The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy

kind.
    Satisfied altogether with the start of his day, Shawn wandered out to the pub to help Aidan take the chairs off the tables in preparation for the first shift.
    But Aidan was standing behind the bar, frowning off into space.
    “A problem with the distributor, then?”
    “No, not at all.” Aidan shifted his frown to Shawn. “That was a call from New York City, a man named Magee.”
    “New York City? Why, it can’t be five in the morning there as yet.”
    “I know it, but the man sounded awake and sober.” Aidan scratched his head, then shook it and lifted his tea. “He has a mind to put a theater up in Ardmore.”
    “A theater.” Shawn set the first chair down, then just leaned on it. “For films?”
    “No, for music. Live music, and perhaps plays as well. He said he was calling me as he’d heard that Gallagher’s was in the way of being the center of music here. He wanted my thoughts on the matter.”
    Considering, Shawn took down another chair. “And what were they?”
    “Well, I didn’t have any to speak of, being taken by surprise that way. I said if he wanted he could give me a day or two to think on it. He’ll ring me back end of week.”
    “Now why would a man from New York City be thinking of building a musical theater here? Wouldn’t you set your sights on Dublin, or out in Clare or Galway?”
    “That was part of his point,” Aidan answered. “He wasn’t a fount of information, but he indicated he wanted this area in particular. So I said to him perhaps he wasn’t aware we’re a fishing village and little more. Sure, the tourists come for the beaches, and some to climb up to see Saint Declan’s and take photographs and the like, but we’re not what you’d call teeming with people.”
    With a shrug, Aidan came around to help Shawn set up. “He just laughed at that and said he knew that well enough, and he was thinking of something fairly smallscale and intimate.”
    “I can tell you what I think.” When Aidan nodded, Shawn continued. “I think it’s a grand notion. Whether it would work is a different matter, but it’s a fine notion.”
    “I have to weigh the this and that of it first,” Aidan murmured. “Likely as not, the man will reconsider and head for somewhere more lively in any case.”
    “And if he doesn’t, I’d talk him ’round to building it back of the pub.” As it was part of the routine, Shawn gathered up ashtrays and began to set them out on the tables. “We’ve that little bit of land there, and if his theater was in the way of being attached to Gallagher’s, we’d be the ones to benefit most.”
    Aidan set down the last chair and smiled slowly. “That’s a good notion altogether. You’re a surprise to me, Shawn, working your mind around to the business of it.”
    “Oh, I’ve a thought in my head every once in a while.”
     
     
    Still, he didn’t give it much of another thought once the doors were open and the customers rolling in. He had time for a quick and entertaining spat with Darcy, giving him the pleasure of seeing her flounce out of his kitchen vowing never to speak to him again until he was six years in his grave.
    He doubted he’d have luck enough for that.
    He scooped up stew, fried fish and chips, built sandwiches thick with grilled ham and cheese. The constant hum of voices through the door was company enough. And for the first hour of lunch shift, Darcy kept her word, glaring silently as she swung in and out for orders, and giving new ones by staring at the wall.
    It amused him so much that when she came in to dump empties, he grabbed her and kissed her noisily on the mouth. “Speak to me, darling. You’re breaking my heart.”
    She shoved at him, slapped his hands, then gave up and laughed. “I’ll speak to you right enough, you bonehead. Turn me loose.”
    “Only after you promise not to brain me with something.”
    “Aidan’ll take the breakage out of my pay, and I’m saving for a new dress.” She tossed back her cloud of silky black hair and sniffed at him.
    “Then I’m safe enough.” He set her down and turned to flip over a hunk of sizzling whitefish.
    “We’ve a couple of German tourists who want to try your stew, with brown bread and slaw. They’re staying at the B and B,” she went on as Shawn got thick bowls. “Heading toward Kerry tomorrow, then into Clare, so they say. If it were me, and I had holiday in January, I’d be spending it in sunny Spain or some tropical island where you didn’t