The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy

his thin voice.
    “I was sweet of heart on your cousin Maude,” Mr. Riley told Jude. “But she was only for Johnny Magee, rest his soul.” He sighed deep and sipped his Guinness in the same fashion. “And one day when I went to her door with my hat in my hand once again, she told me I’d marry a lass with fair hair and gray eyes before the year was out.”
    He paused, smiling to himself as if, Jude thought, looking backward. She leaned closer to hear him over the thunder of music. “And before a month had passed I met my Lizzie, with her fair hair and gray eyes. We were married in June and had nearly fifty years together before she passed on.”
    “That’s lovely.”
    “Maude, she knew things.” His faded eyes looked into Jude’s. “The Good People often whispered in Maude’s ear.”
    “Did they?” Jude said, amused now.
    “Oh, aye, and you being her blood, they may come whispering in yours. See that you listen.”
    “I’ll do that.”
    For a time they sipped companionably and listened to the music. Then tears filmed Jude’s eyes when Darcy slipped her arm around the old man’s bony shoulders and matched her glorious voice to his on a song of endless love and loss.
    When she saw Brenna pouring whiskey and pulling the taps behind the bar, Jude smiled. For once the cap was missing, and Brenna’s mass of red curls tumbled down as they chose.
    “I didn’t know you worked here.”
    “Oh, now and again, when there’s need. What’s your pleasure there, Jude?”
    “Oh, this is Chardonnay, but I really shouldn’t—”
    But she was talking to Brenna’s back and before she knew it the woman had turned around and filled her glass again. “Weekends can be busy at Gallagher’s,” Brenna went on. “And I’ll lend a hand over the summer season as well. It’s fine music tonight, isn’t it?”
    “It’s wonderful.”
    “And how’s it all going then, Mr. Riley, my darling?”
    “It’s going well, pretty Brenna O’Toole. And when are you going to be my bride and stop my heart from aching?”
    “In the merry month of May.” Smoothly, she replaced his empty pint with a full one. “Watch this rogue, mind you, Jude, or he’ll be after toying with your affections.”
    “Take the other end, will you, Brenna?” Aidan slipped behind her, tugged on her bright hair. “I’ve a mind to work down here so I can flirt with Jude.”
    “Ah, there’s another rogue for you. The place is full of them.”
    “She’s a pretty one,” Mr. Riley put in and Aidan winked at Jude.
    “Which one of them, Mr. Riley, sir?”
    “All of them.” Mr. Riley wheezed out a laugh and slapped his thin hand on the bar. “Sure and I’ve never seen a female face that wasn’t pretty enough for a pinch. The Yank here has witchy eyes. You mind your step, Aidan lad, or she’ll put a spell on you.”
    “Maybe she has already.” He cleared glasses, put them in the sink under the bar, got fresh ones for the tap. “Have you been out of a midnight, Jude Frances, picking moonflowers and whispering my name?”
    “I might,” she heard herself say, “if I knew which were moonflowers.”
    This made Mr. Riley laugh so hard she feared he’d topple off his stool. Aidan only smiled, served his pints, took the coin. Then he leaned close, watched her eyes go wide andher lips tremble apart in surprise. “I’ll point out the moonflowers for you, the next I come to call.”
    “Well. Hmmm.” So much for snappy repartee, she decided, and gulped down some wine.
    Either the wine, or the intimacy of the look he sent her, went straight to her head. She decided she would have to approach both with a bit more caution and respect. This time when Aidan lifted the bottle, she shook her head and put her hand over her glass.
    “No, thanks. I’ll just have water now.”
    “You want the fizzy sort?”
    “Fizzy? Oh, yes, that would be nice.”
    He brought it to her in a short glass with no ice to speak of. She sipped it, watching as he set two more glasses under taps and began the methodical process of building a Guinness.
    “It takes an awfully long time,” she said more to herself than him, but he glanced over, one hand still maneuvering the taps.
    “Only as long as it takes to make it right. One day, when you’re in the mood for it, I’ll build you a glass and you’ll see what you’re missing by sipping that French business there.”
    Darcy swung back to the bar, set down her tray. “A pint and a half, Smithwick, pint of Guinness