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in front of the terminal. Julianne pushed open her door, jumped out and reached in back for her bag. “Thanks for the ride. I hope you get back to work full-time without a hitch.”
    “Appreciate that. Have a good trip. Call me if you need anything.”
    “Right. I will. Thanks again.”
    She shut the door and carried her suitcase and tote bag into the airport, past travelers with sleek wheeled black bags. She really did need her own suitcase. Granny said she liked the idea of her suitcase going to Ireland even if she couldn’t.
    As far as Julianne knew, Andy hadn’t taken up with another woman since their falling out. That was a long time for him. But, clearly, he was back on his feet after the attack on him. He had to be restless.
    She felt herself tense. There was no question in her mind that Andy would have another woman on his arm before she was back in Rock Point in two weeks.
    She saw the emerald-green of the Aer Lingus sign and forced a smile.
    Never mind two weeks. She wouldn’t be surprised if he had another woman before she landed in Shannon, Ireland.
    * * *
    Julianne figured she slept all of seven minutes on the plane, not because it was a bad flight or she was afraid of flying or nervous about Ireland, but because she was so excited. She refused to think about Andy—at least she more or less refused—and focused on the thrill of her first transatlantic flight.
    She loved the green of Ireland, even in November, as the big plane landed in Shannon. She’d already changed her watch to Irish time, five hours ahead of Boston. Mentally, she told herself it was 6:00 a.m. and not 1:00 a.m.
    Getting through customs was a breeze. She picked up her suitcase at baggage claim and carried it out to the main lobby, where Lindsey had indicated she’d be waiting.
    No Lindsey.
    Julianne checked the ladies’ room, the coffee shop and the books-and-sundries shop, but didn’t find her new friend. Shannon Airport wasn’t Logan. There weren’t many places Lindsey could be.
    Maybe she couldn’t find a parking space or was running late.
    Her tote bag hoisted on one shoulder and her suitcase on the other, Julianne went through the sliding glass doors, welcoming the rush of the chilly early Irish morning. She set her suitcase on the sidewalk, plopped her tote bag on top of it and stretched her arms up over her head, her muscles stiff after six hours on a plane. She wasn’t hungry, but she wanted coffee, badly.
    The airport parking lot didn’t look crowded. Lindsey couldn’t have had trouble finding a parking space. Other travelers left the terminal, passing Julianne as they headed for the car rental lot or were picked up by family and friends. Airport workers went about their business.
    Julianne dug out her phone. No new emails, texts or voice mails from Lindsey. What if Lindsey had gotten mixed up and was meeting her at the Dublin airport?
    “What to do, what to do,” Julianne muttered, then decided to send a short text message.
    After a few minutes without a response, she dialed Lindsey’s number and got her voice mail but disconnected without leaving a message. Somehow they had gotten their wires crossed.
    Fuzzy-headed after the long flight, Julianne carried her suitcase and tote bag back into the terminal and bought herself a latte and scone at a small, uncrowded coffee shop. Most of the people from her flight had departed. The lobby was dead. She checked her email messages on her phone and found the one from Lindsey confirming the pickup: I’ll meet you in the lobby. We’ll stop for a full Irish breakfast and be in Declan’s Cross for lunch. Can’t wait to see you! xo Lindsey
    Straightforward enough. Julianne double-checked to make sure she had given Lindsey the correct date, and she had.
    She slathered her scone with butter and jam. The only thing to do at this point was to get herself to Declan’s Cross.
    She finished her coffee and scone and made her way to the rental car counter. A car was available. Irish