Chapter Text
"Here you go,” the barista said with a big smile. Lena did not understand the overly cheerful American customer service. Perhaps it was the never-ending sunshine outside, or maybe they were trying to make up for the ten-minute wait and the subpar selection.
Lena wanted to roll her eyes in response but managed a faint, polite nod instead.
This was Noonan's, the go-to coffee shop in National City. She had high hopes to find something edible at least, but the moment she grabbed the sad-looking scone, she knew the mistake she had made with her choice.
"Great," she said under her breath. She poked the offensive pastry with her finger, and it instantly broke into crumbs. Why was it so hard to get a proper scone in this city?
Her mam would've laughed at the pathetic heap of crumbs on her plate. Probably going into a lecture about how real scones were made not only from butter and cream, but they needed a healthy dose of Irish stubbornness to stick together.
The thought made her miss home even more.
She'd been in National City for three weeks now, and nothing felt right. The pastries, the weather, even the air outside felt wrong to her.
Oh, how she missed the rain, the smell of the earth and the sea.
Lena poked again at the sad heap of crumbs on her plate, letting out a frustrated sigh while pushing the plate away from her.
"Oh! You should try the sticky buns instead!"
Lena half turned around, some choice words forming to whoever dared to interrupt her sad musings. But before the words could leave her mouth, she stopped herself. In front of her was a woman whose smile was genuine and seemed to light up her face. It was very unlike the usual polite expressions she had encountered in National City so far.
Her blonde hair was pulled back in a practical half-poyntail that hadn’t quite contained all the strands - as if she’d been running late that morning - and her blue eyes were bright and kind behind slightly askew glasses.
"I mean, if you're looking for something else instead of - " the woman points at Lena's plate, "whatever that was."
"A sad simile of a scone, unfortunately." Lena turned completely now to the woman that had interrupted her.
"Oh wow," the woman continued, "yeah, don't eat that. The sticky buns here are way better, sweet, and like, they'll change your day." The woman kind of awkwardly pushed up her glasses.
"Day-changing pastry? That's quite the claim."
"I'd stake my journalistic integrity on it. "The blonde said with a nod, "I take pastries very seriously."
"Journalist, is it?" Lena found herself warming to the conversation despite her initial irritation. "I would have guessed marketing."
The woman laughed, bright and genuine. "Ha, no, just their most loyal customer - though, now that you mention it. I should totally pitch them the idea. They can pay me in pastries."
She paused, then added with mock seriousness, "Except the scones. I wouldn't eat those either."
"Wise decision." Lena glanced down again at the sad pastry on her plate. "Though where I'm from, these wouldn't even qualify as scones. More like..." She searched for the right word in English but came up empty and switched to Irish without thinking. "díomá fíor."
"Oh! You're from Ireland?" Her smile widened. "That explains the scone standards. My sister's girlfriend made proper scones once - I think she got the recipe from a relative in Glasgow. They were amazing."
"Scottish scones are acceptable," Lena conceded with a small smile.
"Next customer, please!" the barista called out.
The blonde suddenly seemed to remember where they were. "Oh gosh, sorry everyone!"
She turned to Lena with a quick smile. "Let me fix your breakfast situation."
Stepping up to the counter, she said, "I'll have my usual order and an extra sticky bun." She glanced back at Lena. "Would you like something to drink?"
"Tea, actually. Irish breakfast if they have it." Lena caught the blonde's amused look. "Some stereotypes exist for a reason."
While waiting for their orders, Lena found herself stealing glances at the journalist, who was now paying for what seemed to be enough food for three people. There was something about her.
The sticky bun, when it arrived, looked very different from the sad scone. It was warm and smelled like cinnamon and caramel.
"Well?" The blonde appeared beside her, balancing her own considerable breakfast order. "Moment of truth. Your first Noonan's sticky bun experience."
Lena broke off a small piece, aware of her audience's expectant gaze. The pastry was soft and perfectly balanced between sweet and substantial. "Okay," she admitted. "These are really good."
"See! Sticky buns never fail." The woman suddenly noticed the time, "Oh no. I am so late." She rebalanced her bags, preparing to leave. "Thanks for trusting my recommendation. It was nice meeting you..."
She trailed off at the end, possibly fishing for a name, but Lena hesitated. Her life was complicated at the moment. Tomorrow she'd announce the arrival of her company, Walsh Industries, to National City. This moment - this simple, warm interaction with a stranger- would become more difficult. Plus it would be unlikely they would ever meet again.
"Just a disappointed scone seeker," she said instead of her name, raising her tea in farewell.
The woman's smile dimmed just slightly, but she nodded. "Well, I hope you find better scones. Though the sticky buns will be here as an alternative."
Lena watched her go, hesitating for a moment before vanishing into the crowd.
Her phone buzzed - another email about tomorrow's press conference - but for a moment, she just sipped her tea, reluctant to step back into reality.
She needed that moment of normalcy, a brief connection with a stranger.
Tomorrow, things would change. She'd be stepping into the spotlight as the young engineer whose innovative green energy solutions were transforming the way people used electricity. Her small Dublin startup had become a fast-growing force in the tech world.
For now, she was just someone with a warm cup of tea and breakfast chosen by a stranger with a beautiful smile.
"Danvers," Snapper's voice cut through the newsroom chaos. "My office. Now."
Kara looked up from her computer, where she'd been absentmindedly touching her lower lip, still tasting cinnamon from her own morning sticky buns. She hurried to Snapper's office, notebook already in hand.
"The Walsh Industries press conference." Snapper didn't look up from his computer. "You're covering it."
"I am?" Kara fidgets with her glasses, shifting them a fraction higher. "I mean, yes, I am. But isn't that more of a business section story?"
"It would be, if this was any other tech company moving to National City." He finally looked at her. "But Walsh Industries is different. Young CEO, fresh approach, environmental focus. We need a human interest angle."
Kara nodded, already pulling up the press release and the companies' website. "Their work in sustainable energy is impressive. The solar collection method they developed in Dublin—"
"Skip the technical specs, Danvers. I want to know who Lena Walsh is. Twenty-eight years old, built a company from scratch in Ireland, now choosing National City for their first international expansion. Why here? Why now? Get me something our readers can connect with."
"She seems quite private," Kara said, scanning her screen. "Not much press coverage beyond the technical announcements."
"Which is exactly why this matters. New player in town, clean energy focus, female CEO under thirty – social media is already buzzing. Get me the story behind the story."
"Right, yes. I'll start preparing questions."
"You have an exclusive. One-on-one interview after the press conference."
Kara looked up sharply. "How did you manage that?"
Snapper's expression shifted to something almost like pride. "Because, unlike the business reporters who've been chasing this story, you have something they don't."
"What's that?"
"A track record of treating people like people, not headlines." He turned back to his computer. "Don't make me regret this."
"I won't." Kara responded to the obvious dismissal.
Back at her desk, she dove into research with renewed focus. Walsh Industries started in a small workshop in Dublin, growing steadily through a series of innovative green energy patents. Their solar collection technology was revolutionary, but it was their commitment to making it accessible that caught Kara's attention. They'd partnered with small communities, helping them transition to sustainable power solutions.
"Earth to Kara?" James's voice broke through her concentration. "You've been staring at that screen for hours."
"James! Did you know Walsh Industries provided free energy upgrades to several rural communities outside of Dublin?"
He smiled. "Found an angle for your story?"
"Maybe." She spun her chair to face him. "Everyone's focusing on the technology or the business expansion, but look at how they operate. The community involvement, the accessibility initiatives. It's like they're trying to help people, not just make money."
"Sounds like someone else I know." James raised an eyebrow meaningfully.
Kara nudges her glasses. "I think... maybe there's more to this story than another tech company moving to National City?"
"Trust your instincts, Kara. They usually lead you to the heart of the story." He glanced at her desk. "Though maybe take a break? You've got crumbs in your keyboard again."
She laughed, brushing at her keyboard. "Hey, sticky buns are worth a few crumbs. Actually, I convinced someone to try them for the first time this morning. She was having a scone crisis."
"A scone crisis?"
"She was Irish, the scones weren't up to standard: there was a whole thing." Kara smiled, remembering the woman's subtle wit and how easily she had switched between English and Irish, or was it Gaelic, or Gaeilge? Kara briefly wondered if there was a difference before adding, "I should have asked her name."
She really should have pushed for a name.
"Sounds like an interesting morning." James said, bringing Kara back to the conversation.
"It was a nice moment, you know? Sometimes, it's good to connect with people as... people." She turned back to her screen, to an article about Walsh Industries' community projects. "Everyone has a story worth telling."
James squeezed her shoulder as he passed. "Good luck with the interview tomorrow, Kara."
She nodded, already lost in her research again. Something about Walsh Industries' approach resonated with her own values – using power to help others, making a difference in people's daily lives. She wanted to understand the person behind these decisions, to tell the story that wasn't in the press releases and technical specifications.
Kara’s thoughts were interrupted when her phone buzzes.
‘Still on for dinner tonight? Kelly's making her mom's lasagna.’ - Alex
Kara glanced at her research-strewn desk and the time - already past four. She types back: ‘I'm running late. Press conference tomorrow for Walsh Industries and I really want to be prepared. Their work in sustainable energy is amazing. ‘
The reply comes quickly: ‘Come over when you're done. Kelly always makes extra and you know how I feel about leftover lasagna.’
‘You're the best! Tell Kelly I love her. Won't be too late, promise! ❤️’
She put her phone down and went back to her notes. The interview with the CEO was just a few hours away. She wanted to find out not just what Walsh Industries did but why it mattered.
She brushed off the last of the crumbs and focused on her work again. She was going to be ready.
The press conference room buzzed with anticipation. Kara looked down, reviewing her notes one last time while photographers pushed for positions near the podium. She'd chosen a spot slightly off to the side where she could observe both the presentation and the speaker.
The room hushed as Walsh Industries' PR director stepped up to make introductions. Kara glanced up automatically and nearly dropped her notebook.
It was her. The woman from Noonan's. The scone critic with the quiet wit was Lena Walsh.
Before Kara could fully process this revelation, Lena herself stepped up to the podium. Her dark hair was pulled back in a sleek chignon—professional and stylish—but Kara recognized the subtle hint of mischief in her green eyes. If their casual breakfast conversation had surprised her, seeing that same woman command a room of reporters was equally startling.
"Good morning," Lena began, her accent noticeably more controlled than it had been over pastries. "Thank you all for being here. Walsh Industries is excited to announce our expansion to National City..."
Kara forgot, for a moment, that she was supposed to be taking notes. Instead, she watched how Lena confidently handled questions about market projections and technical specifications. She spoke about solar collection arrays and power distribution with the same passion she'd dismissed American scones, but there was something more, a vision that went beyond profit margins.
"The technology exists," Lena was saying, responding to a question about implementation costs. "The challenge isn't creating sustainable energy solutions. It's making them accessible to everyone, not just those who can afford the latest innovations."
A business reporter from the Daily Planet pressed about profit margins. Lena's smile turned sharp. "I grew up in a small fishing town in Kerry. Watched boats go out in all weather because people needed to make a living. Sustainability is about environmental impact, yes, but it is also about creating solutions people can actually use, that make their daily lives better." Her accent strengthened slightly on 'better,' and Kara caught herself smiling at the shift.
"Ms. Walsh!" another reporter called out. "Why National City for your first international expansion?"
"Because National City is ready for change." Lena's gaze swept the room, pausing briefly—so briefly Kara might have imagined it—as their eyes met. "This city has shown it's willing to embrace innovation, to look forward rather than back. We're not here to compete with existing energy companies. We're here to collaborate, to help create a future where clean energy isn't a luxury but a given."
The press conference continued, but Kara found herself watching the small details. How Lena's hands moved more when she talked about community impact than quarterly projections. The way her voice sharpened when she was particularly passionate about a point. The subtle shift in her smile when fielding questions about Dublin versus her clear pride when discussing the rural implementation projects.
Finally, the PR director stepped forward to announce the end of questions. "Ms. Walsh has time for one exclusive interview today: CatCo Magazine."
Kara stood, gathering her notes. Across the room, Lena's composed expression cracked slightly - a hint of the woman who'd bantered about breakfast peeking through.
"If you'll follow me, Ms. Danvers," the PR director gestured toward a side door. "Ms. Walsh will join you shortly."
Kara nodded, trying to gather her thoughts. She had prepared questions about community impact, about making technology accessible, and about choosing National City. Good questions, relevant questions.
But all she could think about was the woman from yesterday morning, who'd talked about scones and community with equal passion. There was a story here beyond the business expansion and green energy initiatives. About someone who'd built something meaningful from scratch, who seemed to genuinely care about making a difference.
The conference room they'd been directed to offered a sweeping view of National City's skyline. Kara was double-checking her recorder when the door opened, and Lena Walsh stepped in, closing it quietly behind her.
"Well." A hint of yesterday's warmth crept into Lena's voice. "I suppose I should have asked for your name at Noonan's."
"In my defense, I did stake my journalistic integrity on those sticky buns." Kara set her glasses straight. "Though I'm starting to think maybe I should have led with my credentials instead."
"The sticky buns were an excellent credential." Lena sat down across from her, becoming more relaxed than she had been at the press conference. "And you were right about them."
"I'd offer to get you another one to celebrate the press conference, but..." Kara gestured to her recorder. "Probably crosses some journalistic ethical line."
"Probably." Lena's smile turned professional again, though her eyes retained their warmth. "Shall we begin, Ms. Danvers?"
Kara straightened, engaging her recorder. "Of course. Thank you for taking the time, Ms. Walsh," she said, glancing at her prepared questions before setting them aside. "You mentioned growing up in Kerry. That's quite a journey from there to here."
"Dingle," Lena specified, something shifting in her expression. "Small fishing town on the peninsula. About as far from National City as you can get, in more ways than one." She paused, considering. "Though perhaps that's why this city appeals to me. There's an energy here, a sense of possibility."
"Your company started in Dublin?"
"A small workshop, yes. But the idea began in Dingle." Lena's gaze drifted to the window. "Watching fishing boats head out before dawn, knowing families depended on each catch. Energy costs, fuel costs - they hit small communities hard. I wanted to create solutions that would work for people like that, not just corporations."
"Is that why your rural implementation projects focused on fishing communities first?"
"You've done your research." Lena looked impressed. "Yes, partly. But it was also practical. If technology can work in harsh coastal conditions, it can work almost anywhere."
They fell into an easy rhythm, discussing Walsh Industries' evolution from local projects to larger initiatives. Kara found herself drawn to the way Lena spoke about technical challenges - not as obstacles, but as puzzles to solve.
"You're not what I expected," Kara said during a natural pause, then immediately wished she could take it back. "I mean—"
"From our sticky bun discussion, or from your research?" There was that hint of mischief again.
"Both, maybe?" Kara smiled. "Most CEOs don't start press conferences by referencing their hometown's fishing industry."
"Most CEOs probably didn't spend their childhood watching their mother repair boat engines." Lena's voice caught slightly on 'engine,' the word turning melodic. "Everything I know about building things that last, I learned in that town."
The conversation wound down naturally, both aware of time constraints. As Kara gathered her notes, Lena spoke again.
"I hope you'll do the story justice, Ms. Danvers." Something vulnerable flickered across her face. "It's more than a business expansion."
"I know." Kara met her eyes. "And I will."
They shook hands: professional, but lingering a moment too long. At the door, Lena turned back.
"The sticky buns really were good," she said. "Thank you for the recommendation."
Kara watched her walk away, then looked down at her notes. She had the facts, the figures, the polished corporate pitch. But all she could think about was a girl from a fishing town, trying to build something that lasted.