The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy

she’d eaten had leaped into her system and then away, leaving her momentarily giddy.
    She shrugged it off, leaning forward to the mirror to make sure she hadn’t smeared her mascara. She would probably see him again, in the pub tonight or when she took flowers to Maude the next time.
    With her bracelets jangling cheerfully and giving her confidence, she headed downstairs. She remembered her keys before she got all the way to the car this time, which she considered good progress. Just as she considered it a good sign that her palms didn’t sweat while she negotiated the road in the dark.
    Pleased with herself, anticipating a quiet and enjoyable evening, she parked at the curb just down from Gallagher’s. Smoothing her hair as she went, she walked to the door, breathed in, pulled it open.
    And was nearly knocked back again by the blast of music.
    Pipes, fiddle, voices, then the wild roar of the crowd on the chorus of “Whiskey in the Jar.” The rhythm was so fast, so reckless it was a blur of sound and that soundgrabbed her, yanked her inside, then surrounded her.
    This wasn’t the dark, quiet pub she’d stepped into before. This one was crowded with people, spilling over at the low tables, jammed into the bar, milling about with glasses full and glasses empty.
    The musicians—how could only three people make such a sound?—were shoehorned into the front booth, taking the space over in their workingmen’s clothes and boots as they played like demon angels. The room smelled of smoke, yeast, and Saturday-night soap.
    For a moment she wondered if she’d walked into the wrong place, but then spotted Darcy, her glorious cloud of dark hair tied back with a sassy red ribbon. She carried a tray loaded with empty glasses, bottles, overflowing ashtrays while she flirted skillfully with a young man whose face was as red as her ribbon with embarrassed delight and whose eyes were filled with desperate admiration.
    Catching Jude’s eye, Darcy winked, then gave the infatuated young man a pat on the cheek and nudged her way through the crowd. “Pub’s lively tonight. Aidan said you’d be coming in and to keep an eye out for you.”
    “Oh . . . that was nice of him, of you. I wasn’t expecting so . . . much.”
    “The musicians are favored around here, and they draw a good crowd.”
    “They’re wonderful.”
    “They play a fine tune, yes.” Darcy was more interested in Jude’s earrings, and wondered where she’d bought them and what the price might have been. “Here now, just keep in my wake and I’ll get you to the bar safe enough.”
    She did just that, winding and wending, nudging now and then with a laugh and a comment addressed to this one or that one by name. She headed for the far end of the bar,where she slipped her tray through bodies to the order station.
    “Good evening, Mr. Riley, sir,” Darcy said to the ancient man at the very last stool.
    “Good evening to you as well, young Darcy.” He spoke in a reedy voice, smiled at her out of eyes that looked half blind to Jude as he sipped his thick, dark Guinness. “If you marry me, darling, I’ll make you a queen.”
    “Then marry we will Saturday next, for a queen I deserve to be.” She gave him a pretty kiss on his papery cheek. “Will Riley, let the Yank here have your seat next to your grandda.”
    “Pleasure.” The thin man hopped off the stool and beamed a smile at Jude. “You’re the Yank, then. Sit down here, next to me grandda, and we’ll buy you a pint.”
    “The lady prefers wine.” Aidan, the glass already in his hand, stepped into her vision and offered it.
    “Yes. Thank you.”
    “Well, then, put it on Will Riley’s tab, Aidan, and we’ll drink to all our cousins across the foam.”
    “That I’ll do, Will.” He spread that slow smile over Jude, said, “Stay awhile, won’t you?” Then moved off to work.
    She stayed awhile. Because it seemed polite, she drank toasts to people she’d never heard of. Because it required little effort on her part, she had a conversation with both Rileys about their relations in the States and their own visits there—though she knew she disappointed them both when she admitted she’d never been to Wyoming and seen an actual cowboy.
    She listened to the music, because it was wonderful. Tunes both familiar and strange, both rousing and heartbreaking flowed through and over the crowd. She let herselfhum when she recognized the song and smiled when old Mr. Riley piped out words in