Emilie Richards - The Parting Glass

Josh’s pale cheeks grew red. “I gotta go. Winston’s gonna make sure it gets done right and stuff. I gotta go home in case Nick notices—”

Peggy waved him away. “You go on. I’ll face the music alone.”

Josh looked properly grateful and took off, skirting Peggy’s older sister by ducking behind the back row of cars. Plastic bags and newspaper from somebody’s blown-over garbage can skittered across the lot in his wake.

Casey Donaghue Kovats came up beside Peggy and stood for a moment watching the group of adolescents tape strings of firecrackers to the back bumper of Niccolo Andreani’s car. The silver Civic was parked close to the back door of the saloon so that it would be out of sight from the road.

“You’re letting those kids tape fireworks to the bumper? You worked in an emergency room. You know how dangerous those things are.”

“No ‘Hi, how are you, isn’t this a windy day’?”

“Peggy, have you lost your mind?”

“Fireworks are dangerous. These are firecrackers, and they’re only slightly higher-tech than tin cans and old shoes.”

“Megan’s going to have a fit.”

“I certainly hope so. We’ve gone to a lot of trouble.” Peggy motioned to one youth, a handsome young African-American with meticulously divided cornrows and a roll of duct tape adorning one arm. “Winston, will you please reassure Casey that Nick’s car won’t blow up?”

Winston abandoned his supervisory post to join the two sisters. “Yo, Ms. K. Nothing gonna happen here but a little noise.”

Casey still didn’t look convinced. “I have great faith in your abilities, Winston, really I do, but what if—and I know this is a remote possibility—you’re wrong?”

“Can’t be wrong. We tried it out yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” Peggy was intrigued. This was new information.

“Yeah, at some wedding. Somebody got married down at the Baptist church.”

“Somebody you know?”

Winston shrugged. “Learned a lot. Like don’t put balloons and firecrackers on the same bumper, unless you want a real mess.”

Peggy tried not to smile. “See? I told you we were in the hands of a master.”

Winston escaped back to his job as Casey rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe Nick had the bad judgment to leave his car at the saloon in the first place,” Casey said.

“He didn’t. Josh delivered it half an hour ago. Nick doesn’t know it’s gone.”

“Then how’s he getting to the church?”

“I thought he could walk. He’s only a few blocks away.”

A gust of wind pushed Peggy against Casey’s hip and made nonsense of that plan. The sky was growing steadily darker, and the wind was accelerating. That morning the official forecast for the spring day had been breezy, with the slight possibility of a shower. But this was Cleveland. Weather was the only guarantee. The particulars were in the hands of God.

“I’d give him my car, but I don’t have a car anymore,” Peggy said.

“You need to remind me you’re moving halfway around the world tomorrow? Like it’s not on my mind?”

Peggy ignored her. “Jon can drive Nick to the church. Will you call him and ask?”

Jon was Casey’s husband of just a year and nearly always willing to lend a hand. “I guess he won’t mind. At least he won’t get blown off the road in this wind. Jon can take care of himself.” Casey smiled. Peggy had noticed that Casey did a lot of that these days. Grinned when she had reason to, smiled mysteriously when she didn’t. Marriage agreed with her.

More than two years had passed since Peggy and Casey had come home to Cleveland, lost souls looking for a place to hide. Now Peggy was the mother of a son, Casey was married to her best friend, and Megan, who ran the family saloon, was about to celebrate her own wedding.

Of course, what sounded like a trio of happily-ever-afters wasn’t. Not quite. Each sister still faced considerable hurdles, but Peggy didn’t want to think about her own. Not for the moment. Today was Megan’s day.

“Remember the last time we stood around the parking lot like this?” Casey said, as if she knew what was going through Peggy’s mind. Both Peggy’s sisters had consistently read her thoughts since the day she was old enough to have any.

“We were at gunpoint,” Peggy said. “And Niccolo walked by and saved us. Now he’s about to marry our sister. Odd how things happen, isn’t it?”

“I peeked inside. I can’t believe what they’ve done, can you?”

“They” was the Donaghue family—and everyone in Cleveland who was related to them or wanted to be. A veritable horde of friends and family had descended that morning to scrub and decorate the saloon where Megan and Niccolo’s reception would be held after the ceremony at St. Brigid’s.

Peggy checked her watch. “I still have a million things to do before Kieran wakes up.” The atomic clock had nothing on Peggy’s toddler son for keeping life precisely on schedule.

“You’re still planning to leave him upstairs with a baby-sitter?”

“He’ll be happier. Everybody will be happier.”

“The old place looks great. The way it did when we were kids and Mom was in charge of family wedding receptions. Megan’s going to love it.”

Peggy knew better. Someday Megan, their oldest sister, would look back at this day with appreciation, even nostalgia. But today she wouldn’t notice a thing. If all the signs were correct, Megan was going to walk through her own wedding ceremony and reception like a newly sentenced prisoner on her way to serving a lifetime behind bars.

Casey grinned. “Okay, maybe she’s going to be a little jittery, and maybe she won’t notice every little detail….”

“Come on, we’ll be lucky if she’s only comatose. I don’t understand why she and Nick didn’t elope.”

“She didn’t want to set that kind of example.”

“For who?” Peggy realized “who” the moment she asked the question. “For me? Megan was afraid if she eloped, I’d copy her someday?”

“I think that’s part of it.”

“Unbelievable.”

“And I think Nick wanted a real wedding,” Casey added, before Peggy could expound. “He wanted his kids to witness it. They take a lot of interest in this kind of thing, even though they’ll never admit it.”

The kids Casey referred to were a large group of teens and pre-teens, including those who were so relentlessly decorating Niccolo’s car. Altogether there were more than a dozen verging-on-delinquent and occasionally endearing adolescents who were part of an organization called One Brick at a Time. Niccolo Andreani was the director, founder and jack-of-all-trades who ran it.

“So Megan’s doing this wedding for everybody else?” Peggy said.

“She won’t talk about it, so I’m just guessing. But you know she’s been a wreck ever since she agreed to marry Nick. She adores him, so it can’t be regret. I just think she hates being the center of attention. She’s happiest when she’s running everybody else’s lives from the sidelines.”

“Well, it’s about time she had her day, whether she wants it or not.” Peggy glanced at her watch. It was ten, and the wedding was at one. “What’s on your list for the rest of the morning?”

“About a million things before I help Megan dress, including a hair appointment.”

“Well, I have about a dozen more on mine. Then I have to get dressed, get Kieran set up—”

“And pack.”

“I have everything ready to go. Aunt Dee came and got our suitcases early this morning, so I can clean up tonight after the reception and they won’t be in the way. Megan’s already advertising the apartment.” Peggy tried to stave off further discussion of her impending departure. There had been dozens of such conversations, all of them fruitless, since she had announced she was moving to Ireland for a year. “Right now I’d better get busy. Because Kieran really is due to wake up—”