chest. “I didn’t say anything.”
Oh well. Seamus supposed he couldn’t hope for a carboy with the shape of this box, but then, none of them knew anything about making beer so he shouldn’t be surprised.
He unwrapped it slowly, wondering what they thought warranted this kind of attention. And who exactly was his mystery Santa? He lifted the box’s lid and looked inside cautiously, sifting through the contents.
Brochures for tourist attractions and breweries. A bright green travel guide. A credit card and a round-trip airline ticket in his name. “Ireland? Who the hell got me a ticket to Ireland?”
“We got tickets too,” Owen said, obviously unable to resist sharing the news. “I love our broken down cabin and I had big plans for it, but a honeymoon in Ireland sounds too good to pass up.”
Seamus felt a headache coming on. “Let’s see if I’ve got this straight. For Christmas, Santa is sending me to Ireland as the third wheel on my brother’s honeymoon? Does Santa expect me to keep them in line? Is this a gift or payback for something they think I’ve done?”
Brady scowled. “It’s an all-expenses paid vacation to another country, Seamus. Not a travel mug. Don’t be a dick.”
“You’re right,” he agreed readily, still floored. “But I obviously can’t use it. This is nearly three weeks of being away from home and,” He squinted at the dates. “Almost three months in the future?”
“That’s when your friend in Galway has a clear enough schedule to show you the sights and take you through the brewing process.”
Seamus stilled, turning his head to study Ken suspiciously. “My friend in Galway?” Was the infamous hacker monitoring his emails?
“You mentioned it to me,” Jen intervened swiftly, sensing his suspicions. “That you’ve been swapping emails with a brewer in Ireland? It was easy to get the email, Seamus. It’s right on their website.”
His interest in travel had suddenly increased over the last sixty seconds. God, it would be amazing to go. How better to learn the best way to incorporate brewing into the pub than learning from the masters? He shook his head. Impossible. There was no way it was going to happen. “Three months from now the kids are in school and I’m swamped at the pub or in parent-teacher meetings. Three months from now the weather might be good enough for me to patch that leak on my porch roof. Three months from n—”
“Three months from now you’re going to Ireland, Seamus Finn. That’s final.” His father was watching him with his arms crossed, a mulish expression on his face.
“No, Dad. I’m not.” He could be stubborn too.
How dare someone try to send him on a vacation to talk about beer in Ireland? It’s not like it was his dream come true or anything.
“Your mother and I will take care of the children. Jen and the others will help out wherever they can. Brady and Ken have already agreed to look after the pub while you’re away. Under my supervision, naturally.”
Seamus glanced at Brady. “You’re willing to put in that kind of time?”
“We’re insisting,” Ken corrected beside him.
He lifted his hands helplessly. “But Owen and Jeremy are—”
Shawn put his hands on his knees and leaned forward. It was his father’s body language for meaning business. “They’ll be touring castles and enjoying themselves. You’ll be on your own for everything but the flight there and back. But while you’re there…”
Here we go.
“We have a cousin or two in Galway I’d like you to look up for me. It might be nice to get to know those Finns before I die.”
There it was. When Shawn Finn asked you to do something for him “before he died”, there was simply no way to refuse him. He never had to scream or shout. Never had to threaten. Because he rarely asked for anything, he got whatever he wanted.