The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy

rubbery grin.
    “You’re all right, young Magee. You’re all right. Since you are, I’ll tell you this. That lovely lass inside Gallagher’s won’t settle for less in a man than hot blood, a strong backbone, and a clever brain. I’m considering you have all three.”
    Trevor handed Riley back his cup. “I’m just here to build a theater.”
    “If that’s the truth, then I’ll say this as well: It goes that youth is wasted on the young, but I’m of a mind that the young waste youth.” He poured another cup of tea. “And I’ll just have to marry her meself.” Amusement danced in his eyes as he sipped. “Step lively, boyo, for I’ve a world of experience with the female of the species.”
    “I’ll keep that in mind.” Trevor got to his feet. “What did John Magee do before he went to war?”
    “For a living, you’re meaning.” If Riley thought it was odd that Trevor wouldn’t know he didn’t say so. “He was for the sea. His heart belonged to it, and to Maude, and to nothing else.”
    Trevor nodded. “Thanks for the tea,” he said and went back to join his crew.

He skipped lunch. There were too many calls to make, faxes expected, to take time for an hour in the pub and his afternoon dose of Darcy. He hoped she looked for him, wondered a little. If he understood her as he thought he did, she would expect him to come in, to have to come And it would annoy her when he didn’t.
    Good, Trevor mused as he let himself into the cottage. He wanted to keep her a little off-balance. That careless confidence of hers was a formidable weapon. Her arrogance played right along with it. And damned if he didn’t find them both attractive.
    Amused at himself, he went directly up to his office and spent thirty minutes immersed in business. It was one of his skills, this ability to tune out every other thought and zero in on the deal of the moment. With Riley’s memories fresh in his own mind, and Darcy dancing at the edges of it, he needed that skill now more than ever.
    Once current projects were handled, faxes zipped off, E-mail answered and sent, he gave his thoughts to a future project he was formulating.
    Time, he thought, to lay the groundwork. Picking up the phone, he called Gallagher’s. He was pleased that Aidan answered. Trevor made it a point to go straight to the head of a company. Or in this case, a family.
    “It’s Trev.”
    “Well, now, I thought I’d see you sitting at one of my tables by this time of day.”
    Aidan raised his voice over the lunchtime clatter, and Trevor imagined him pulling pints one-handed while he talked. In the background he heard Darcy’s laugh.
    “I had some business to do. I’d like to have a meeting with you and your family, when it’s convenient for you.”
    “A meeting? About the theater?”
    “Partly. Do you have an hour to spare, maybe between shifts?”
    “Oh, I imagine we can accommodate you. Today?”
    “Sooner the better.”
    “Fine. Come on by the house then. We tend to hold our family meetings ’round the kitchen table.”
    “I appreciate it. Would you ask Brenna to come by?”
    “I will, yes.” Taking her off the job, Aidan thought, but made no comment. “I’ll see you a bit later, then.”
    Around the kitchen table. Trevor recalled several of his own family meetings in the same venue. Before his first day of school, when he was going off to baseball camp, about to take his driver’s test, and so on. All of his rites of passage, and his sister’s, had been discussed there. Serious punishments, serious praise had warranted the kitchen table.
    Odd, he remembered now, when he had broken his engagement, he’d told his parents as they sat in the kitchen. That’s where he’d told them of his plans for the Ardmore theater, and his intention of coming to Ireland.
    And, he realized as he calculated the time in New York, that was where his parents most likely were at this moment. He picked up the phone again and called home.
    “Good morning, Magee residence.”
    “Hello, Rhonda, it’s Trev.”
    “Mister Trevor.” The Magee housekeeper had never called him anything else, even when she’d threatened to swat him. “How are you enjoying Ireland?”
    “Very much. Did you get my postcard?”
    “I did. You know how much I love to get them. I was telling Cook just yesterday that Mister Trevor never forgets how I like postcards for my album. Is it as green as that, really?”
    “Greener. You should come over, Rhonda.”
    “Oh, now you