You'll Always Have Tara

With everyone’s help—Aidan, Catriona, Mrs. McGregor, even Sin—I am able to deliver four hundred cups of Feckin’ Fiddle (Catriona was right about the name) to Michael and bake enough Boozy Bites to keep a festival full of music lovers happily buzzed.

Catriona was right. There is definitely a market for alcohol-infused baked goods in Ireland. After the music festival, the word spread from Donegal to Dublin, Cork to Coleraine. Cat’s friend Mary designed an eye-catching logo, which we are using on our various social media platforms and all printed material. Mary also designed a simple website with information about our baked goods, professional photographs, and a contact form.

It’s only been three weeks and already we have had dozens of requests for samples from pubs, cafes, and hotel restaurants. We are keeping it simple though, supplying Feckin’ Fiddle and Bánánach Bites to Michael’s pubs and a few cafes around Donegal until we have the money to expand the business. Sin has even offered to help with the loan paperwork. Life is pretty sweet—if you’ll pardon the obvious pun.

It’s like a big old box of sunny yellow Lemonheads. You know the hard candy that tastes sweet, but then suddenly turns sour?

Life is like a box Lemonheads.

Sweet, sour. Sweet, sour.

Today, my life is as sweet as a Lemonhead.

Tomorrow, I reckon my life might turn sour.

Tomorrow, I must choose between Aidan and Sin. Aunt Patricia’s solicitor is traveling all the way from London with paperwork for me to sign naming a co-owner of Tásúildun.

I am not gonna lie, y’all. I am torn.

Choosing Aidan as the castle’s co-owner means cheating Sin out of his family’s ancestral home. It also means losing an invaluable ally who could help me preserve our aunt’s legacy for future generations to appreciate.

On the other hand, choosing Sin might mean losing Aidan. My fierce Irish fighter might take my decision as a mortal blow to his pride.

It’s late when I finally climb into bed, mentally and physically exhausted from wrestling with my tough decision, and I still don’t have an answer. So, I do what any good Southern girl does when she is struggling to find an answer to a worrisome situation: I give it to Jesus.