Shanahans Growing Pains: Book Two in The Shanahans Series

By John A. Fitzenz

2010 is a year of surprises, to say the least. 

 

Mike Fitzpatrick, after moving from Boston, Massachusetts, to Waterford, Ireland, after the loss of his job, house, wife, and baby, finds new life and meaning in his position at his friend Padraig Shanahan's sports magazine and with his new fiancée, Maureen. After all he has

• Language: English
• Publisher: Palmetto Publishing
• Release date: Nov 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9798822904606

John A. Fitzenz

Dr. Jac Fitzenz has authored 16 books, both fiction and nonfiction, and hundreds of magazine articles. He has twice received the Society for Human Resource Management national book award. A former naval intelligence officer, Dr. Jac is the founder of the Saratoga Institute, an international human capital research and consulting company. Over the course of his career, he lectured to and trained over 90,000 people in 53 countries. Now retired, he is involved in veteran's programs, and when not writing, he spends his time on the golf course. He lives in San Jose with his wife, Laura. Please visit drjacfitzenz.com.

Book preview

Preface

L

ife is the ultimate soap opera. It is a fascinating tale of how a group of people who are related in some manner deal with each other and with outsiders. The group can be relatives, coworkers, teams, other groups.

So it is with our lives. We start in a family of some sort. As we grow, the outside world introduces new faces and, more importantly, new value systems and motivations. Sooner or later, we realize that every new person brings an opportunity to learn from them or the need to cope with them. This interaction is the opera of life.

In the following tale, the central group is the Shanahan family. The first book started with only five people in the group, plus the narrator, Michael Fitzpatrick, who was trying to find his place within the group. As the tale unfolded, new characters arrived, who often had opposing agendas. Some were helpful, while others generated problems for Mike and the Shanahan family.

The common pains and pleasures of life are the elements that make up our story, but in this case, the interaction is often at an intense level. My goal in telling the tale of the Shanahans is to provide a colorful palette of experiences with which readers like you will identify. If the tale is well told, you may find enjoyment in being part of their opera.

I hope you will share the Shanahans’ joys and sorrows and, in the end, want to stay with them in the third book in the series, Full House, as the group grows.

Update from First Book: Mike’s Last Chance

A big year for me, 2009. In twelve months, in twelve months my life was totally transformed.

In January I was desolate. I’d lost everything: my job, my house, my wife, and my baby boy, Bobby. There seemed to be no hope, nothing I could hold on to, to preserve my sanity. Then, Padraig called. This extraordinary man threw me a lifeline in the form of a possible job on his magazine, Irish Sports, in Waterford. I gladly accepted and flew from Boston to the land of my parents. They’d left to find a better life in America. I was retracing their steps with the same hope.

In the first book in this series, when I landed, I met Maureen, the daughter of Padraig, CFO and general manager of Padraig’s Shanahan Enterprises. She told me that SE consisted of a distillery, a sheep farm, an inn or pub, a nine-hole golf course, the magazine, and a one-third interest in a farm co-owned by her sister, Kathleen. She let it be known, not very subtly, that she didn’t think I was necessary. Her belief was that although Irish Sports needed something, it could be found within Ireland. No one needed a Yankee carpetbagger.

This attitude was promptly reinforced by my introduction to One-Pint Sullivan, the alcoholic editor of the magazine. He made it very clear my presence was not appreciated. He knew I was a threat to his job.

Three days after I arrived, Padraig returned from a business trip, reinforced his belief in me, and listened to what I had to say about the state of Irish Sports and what needed to be done to revive it.

Over the next several months, I made progress until by midyear we had a strategy and a plan. And I had a job. Sullivan grudgingly went along with the restructuring of Irish Sports into the remodeled and broader Irish Life. Over the course of the rest of the year, Padraig found Sullivan a job for which he was much better suited. But he wouldn’t forget who caused him to move. I planned to keep my eye on him in the future.

The next six months was a plodding journey made more complicated by the arrival of two new outsiders and the two wee fairies. This period was also highlighted by my growing relationship with Maureen. By Christmas, we realized we wanted each other, and when I proposed we form a long-term team, she accepted. We hadn’t told anyone yet.

The second week in January, Maureen and I decide to hold a party and break the news. It was the first party of what we hoped would be a prosperous 2010.

Engagement

M

aureen kicks off the year by demonstrating her party skills. She opens with the dining table, which reveals a silk damask cover peeking from under a wide-woven antique Irish lace cloth. Shining, delicate fine china dinner plates and cups reflect the candlelight prisms off the Waterford crystal candleholders. The room glows with soft lights and a few strategically placed orchids. Sweet and savory aromas drift in from the kitchen. Platters of enticing canapés cover a glass table, waiting to temp the guests. A large sterling silver tray carries several of Shanahan Spirits’ new liqueurs. Their tastes are based on the flavoring used: fruits, herbs, or spices.

Best of all is Maureen. She’s draped in a shimmering white silk dress. When she takes off her apron and moves about the room, putting in place the last touches in preparation for the arrival of the guests, the silk embroidery shoots shafts of light. I’m so very happy and so proud that this young woman will one day soon be my partner. I’ve come across the Atlantic and in less than one year have recovered from being a lost soul with no promising signs to becoming a part of this extraordinary family and company. What a gift from the Almighty, as Padraig would say.

Coming up behind Maureen, I gently envelop her in my arms, careful not to mess her thick, shiny chestnut hair woven into a chignon and held with a small gold clasp.

You are incredibly beautiful and superbly talented, I whisper in her ear. The hardest part of hugging you is letting you go.

I relax my grip slightly. Slowly, she turns in my embrace and gives me the slightest kiss, the biggest smile, and the softest whisper. Thank you, my prince.

A moment later the door bursts open, and Padraig strides into the room with Sullivan and Donal close on his heels. My goodness, girl, you light up the world like no one else. How do you do it?

"Och, Da, you are the sweetest man in the world. How do you do it?"

Sullivan steps from behind the giant and gives Maureen a shy hug. You are the most beautiful lass in Ireland, I swear, he says. Then, he turns toward me and gives me the evil eye.

I agree. You are the fairest damsel in the realm, shouts Donal as he shoves past Sullivan and hugs Maureen.

You be careful with your blarney, we hear from a red-haired zephyr who explodes through the doorway. There’s others also bringing light to this bleedin’ rock.

Kathleen it is, shouts Padraig and engulfs her in a massive hug. Close behind her and moving somewhat tentatively is Tim, her new farm manager.

Donal is pushed back by the growing crowd. As he backs off, he trips over the table holding the appetizers. Canapés take to the air as Donal tumbles backward onto the floor next to the sofa. He lies there with a sheepish grin on his face and canapés in his lap. Who put that bloody table there? he shouts.

Tim’s first contact with the whole family paralyzes him. He doesn’t seem to know what to do until Padraig grabs him around the shoulders and pulls him to the front of the group. Here’s the new boy. You’ve all met him. Now, make him part of the family.

Tim’s overwhelmed as the others crowd around him with hugs, smiles, and laughter. It’s a crush the shy lad hadn’t expected. He’s been working at the farm a couple of months, and this is just the second time he’s met everyone after his job interview. He’s clearly embarrassed.

Seeing Tim’s initial shock, Padraig grabs him again, hugging him even tighter. Get used to it, lad. We are a bit expressive. Don’t mind this one lying on the floor. That’s just his special way of saying welcome.

Donal looks up, salutes, and shouts, Fáilte a chur roimh, welcome.

It’s a bit of a surprise, Tim answers with a bewildered smile. Our family in Cork isn’t so outgoing. But I must say, I like it.

Very nice, Tim, Maureen says. Okay, Donal, you get up now and collect what’s left of the food. Come into the kitchen. I’ll wipe off your pretty shirt and give you another tray to bring out if you promise not to throw it at the wall. Everyone, take a plate and choose a seat. Michael will pass among you with a Shanahan liqueur of your choice, and Donal will bring another round of canapés.

With smiles and chuckles, everyone moves toward the fireplace, sofa, and coffee table.

Soon the conversation is rolling along as we enjoy Maureen’s culinary talent. Comments and compliments are shared. Once we’ve destroyed the appetizers, Maureen directs us to the stunning table. The next hour is as relaxing and enjoyable a feast as any we’ve known. Finally, Maureen says, Let’s move over to the fire, have coffee or tea, and share what everyone is planning on doing this wonderful new year. Kathleen and Tim, you go first. Tell us what’s happening at the farm.

Kathleen and Tim are sitting closest to the fire. She opens with, Tim has been here just two months, but already he’s made his mark. His first task was to renovate the old cottage so he would have a comfortable place to rest after I’ve worked him hard. He’s doing a beautiful job. It never looked anything like it does now.

It’s a bit of fun turning the old single large, moldy room into a snug home, Tim states. When I’ve finished, it will have two bedrooms, one bath, a modern small kitchen, and a dining and living space. I’m adding a large window looking south over the farm. If it ever stops raining, ’twill give a sunny view.

Kathleen comes back in. Now we’re into planning the nesting and egg-processing buildings next to a larger range fenced in for the chickens. Below that will be a level hectare for growing the herbs and spices for the sauces. I’m working on the design of a larger research building where we can experiment with new products. When we finish, we should be able to produce a great deal more than we can now. Of course, if it goes as planned, we’ll be outgrowing it in five years. We’ve our eyes on a meadow just to the south that we might be able to lease or buy for expansion. ’Tis a grand dream, it is.

It’s truly exciting, Padraig assures her. Turning to Maureen, he suggests, Darlin’, perhaps we need to think somewhat bigger in our financial planning. Then he asks Tim, Timothy, is your boss dreaming, or do you believe you’ll soon corner the egg market?

Having tasted her marvelous eggs, I suggest you think very big. There’s nothing in the world like Kathleen’s Happy Hens’ eggs. I’m sure there are spin-off products from them as well.

Back to Maureen, Padraig says, Best warn the bankers to loosen their belts. We don’t want to get in the way of the juggernaut these two are constructing.

Maureen smiles and agrees. I’ll add a couple zeroes to the loan request. How many millions will you two need? she asks, looking at them with a big grin.

Kathleen ignores her initially. Turning, she looks at Da and then Sullivan, asking, Are you two at the inn’s pub all day testing the latest Shanahan Spirits, or are you actually doing something useful?

Sullivan jumps in. Young lady, you’d best not overstep your tongue, or you may trip on it. You’d do well keepin’ up with us as we study all the problems and possibilities for the golf course and inn. It’s a big job with many pieces requirin’ deep thought, miles a-walkin’ the land, and cogitatin’ over a pint at the end of the long day.

Everyone laughs as Sullivan sits back, takes a sip of his nonalcoholic drink, and smiles like the cat who just caught the canary.

Padraig steps into the ring in support of his old comrade. Sullivan is correct. The days have been spent with a golf course architect and Jimmy the greenskeeper, walking the land north of the course. We’re applying our best imagination to how well this parcel could be worked to give us another contiguous nine holes. It’s no easy challenge considering the many factors. You have to reflect not only on the amount of land needed but also the nature of the soil, natural drainage slopes, type of grass best suited to the soil and the climate. One has to anticipate the wind patterns, for wind is a major factor in the game of golf. I could go on, but I don’t know if you can handle more. At the end of the day, it’s vitally necessary we rehydrate our bodies in order to be ready for the next day’s slog.

The room rocks with laughter as the big man’s smile overwhelms everyone.

Bravo, Da, I shout and raise my glass in salute.

Everyone is laughing so hard that some are sputtering and coughing around their drinks.

Don’t forget about me, shouts Donal over the din. I’ve finished my magic at the distillery. You’re enjoying the fruit of my brilliance. Now, I plan to move on. I want to help Kathleen and Tim on the farm. I like the animals and need to get out in the elements more. I don’t know much about animal husbandry, but I’m eager to learn. Who knows, one day I might want to retire and become a gentleman farmer.

Kathleen rolls her eyes to the ceiling and then says, Come ahead, boyo. The chickens will love to see you. Just don’t tickle them when you pick the eggs out of the nests. I know you’ll get used to the smell of chicken shite quickly.

When calm returns, Maureen speaks up. Da, we appreciate how you and Mr. Sullivan are sacrificing your bodies and brains in pursuit of your dream, but what has your trek yielded to date?

Padraig takes up the challenge. Our preliminary view, and I emphasize it is still very early in a venture of this magnitude, is that the land will likely offer a chance to build a challenging course, both beautiful and distinctive. We’ve not yet begun to consider how the inn fits into the scheme. It only adds more complexity to our challenge. We’ll have to set this aspect aside for further deliberation and reporting at another time, he says with finality.

Again, we laugh at his formal language and manner, so unlike him. Still, the by-product is a rise in the level of seriousness, despite the humor in the delivery.

Sullivan jumps back into the chat with a question for me. Michael, lad, what have you been up to lately? Haven’t heard much from you.

"In that case, Mr. Sullivan, I suspect you have spent too much time with Da in the wilderness. You need to come in out of the cold.

"Irish Life is jumping with activity. We’ve increased our advertising push greatly since the trade shows. The farm’s eggs and sauces, and the new liqueurs, were very well received. We’re taking advantage of that good press by hitting potential advertisers as quickly as we can. Initial responses have been encouraging. As I said months ago, when we started redesigning the book, we’ll have to wait a bit until new advertising budgets are set. Nevertheless, I’m certain our ad revenue in the first quarter of 2010 will be nearly double that of last year."

I like the sound of that, me lad, Padraig shouts. Keep it up. We’ll need every bit to fund the plans we have.

"Thanks, Da. Besides advertising, we’re developing new features that are designed to attract new readers. I’m interviewing a couple of freelance writers who have followers in subjects we’ve not covered in the past. This is another way to increase readership—letting people know some of their favorite writers are contributing to the book.

The new format has been out just four months, and already we’ve had letters from readers telling us how much they like the new design and content. Maureen’s and Kathleen’s columns are popular. Donal is launching a feature on technology’s effect on our lives. We’re looking forward to his erudition putting even more shine on the book. I have to thank everyone who contributed to this. It is clearly a group effort from both the staff and the people in this room. And I want to thank Mr. Sullivan for his support in the transition.

Sullivan nods but says nothing.

With that, Kathleen says rather coyly, We haven’t heard from the lady in the pretty white dress. What have you been doing in that plush office of yours while the rest of us have been slaving away to make Shanahan Enterprises a rocking success?

Maureen looks mock daggers at her sister, pauses, takes a deep breath, and proclaims proudly, In a commercial enterprise, nothing happens without the guidance of finance.

No one says a word for a few seconds. Then, Maureen lets out a devilish smile. Immediately, everyone gets her joke, and laughter erupts around the room.

She continues. "I don’t have any new projects within the finance function. Preparing to raise money to support your projects is my major focus going forward. That’s taking some new thinking on the financing of Shanahan Enterprises as a whole.

Da and I are already talking about sources we should approach, giving them the opportunity to lend us money. The current money market is a mess, as you know. With the financial crisis of the past decade, the bankers are reluctant to risk their behinds on new projects. It’s one thing to ask for money to support expansion of a proven business such as Shanahan Spirits. It’s quite another more difficult sale to get money for the new egg venture that is just entering the market. The bankers might think of it as seed money without a proven market to support it. Of course, Shanahan Enterprises is a minority owner of Kathleen’s business and will cosign the loan agreement. Maybe if you would make the bankers an omelet, Kathleen, they would see the wisdom of being involved. If the banks don’t share our vision, we’ll look to private lenders.

Well put, darlin’, interjects Padraig. Sometime late this year, after the farm expansion is on track and we’re seeing early returns on the investment, we may go after them to fund expansion of the golf course. That will be a big number, but it’s something they’ll understand. Maybe we’ll let them play the new course for free, if they make the loan.

Maureen smiles, then comes back in. Besides financial planning, I have to keep the shop running, as I seem to be the unofficial office manager. Fortunately, I have Michael’s help in this. He’s gained the confidence of the staff. They feel comfortable coming to him with questions or concerns. If this continues, he might decide he can do my job.

With that as an opening, I get up and walk over behind her chair.

Maureen, this might be a good time to announce the new job I am planning to take on.

Suddenly, the room goes silent. People look at each other quizzically. Most of all, Padraig looks like he’s just been hit in the face with a shillelagh.

Do you think they’re ready for this? Maureen asks with a somber look on her face.

I’m not sure. What do you think?

She looks around the table hesitatingly and then back at me.

Speak up, Kathleen cries. You can’t stop there.

Okay, Maureen replies, still hesitantly, Michael and I have been talking lately about a new venture. She pauses, looking up at me. It’s something we’ve been considering for several months. It’s a big move and a bit scary.

Yes. I step in. "It is a high risk, but if it works out, there is a great reward. We’ve given this a lot of thought, as it is a major departure from the past. Maureen and I have been working closely on the concept, and now we believe it has a very good chance of being a success.

You see, we’re like a dance team. The more we practice, the more we improve, and the more fun we have. So I’ve asked Maureen if we were to practice our routine constantly for maybe the next fifty years, does she think we could get really good at it.

I knew it! I knew it! shouts Kathleen, jumping up and down in her chair. You two are going to get married, aren’t you?

Maureen’s smile bursts out over the room, and she nods as mist comes over her eyes.

Padraig vaults out of his seat as though he’s riding a rocket. He wrenches Maureen from her chair with a great hug. Oh, my darlin’ girl. You make me so happy.

Turning to me, he grabs my shoulders and shakes me before hugging me. Now I have two sons to match my two lovely ladies.

For the next twenty minutes, everyone is involved, excitedly tossing ideas out on what we should do about a wedding and a honeymoon—Paris, New York, the south of Spain, how about Africa? The list grows amid laughs and side remarks. It’s overwhelming but gratifying to realize how I’m being accepted into this family.

So when is the wedding? Kathleen asks. Remember, I’m the maid of honor.

If you insist, Maureen answers. Actually, I was thinking of asking Mr. Sullivan. I’m certain he’d look great in the bridesmaids’ dresses.

Kathleen stands up straight as a major general on parade. Forget it, Sullivan. I spoke first.

The old fellow’s blush turns his already red face into a beacon. He nods at Kathleen. You’ll get no argument from me. I don’t look good in lacy things, I don’t.

We’re thinking the end of September, probably the twenty-fifth. Maureen steps back in. It’s still a new idea, but I think the twenty-fifth will be it, right, Michael?

I nod and add, There are so many new projects over the next several months; we have to coordinate wedding plans with the developments we all have going on. As much as we’d like to do it soon, Lent is no time for a wedding. Easter is mid-April. Then, we’re going into summer, so September seems to be about right.

I can wait till then. I don’t think the lad is going to run away, she says with a big smile. Moving closer, she grabs my arm and pulls us together side by side.

Keep that in mind as you work out your projects’ schedules. Don’t plan anything for the end of September. Now, it’s getting late, and tomorrow is a workday, so Da, why don’t you give us a bit of Yeats to send us on our way?

Padraig closes his eyes and muses for several seconds. "This seems appropriate for such a time as we have before us. ‘Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter.’ Go, my children, and make your sweet melodies so over this coming year, we may all hear them. This year is dedicated to preparing for a wedding."