Whiskey Island (24 page)

They stared at each other, eyes narrowed. Casey was the first to look away. “All I ever wanted was to leave our childhood behind.”

“You can’t.”

“Don’t you think I’ve figured that out? Why do you think I finally came home?”

“I’d like to know.”

“I thought if we sold the saloon, everything that had happened would disappear. We’d be new people. We could reinvent ourselves. Without the saloon, Rooney wouldn’t exist anymore. I was a kid. I lost sight of everything else this place represents.” She met Megan’s eyes. “Ties to the past. Ties to the future. Ties to each other.”

Megan’s expression softened. “I was wrong, too. I wanted to run your life.”

Casey smiled a little. “You still do.”

“Luckily, you won’t let me.”

“I don’t know. Maybe if you
had
been running it, I wouldn’t have screwed up so many times.”

“And you wouldn’t have learned a thing.”

“Look, that’s behind us now. From here on in, I don’t want to be kept in the dark about anything. Do you understand? Promise me that the minute you hear anything about Rooney, you’ll let me know.”

“All right, but right now he seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth again. I really am sorry. I guess…” Megan shook her head.

“You guess it’s too much to handle?”

“I’m handling it just fine, thank you, but that doesn’t mean that I always know what to do. I’m not perfect.”

Casey put a hand over her heart. “You’re kidding.”

Megan’s eyes were slits. “For instance,
I
don’t know what to do next. Do you?”

“I know what to do about the bar. I’ll take Barry’s place tonight. You can help Artie with the pierogies or get ready for tomorrow. You can even take a break.”

“There are too many things to do.”

“You don’t have plans with Nick?”

Megan’s expression was inscrutable. “What makes you think I might?”

“I’m under the impression you’ve been spending time together.”

“I wanted him to show me where he’d found the snapshot. That’s all.”

“Then you won’t be seeing him again?”

Megan didn’t answer.

“Not ever?”

“What are you trying to do, Casey?”

“Promote romance, weddings and happily ever afters.”

“He was a priest.”

Casey was as surprised as if Megan had told her Niccolo used to be a hit man.

“Not that that has anything to do with anything,” Megan continued.

“Then why’d you tell me?”

Megan shrugged.

“Because you realize he’s not somebody to fool around with? That he takes certain things seriously?”

“There are disadvantages to having sisters.”

Casey thought of Jon, another serious man with a past. Only his quirk wasn’t loving God, it was caring too much about her. Or thinking that he did.

“I’m going to chop onions,” Megan said. “I ordered sixteen dozen extra pierogies. With this break in the weather, I’m expecting a crowd tonight. You’re sure you’ll be okay behind the bar?” The weather had turned warmer, and people who had been hibernating all winter were suddenly everywhere.

“Don’t worry. I’ll see if Peggy wants to help out. Ashley’s sleeping over at a friend’s house tonight, a birthday party, so we don’t have to worry about keeping an eye on her.”

“I’m glad to see you’re letting her go.”

“She’s got a lot to cope with just being away from her mom, and I like to keep a close eye on her.”

“What’s going on with her mother, anyway? Is she almost ready to take Ashley back?”

Casey didn’t blink. “I heard from her a couple of days ago. Things are going all right. She has a lead on a place to live, but she has to save money first. Right now she’s sleeping on a friend’s sofa, and there’s no place there for Ashley. We both think Ashley will be better off with me until things are all settled.”

“How well do you know this woman? Do you think she really intends to send for Ashley?”

“I can vouch for her one hundred percent. She’d do anything for her daughter, including being separated from her, if that’s what’s best for the moment.”

Megan still looked skeptical, but she shrugged. “I’ll let you know what I hear from Barry.”

“Tell him I’m thinking about him.”

Megan disappeared the way she’d come. Casey thought about the long night of work ahead and wished it was already tomorrow. But maybe, if she was lucky, the time would fly. She wouldn’t have time to consider her future. She wouldn’t have to think about the mistakes she’d made or the derailed train that passed for her life. She wouldn’t have to think about the little girl temporarily in her care or the little girl’s mother. She could keep her demons at bay if she simply kept busy enough.

As if on command, Peggy came downstairs with Ashley in tow. The little girl looked adorable in a blue velour sweatshirt that Casey had found at a nearly new shop, along with all the other clothes in the child’s dresser drawer. She carried a Little Mermaid backpack from the same store, no longer quite the thing but treasured by Ashley.

“You look so pretty,” Casey told her. “And you look like you’re expecting to have a very good time.”

Ashley, dark hair in pigtails and blue eyes as wide as Lake Erie, didn’t respond.

“Look, I
promise
you’re going to have fun.” Casey glanced up at her sister. “I just think the Kincaids are brave for taking three little girls for the night. I bet nobody gets much sleep.”

“Do you remember the time I wanted to have a sleepover and nobody’s mothers would let them spend the night over a saloon? So Megan rented a hotel suite?”

“Right. And you almost got us kicked out for keeping the other hotel guests awake until four in the morning.”

“That was Megan’s fault. She decided to demonstrate Morse code by pounding messages on the floor.”

“Megan was always a great believer in educational games.” Casey addressed Ashley. “Do you have your present for Kathleen?”

Ashley nodded solemnly.

“Did you tell Peggy what you got her?”

Ashley was almost trapped into speaking, but not quite. She rummaged in the backpack and pulled out a present wrapped in bright gold-and-blue paper, balancing it in the palm of her hand.

Peggy started to compliment the little girl on the wrappings, but Casey refused to play along. “And what’s inside, Ashley?”

“A book.”

“Which one? Peggy loves to read.”

“LittleHouseonthePrairie.”
It came out as one word, as if Ashley was afraid to get caught speaking an entire phrase.

Peggy hadn’t quite mastered not asking yes or no questions. “Good choice. Is that one of your favorites?”

Ashley nodded.

Casey hadn’t been surprised at the little girl’s selection, although the book was usually enjoyed by older children. She knew that Ashley’s mother had read to her daughter frequently. Now the simple life of Laura Ingalls Wilder and her family must be enormously attractive to the little girl, whose own experiences were so different.

Casey slid the gift back into the backpack. “We’re a little shorthanded right now. I’m going to have to wait just a bit before I can run you over to the party.”

“I’ll take her,” Peggy offered. “I don’t have any other plans.”

“Terrific, but I nearly forgot. Would you be able to help out tonight? Barry can’t come in, and I’m not as quick behind the bar. Megan thinks we’ll get slammed, and we could use an extra pair of hands.”

“No problem. I’ll be back as soon as Ashley’s settled.”

Casey hugged her sister’s shoulders and gave her directions to the Kincaids’. “Ashley, have a wonderful time.”

Ashley didn’t smile. She started for the door as if this was one more of life’s little trials she would have to get through. Casey’s throat grew tight watching her.

Ten minutes later, with everything wiped down and prepared for the onslaught, Casey returned from a quick trip to the back room to find Jon behind the bar. Her favorite customer, Charlie Ford, was sitting across from him, and Jon was pulling a pint of Guinness.

“Whoa there.” She rounded the bar like a border collie culling the herd. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“Say hello to Charlie, Casey.”

Her face was stern, although she was fighting a smile. “Charlie, did you put him up to this?”

“Hell, I tried to restrain him. Does he know what he’s doing?”

Jon looked mystified. “How hard can it be? I stick a glass under the spout, I pull the handle. You have your drink. Right?”

Casey had tried not to look at Jon directly, but she’d seen enough to know he was dressed in dark trousers and a forest-green sports shirt that deepened his hazel eyes. “Wrong. He’ll destroy our reputation, won’t he, Charlie?”

“Or a good pint of Guinness, which is worse.” Charlie’s dark eyes were dancing. This might very well be the highlight of his day.

Jon was having fun, too. “You mean there’s more to it? An Irish prayer I’m supposed to mutter? ‘May the wind be at your back…’ That sort of thing?”

“Move aside, Kovats. You need a lesson.” Casey bumped him with her hip and decided she’d enjoyed it too much. She did it again. “Off you go. Now, watch closely.”

She set aside the glass he’d been trying to fill and picked up another. “We don’t chill the glass.”

“I didn’t.”

“Pay attention. There’ll be a quiz.”

“High school all over again.”

“We don’t chill the glass. This isn’t a yuppie brew pub. They don’t chill the glass in Ireland, and we don’t tamper with perfection at Whiskey Island. We do chill the Guinness. We try to keep it around 42 degrees. The days of warm Guinness are over, even in the old country.”

“Should I write that down?”

“Just try hard to keep it in your head.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“This is a job for a man with patience. Do you have patience, Jon?”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

She was surprised to feel her cheeks heating. She wasn’t a woman who blushed, despite the color of her hair. “We fill the glass about three-quarters full.” She demonstrated, tilting the glass so that the stream of Guinness hit the side, and, with a practiced eye, stopping at exactly the right spot. “And now we wait.”

“Why?”

“Because it has to settle before we top it off.”

“Wait how long?”

She faced him, but not before she saw the glee on Charlie’s face. “A minute or two.”

“Do you know what you can accomplish in a minute?”

“Yeah, I can talk to Charlie here and find out about his day.” She turned back to the old man. “How’s it going, Charlie?”

“Can’t complain. Read the paper. Did the crossword. Took my old mutt for a walk.”

“Sammy, right? How is Sammy, anyway?”

“Getting old, just like me. He sleeps more’n I do, but he still likes his walk. And he’ll fetch a tennis ball when the grandkids come.”

“And how are the grandkids?”

“Too damned far away. But I’m going east to see them come St. Paddy’s Day.”

“No…You won’t be here? Whiskey Island can’t have a St. Paddy’s Day without you.”

“You’ll have to this year, I guess. But I’ll be back. Too damned many people living in New York City.”

“That’s the truth.”

She turned back to Jon. “Still paying attention?”

His expression was warm. “It’s only been thirty seconds.”

“You’re counting?”

“I’m a good student.”

“Now we wander back to the kitchen and shout at Megan. Or we wipe down the bar again, or fill another couple of glasses and let them sit or—”

“I get the picture.”

Charlie chortled. “You thinking of making this fellow an honorary bartender? What happened to Barry?”

By the time she’d explained Barry’s situation, the time was up.

She picked up the lecture where she’d left off. “Okay, here’s the next step. We’re going for an inch head, maybe a little less. And we want it to slide over the side just a bit, without spilling.”

“Slide, don’t spill.”

She demonstrated. There was no Guinness in the city poured more expertly than hers, not even Barry’s. She could win contests. Rooney himself had taught her the finer points.

“Here you go.” She placed the glass in front of Charlie.

Jon tilted his head to view it better. “After all that waiting, he ought to get a parasol.”

“Sissy drinks,” Charlie scoffed.

They moved off down the bar to leave Charlie to contemplate his perfect pint. “Think you could draw one now?” Casey said.

“With my eyes closed.” Jon’s smile was warm. “Well, maybe not.”

“A little humility is a fine thing indeed.” Casey leaned against the bar, arms folded. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah. I think it is.”

“Good. Then maybe you’ll let me buy you dinner.”

“Kind of last minute, isn’t it?”

“Sorry, but I had a meeting that was canceled about an hour ago.”

“With some cute little blonde?”

“No, with an overweight police detective named Joe.”

“Not that Whiskey Island thing again?” she asked, as casually as she could.

“No. A murder. I’d rather not serve up dead bodies along with good pizza, but it was the only time we could get together. And now that’s shot.”

“D.A. humor?”

“You have plans?”

“Afraid so. I have a hot date at the saloon tonight. Just me and all the guys who come in for a taste of my Guinness.”

He looked disappointed. “Nobody else could replace Barry, huh?”

She wasn’t sure what possessed her. “Stay for pierogies. I don’t know if Barry will make it in. Depends on what the doctor says. But if he does, I can probably slip out later. And if not, at least we’ll see each other between rounds.”

“I won’t make you nervous hanging around?”

“You’re kidding.”

“I could cramp your style.”

“I have no style when I’m behind the bar. Style is an invitation I don’t issue.”

“Maybe I will stay, then.”

Peggy returned, and Casey motioned for her to come over and say hello to Jon.

“Nice to see you again,” Peggy greeted him. She turned her attention to Casey. “Well, I dropped her off, but she wasn’t happy to be there.”

“Ashley,” Casey explained, since Jon was listening in. “She’s at a sleepover.”