Aisling's Summer Diary

Chapter 28 | Karma's Payment

I couldn’t believe Siobhan had literally risked everything on the Shark’s Tooth (and on US)!  And all this time I thought she didn’t trust me.  There had to be something that I could do now to show her that I believe in her!  But WHAT?!

5:30 p.m.

Ali and I trailed Siobhan down the stairs and into the lobby, dragging our feet every step of the way.  Mrs. Murray made a bee-line for the door—she wasn’t wasting any time in doling out Siobhan’s punishment.  But as she put her hand to the door knob, it swung open, and two then four then TEN guests piles in with their duffel bags and surfboards and beach floats!  What was going on?!  I turned to Siobhan, and she shrugged.  This time, she wasn’t the one behind our good luck.  

“Where did all these people come from?” Ali whispered in my ear.  “I have NO idea.” More and more holiday-revelers piled into the reception hall.  Mrs. Murray was pinned between the crowd and the front wall.  She tried again for the door, but was hedged off by a kid with a huge alligator float.  

Ciaran climbed up the stairs and surveyed the crowd.  There were easily twenty people—more than we’d been promised by the phantom Mr. Shoa.  We could win the bet AND save the Shark’s Tooth after all!  But Ciaran didn’t invite them in!!!  “Unfortunately,” he said, “the hotel is closed.  We can’t accommodate you.”  Why?!  We’d have to work over-time, for sure, but we could do it!  “Because our one-in-a-million manager has to go back to Dublin,” Ciaran sighed.  Mrs. Murray nodded for Siobhan to run along upstairs and grab her things, but Siobhan didn’t move.  

The crowd had closed in on us, drawn into the drama that was brewing between uncle Ciaran, Mrs. Murray, and Siobhan.  I took Siobhan’s hand and led her over to her mother.  “Please, Mrs. Murray.  Let her stay.  We’ve all worked so hard.”  A big lad in front of the crush hollered, “Yeah, Mrs. Murray!”  Siobhan stepped forward and reached out to her mom.  She just wanted a chance to set things right, and if she stayed Ciaran would be able to pay her back that much quicker.  Everyone in the room held their breath as Mrs. Murray looked back and forth between her brother and her daughter.  “I can’t say no with you looking at me like that!” she yipped. 

A thunderous cheer came up from the crowd, and Siobhan collapsed into her mother’s arms.  She did believe in her daughter’s vision after all, even if Siobhan had taken a major risk to bring it off.  Ali and I were just about to make our way to the reception desk to get things rolling when Ciaran piped up again.  “We don’t have enough staff to handle so many guests!” he said.  Mrs. Murray gave him a playful dig in the shoulder—she was staying on to help, no way she was leaving him alone with Siobhan again!  

In the very corner of the room, Murphy half-raised a hand.  “I can help.  It’s not like I’m in a rush to get back to Dublin.”  I wanted to run over to him and hug his neck!  “That’s great guys, really, but it’s still not enough,” Ciaran said.  If we had any chance of making this work, we’d need at least three more people.  We didn’t want was to disappoint so many first time guests with bad service!

Then the last thing I expected to happen did: in walked Celia, Slater, Fiona, and...Nico???  They wanted to help, especially Nico who’d been behind the poster rampage all along! 

Ciaran was gob-smacked.  “Are you behind all of this?” he asked Celia.  “Call it karma,” she said.  “And Facebook, and Twitter, and Bebo.”  She reached into her sari and pulled out a check.  “Put it toward your project,” she said.  Ciaran caught her up in a hug.  It looks like Celia and Ciaran are back saving the world together after all! 

Siobhan, Ali, and I got to work checking in a whopping thirty guests!  We were officially FULL!  Once things had quieted down a bit, Fiona, Ali, Slater, Siobhan, and I ran outside and tore down the scoreboard.  We’d all won—and the big prize was each other!  The four of us walked together down the beach, kicking up sand and messing, friends 4-ever. 

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