Emilie Richards - The Parting Glass

Megan rarely cried. Now her throat felt tight. She didn’t want to accept help. Sure, the Whiskey Island Saloon was a family icon, and the Donaghue clan were her family. But none of them profited from it. For years she had run it, and they had enjoyed it. The system had worked perfectly, with no grumbling. Relatives played at tending bar and helping in the kitchen; then they went home at night to their other lives. The saloon was a hobby, a welcome family link. She didn’t want the system to change.

“Uncle Frank and Aunt Deirdre will foot the whole bill,” Casey said. “He already gave me a check.”

“Tear it up.” Megan swallowed tears. She couldn’t cry. There was too much to do.

“He did it gladly, you know he did.”

“He’s a gem. I love him. I love them all. But we can’t make this a family enterprise, Casey. It’s too dangerous. Too many hotheads and firm opinions, and rambling lectures on tradition vs. modernization.”

Casey didn’t argue. Megan knew she agreed.

“So the other options?” Casey said at last.

The kitchen door slammed, and the two women looked at each other.

“Megan?”

Megan couldn’t believe it. “Nick?”

He came through the kitchen door into the saloon. “Surprise.”

“Nick!” She was so thrilled to see him that she forgot her dignity. She ran to him, falling into his arms as if she hadn’t seen him for weeks. “What happened? Why are you back so soon?”

“Anxiety attack,” Nick said. “And not mine. Mama’s. Mama wasn’t dealing with our wedding quite as well as we all thought.” He held her away and grinned. “We’ve had a little talk, Mama and me. She’s on the road to recovery.”

“You’re kidding!”

“It was real. She’s not given to hysterics. Just too much change in her orderly life. But she’ll cope. She’s humiliated. Next time she’ll die of a heart attack before she tells anybody she has pains in her chest. And she’s going to take up yoga. My mother in the lotus position. I’ve demanded photographs.”

“Poor woman,” Casey said. “I actually liked your mother, Nick, even if she spent most of our time together telling me about the day you were ordained.”

“You’re okay?” Niccolo asked Megan. “The drive back went okay?”

“It was lonely.” She smiled up at him; then she sobered. “Nick, Casey has bad news.”

“Jon already told him,” Casey said. “He thought Nick should be warned.”

“Why? So he’d be prepared to come home to a basket case?” She tempered the words with all the smile she could manage. “Listen, you two, I’ll cope. Maybe I’ll take up yoga, too. I’m going to find a way around this, even if I have to do the damned repairs myself. And I could, you know. If I had to.”

“You don’t,” Niccolo said.

“You know, I should leave,” Casey said. “You’re invited for dinner tonight. I’ll see you two then. You can fill me—”

“No, I want you to hear this, too,” Niccolo said.

Casey waited.

“Megan, since Mama was fine, I used the trip to Pittsburgh to spend some time with Marco.”

Clearly Niccolo was on his way to being accepted back into the heart of the family, and that pleased Megan very much. She wanted Niccolo to be happy.

“I’m delighted.” She didn’t know what else was called for.

“It was like old times. But that’s not my whole point. We talked about the saloon.”

She wondered if Marco disapproved of Niccolo’s new wife working as a saloon keeper. He was a traditional male. His wife, Carrie, stayed home with their two children and cooked. And cooked. Megan wished she could hire her.

“Marco has the contracting skills that I don’t,” Niccolo continued. “I could never tackle the repairs here alone, particularly if we expand the project and make the changes we need to.”

Megan felt her mind slowing. She was afraid to let it move forward, afraid she might be wrong.

“But Marco could do this job with his hands tied behind his back. Problem is, he has to pay a crew, and even if he could bring them here and house them for free, with union wages and building supplies, we’d be out of our range again.”

“And he couldn’t get his crew over here, anyway,” Megan said. “Why would they want to come to Cleveland?”

“No, but with Marco and me doing the work with the Brick kids and occasionally a temporary crew, we can do it for the insurance settlement, Megan. We went over and over the figures last night. I had Jon fax me all the estimates we’d already gotten, the plans I drew up for the changes you want. It’s doable.”

“But why would Marco come and do this? He has a business to run. Can he be away that long?”

“He’ll go home as often as he can. In the meantime—and get this—Carrie’s going to run his business.”

Megan stared at him. “Carrie? Of the fabulous parsley pesto sauce? Of the sun-dried tomato ravioli?”

“She’s been answering his telephones, printing up his bills, making calls to the lumberyard and supply houses for years. She’s even bossed the crew a time or two when he was sick. Marco says she can do it. He’ll go back and forth. It’s not that long a drive. A couple of days here, several days there.”

“Why?”

Niccolo smiled. “Because he’s my brother.”

Megan couldn’t believe her good luck. Casey could, though. She came over to hug them both. “This is so great! Now you can get everything you want, Megan. Expanded kitchen, a redesigned space behind the bar. And if you have to take money from the family, it will only be a little.”

“I might borrow,” Megan said. “And pay them back with interest.” With her current rush of goodwill, depleting their bank accounts seemed like the least she could do.

“Then it’s a deal?” he said.

“Of course it’s a deal!” She hugged him. She hugged Casey. “Thank you so much for coming up with this. I can’t believe it!”

“We’ll be slower than professionals,” Niccolo warned her. “It won’t get done overnight.”

“I don’t care. Just get it done. I’ll help. I’m good at this stuff.”

“You are.” He touched her hair. “Good at everything you do.”

Casey broke away. “That’s too much sweetness and light for me. Ever since you saw the Virgin in the tunnel, folks, it’s been like an episode of ‘Touched By An Angel’ around here. Gag me.”

“A couple more people want to see the Virgin,” Niccolo said. “Marco, for one. How would you feel if I took him through the tunnel, Megan?”

She was feeling much too fabulous to worry about anything so inconsequential. In fact, she was feeling so kindly toward Marco that she would scrape the image off the wall and give it to him for Christmas if he asked for it.

“The more the merrier.” Her smile was so broad it threatened to permanently stretch her cheeks. “I’m becoming a believer in miracles myself. Light candles, burn incense, make novenas. I don’t care.”

“I’m heading home before you start the Gregorian chants,” Casey said. “The invitation stands. You two come for dinner tonight.”

Niccolo looked at Megan. Megan looked at Niccolo. Casey looked at both of them.

“Another time,” Casey countered. “I know that look when I see it.”

“Thanks. And you can look after Rooney another night?”

“Not a problem. And Josh will hold the fort at your house. What hotel are you going to?”

“That would be none of your business.”

Bridie had an insatiable need to connect with people, and Kieran had as strong a need to keep them at bay. Yet the two children were fascinated by each other. She was an intelligent girl, with problem-solving abilities far advanced for her age. She saw Kieran’s desires and needs as puzzles to assemble so that, in the end, the picture that emerged would please everyone. She didn’t gush, and she didn’t ask for more than he would give. She seemed to have no need for hugs or kisses. When he shouted “hi” in her direction, she took it as her due. When he threw himself on the floor in an exhausted temper tantrum, she raised her slight shoulders as if to say “I warned you he was reaching his limit.”