Page 1 of Irish Fire and Forbidden Love
Chapter 1
Maeve
It waslate Saturday night at the Anchoring Pig, my lively bar in the heart of Galway, Ireland. I’d been in the middle of serving two American tourists when my bartender of ten years, Eliza, set the phone in my hands.
“It’s your sister,” she said.
Since my family lived in Texas and I managed the bar full time, we rarely had time to chat, so it was a pleasant surprise to hear Maddy on the other line.
“Hey, Maeve,” she said.
There was a long pause, one that was swallowed up by the clatter of patrons, but when Maddy spoke again her words were muffled by the guitarist strumming so loud that it drowned out even the loudest voice.
“Will you hold on? I can’t hear you.”
I looked at Eliza, who was pouring the pint I’d forgotten about. Eliza was as integral to the place as its weathered wooden beams. She wasn’t just my employee; she was my best friend. We’d known each other since I opened this place five years ago, and in that time, we’d learned how to communicate without words. She gave me a nod, and that was enough permission for me to disappear in the back.
“Hey, what’s going on?” I said, closing the door to my office.
“Yeah, um… look, I know that you really care about your bar, but dad and I are going to sell. We found a buyer?—”
“A buyer?” I repeated, though I shouldn’t have been surprised. I knew this day would come eventually. The pub was mine— heart and soul. But technically my sister and dad owned half the shares. It was the only way I could actually buy this place, and I’d always convinced myself that I’d buy them out of their half, but I still had a long way to go—about fifty thousand dollars’ worth.
“No one’s telling you that you should sell, but if you did…”
“I’m not selling,” I said, though I knew full well what would happen if they sold and I didn’t. I’d be stuck with some suave businessperson, who thought they knew better than me. It happened to Old Bill down the road. He’d sold just thirty percent of his shares, and there had been so much contention that he’d eventually sold everything just to get out from under them. At least my family had given me the autonomy I had desperately craved, and now that was being pulled right out from under me.
“Maeve…” Maddy said.
“I need just a little more time. I told you that I’d pay you guys back.”
“Yeah, but dad needs the money now. He’s got serious debts, Maeve.” In a lower voice, she said, “He’s been gambling again, and it’s not going well. He’s about to lose his house.”
Her words were a punch in the gut, forcing me back into my chair. It was one thing to deal with our dad’s gambling addiction when we were kids. Back when everyone’s attention was focused on our mom’s cancer, but here? Now?
“I thought he promised he’d stop.”
“Apparently, he never did.” She let that sink in for a moment then said, “Anyway, I’m sorry. I’m sure dad is, too. That barmeans everything to you, but it’s just our shares we’re selling. Please understand?—”
“I can pay you both back— plus some. I just need more time.”
“No, Maeve.” She gave another, longer sigh, and I could imagine her pinching the bridge of her nose. “We’ve got a buyer now. We’ve already figured it out. Look, I got to go, okay? I love you.”
I wanted to keep arguing, but I stopped myself. “Love you,” then listened to her hang up before I lowered the phone.
Our dad had promised he wouldn’t get back into gambling. He’d gotten lucky with our mom. He’d managed to make back all the money we’d lost from her chemo, plus some, but there had been scares. And it was through those scares he’d finally thrown in the towel, or so we’d thought.
I didn’t know how long it was that I’d sat in that chair, staring at the closed door, listening to the raucous voices and the music outside, but it was long enough that there came a knock. Then Eliza poked her head inside.
“Everything okay?”
My first reaction was to shut down. To push her away, just like I’d done whenever anyone asked about my mom— and there’d been plenty of people. My friends, teachers, school counselor. We spent two years in and out of hospitals while my mom battled with a malignant tumor in her right breast, and I never spoke about it. I pushed people away until my mom died, and then it felt too late to reach out to anyone.
But that was over two decades ago, and since then, I’d spoken up more. I’d let people in my life, including Eliza. I could let her in about this, too.
“My family wants to sell.”
“Oh,” Eliza said, falling back against the wall. She didn’t say anything for a moment, instead she let her forehead wrinkle. Finally, she said, “So, you’re going to sell?”
