The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy

an interest in knowing if you’re going out with the Dubliner again just now.”
    “I ought to, just to slap at you.” She jammed her hands in her pockets. “That’s what Darcy would do.”
    “Ah, but you’re not Darcy, are you, darling?”
    “No, I’m not, and I haven’t the talent or the energy to juggle men like apples. I told the Dubliner I was seeing someone.”
    Shawn glanced over, met her eyes. “Thanks for that.”
    “What I’d like to know is when I’m going to be sleeping with someone.”
    He added the spiced mustard he knew Mick O’Toole favored, and kept his brows lifted. “In all the years I’ve known you, never did I realize you had such an obsession with sex.”
    “I wouldn’t be obsessed with sex if I was having sex.”
    “Well, now, how can you be sure of that, as you’ve never had it with me?”
    She wanted to pull her hair, decided to laugh instead. “Christ Jesus, Shawn, you’re enough to drive a woman to drink.”
    “Go out and have Darcy pull you a pint on me,” he began, then his head came up again as he heard the sound of voices through the back door. “No, wait. Follow along here.”
    “Follow what?”
    “Ladle the soup.” He gave a wag of his hand toward the bowls. “And just follow along.”
    The back door opened, and Aidan stepped back to let Finkle go through. “The kitchen’s Shawn’s territory, as you can see. We’ve added this and that as he’s felt a need for it. Oh, hello, Brenna. This is our friend and occasional employee, Brenna O’Toole. Brenna, Mr.Finkle from New York.”
    “Pleased to meet you.” Clueless, Brenna put on a company smile and ladled the soup.
    “Mr. Finkle’s here about adding a restaurant to the pub,” Shawn began.
    “A theater,” Aidan said in a tone so sharp that Brenna nearly bobbled the bowl in surprise. “The theater, Shawn. You’re confused again.”
    “Oh, aye, the theater. Sure and I can’t keep business dealings straight in my mind for five minutes at a run.”
    “But you make a lovely soup.” Brenna gave him an encouraging look, one she might have sent to a slightly slow twelve-year-old. And hoped that was what he’d had in mind. “Would you care for a bowl of it now, Mr. Finkle, or have you eaten already?”
    “No, I haven’t.” The kitchen smelled like someone’s devoted grandmother’s kitchen, and it had his mouth watering. “It’s very aromatic.”
    “And tastes better, I can promise you. What kind of theater are you thinking of?”
    “A small, tasteful entertainment arena. My employer wants something traditional.”
    “People like to eat and lift a glass or two before or after the theater, don’t they?” Shawn dressed the sandwich with a bit of parsley and radish.
    “As a rule.” Finkle scanned the room, the shining pots, the scrubbed counters, the tidy workstation. The stove was enormous and looked older than Zeus, but it appeared to be in good working order.
    It might do, he thought. He would make a note of it in his report.
    “Well, then, they couldn’t do better than Gallagher’s for that,” Brenna assured him. “Would you like to sit here in the kitchen, sir, or would you prefer a table?”
    “A table, if you don’t mind,” he told Brenna. The better to observe the business flow.
    “I’ll get you settled.” Smoothly Aidan gestured toward the door. “You just tell our Darcy what you’d enjoy for your lunch. On the house, of course.”
    Aidan shot one triumphant look over his shoulder as he led Finkle out.
    “What’s this about a theater? And why were you acting as though you’d misplaced a few brain cells since you woke up this morning?”
    “Well, I’ll tell you. Go on and get your father his lunch, then come back and have your soup here, and I’ll give you the full story.”
     
     
    When he had, Brenna sat back, gnawing her bottom lip as she did when thinking hard business. “I know this Magee.”
    “Do you?”
    “Well, not personal like, but I know of him. Them, actually. Father and son, they are, but the son is more in the way of doing the running of things now.”
    “A family business,” Shawn mused. “Well, that’s something I can appreciate.”
    “A well-established one at that. He builds beautiful things, does Magee. Mostly theaters and arenas and such. He’s very big in America, and in England too, I’m thinking. My mother’s cousin’s nephew Brian Cagney went to work for one of his construction teams in New York. He wrote me a year or two