The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy

smile at the man with thinning hair and vaguely irritated black eyes.
    “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Finkle. We’ve cousins in New York City, and friends as well. They say it’s a fast and busy place, with something doing every minute of every day. Aidan, you’ve been to New York City. Is that how you remember it as well?”
    Because he had to swallow a chuckle, Aidan merely nodded. Shawn had thickened his accent, just enough to add atmosphere and a touch of country bumpkin.
    “Aidan’s one for traveling. Sure, and it runs in the family, it does. But as for me, I’m one for staying where he’s planted.”
    “Yes, well,” Finkle began, obviously prepared to dismiss Shawn and get back to important matters.
    “So, have you come on holiday to Ardmore, Mr. Finkle? Sure, and it’s a fine spot for it. Quiet now, so you’re lucky,” Shawn went on. “By end of May, they’ll come swarming to the beaches since we’ve such fine ones, and then they pack into the pub so I can barely keep up with the orders. A body can get a bit of a rest in the winter at least.”
    “I’m here on business.” Finkle spoke precisely, and the hard edge to his consonants Shawn recognized as native New Yorker. “For Magee Enterprise.”
    At Shawn’s convincingly blank look, Aidan shook his head. “Shawn, I told you about the possibility of doing a deal with Mr. Magee. His theater?”
    “Well, now, I never thought you were serious.” Shawn scratched his head. “A cinema in Ardmore?”
    “Not a movie theater,” Finkle said with obvious impatience. “One for live entertainment.”
    “I think it’s a wonderful idea.” Darcy sidled up to the bar, beamed approval at Finkle. “Just brilliant. You must come to the pub tonight, Mr. Finkle, so you can have a sample of the kind of local talent we could offer your theater.”
    “What about the man from London?” Shawn sent baffled looks to Darcy, then Aidan. “The restaurant man?”
    “We’ll talk about that later.” Aidan gave Shawn a small and very obvious nudge. “That’s not important.”
    Finkle’s shoulders straightened, his eyebrows lowered. “Are you speaking with another investor, Mr. Gallagher?”
    “It’s not a serious matter. Not at all. Why don’t I show you the land we’ll be discussing? Sure, you’ll want a look at it, won’t you? You’re not after buying a pig in a poke. Shawn, you man the bar here, there’s a lad.” Hastily, Aidan flipped up the pass-through. “We’ll have a walk about the place, Mr. Finkle, and see what’s what.”
    “Please do come back, won’t you?” Darcy called out and had the satisfaction of seeing Finkle flush a little as he glanced back her way. “I’d love to sing for you.”
    She waited until they were safely out and away. “The man from London,” she said, snickering. “That was inspired.”
    “Just came to me. And I’ll wager a pound to a pence that the minute he gets back to a phone he’s ringing Magee in New York to tell him we’re playing two lines.”
    “It could backfire, you know, Shawn, and have this Magee looking elsewhere.”
    “Or it could pay off.” He reached over to tug her hair, surprised at how much fun he’d had playing the game. “Life’s a gamble, isn’t it?”
    He looked up as Brenna and her father came in for their lunch hour. “And that’s half the fun of living. A good day to you, Mr. O’Toole,” he said when Mick strolled to the bar. “Mary Brenna. And what can we do for you?”
    “I’ve a thirst, Shawn.” Mick sent Darcy a wink.
    “We can help you there.” Knowing his man’s preferences, Shawn slid a pint glass under the tap and began the process of building a Guinness. “And for you, Brenna?”
    “I’m more interested in that soup I see on your menu.” She nodded toward the daily board. “But there’s no hurry.”
    “None at all,” Mick confirmed as he slid onto a stool. “We’re all but finished at your brother’s house this morning. My Brenna here will tidy it up by day’s end, then we’ll be back to renovating rooms at the hotel. Sure, and I’ll miss coming in here for your cooking, Shawn. Not that the hotel doesn’t serve a good meal, but no one has your touch.”
    “Will you have some soup today, and a sandwich as well, Mr. O’Toole?” Darcy slipped behind the bar to pour the tea she assumed Brenna wanted. “A man works as hard as you, he needs his fuel.”
    “Well, I will at that, Darcy darling. You’ll make some fortunate man the