The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy

like to think so.” With a smile that felt like a death grimace on her face, Jude set the envelope on the counter.
    “Are you sending something to a friend in America, then?”
    “Yes.” Jude kept the smile in place while the woman read the address. “An old college friend of mine. She lives in New York now.”
    “My grandson Dennis and his wife and family live inNew York City. Dennis, he works in a fancy hotel and makes a good wage hauling people’s luggage up and down the elevator. He says some of the rooms are like palaces.”
    Jude was afraid her face might crack, but she continued to smile. She’d learned enough in three months to know one didn’t just scoot in and out of the post office, or anywhere else in Ardmore, without a bit of conversation.
    “Does he enjoy his work?”
    “Aye, that he does, and his pretty wife worked doing hair and such until the second baby came along.”
    “That’s nice. I’d like this to get to New York as soon as possible.”
    “If you’re wanting to send it special that way, it’ll be a bit dear.”
    “That’s all right.” She felt as if she were moving through clear syrup as she reached into her bag for her wallet. In a daze she watched the weight and cost calculated, passed over the pounds and took the coins in change.
    “Thank you.”
    “It’s not a problem. No problem at all. Will your friend from New York be coming in for the wedding?”
    “What?”
    “No doubt your family will, but it’s nice to have old friends as well, isn’t it?”
    The roaring in her head became a harsh buzzing. Nerves were so quickly smothered by blank fury, she could only stare.
    “My John and I’ve been married near fifty years now, and still I remember so clear the day we wed. It rained a torrent, but it didn’t matter in the least to me. All my family was there, and John’s as well, packed into the little church so the smell of wet wool fought with the scent of the flowers. And me da, rest him, he wept like a baby when he walked me down the aisle, for I was his only daughter.”
    “That’s lovely,” Jude managed when she had her breath back. “But I’m not getting married.”
    “Oh, now, did you and Aidan have a lovers’ spat already?” The postmistress tut-tutted kindly. “Don’t take on about that, darling, it’s natural as the rain.”
    “We didn’t have a spat.” But she had a feeling they were going to have the world’s champion of spats very soon. “I’m just not getting married.”
    “You make him work for it,” she said with a wink. “Doesn’t hurt them a bit, and makes for a better husband in the end. Oh, and you should talk to Kathy Duffy about the wedding cake. She makes a fine one, pretty as a picture.”
    “I don’t need a cake,” Jude said between her teeth.
    “Now, then, just because it’s your second time doesn’t mean you don’t deserve a cake. Every bride does. And for the dress you should talk to Mollie O’Toole, as she found a lovely shop in Waterford City for her daughter’s.”
    “I don’t need a cake or a dress,” Jude said, waging a vicious war for patience, “because I’m not getting married. Thank you.”
    She turned on her heel and marched to the door.
    When she stepped out on the sidewalk, sucked in air, she glared at the sign for Gallagher’s.
    She couldn’t go in now, couldn’t possibly. She’d kill him if she did.
    And why the hell shouldn’t she? He deserved to die.
    Long, purposeful strides ate up the ground until she reached the pub. And flung the door open.
    “Aidan Gallagher!”
    The room filled to bursting with locals and the tourists who’d stopped in for a bite to eat or a drink went dead quiet at her outburst.
    At the bar Aidan paused in the draft he was drawing.When she stalked to the bar, the gleam in her eye laser-bright, he set the pint aside. She didn’t look a thing like the soft, sleepy woman he’d left shortly after dawn. That woman had looked silky and satisfied.
    And this one looked murderous.
    “I want a word with you,” she told him.
    He didn’t think it was going to be a good word. “All right, then, give me a minute here and we’ll go upstairs where we can be private.”
    “Oh, now he wants privacy. Well, forget it.” She turned to the room. The stares and interested faces didn’t embarrass her this time, didn’t give her that hollow feeling in the belly. This time they fueled an already black temper.
    “You’re all welcome to listen to what I have to say, since