Page 11 of Calling on the Matchmaker
“It’s possible.” His campaign staff had already told him that. “But that seems like a shallow reason to take a wife.”
With the death of the mayor last month, a special mayoral election was being held in April. With Riley’s widespread fame, some of the local Irish leaders had convinced him to run for office.
After the past few weeks, the grassroots campaigning had taken off, and he was gaining ground, even among the rest of the St. Louis non-Irish population. But his campaign manager, Father O’Kirwin, insisted he needed to be doing more, including getting married.
Dad closed his eyes, the exchange clearly making him weary. But in the next moment, he opened them and spoke again, this time more forcefully. “If you want me to rest in peace, then you’ll do this for me, son.”
William Rafferty could be persuasive when he wanted to be. The man hadn’t earned the reputation as the best wagonmaker in St. Louis based on skill alone. He was also smart and confident and tough.
As his dad held his gaze, Riley knew he had no choice but to go along with the wishes. How could he deny a dying man his last request?
He couldn’t. That’s what. “If you really want me to—”
“Lorette?” Dad pushed up to his elbows with a sudden burst of energy. “Send for Oscar McKenna.”
“The matchmaker?” Riley straightened in surprise.
Lorette took a step toward the door but then paused. “Now?”
Dad nodded. “Immediately. Tell Oscar this is urgent.”
“Hold on.” Riley held up a warning hand. “Not so fast—”
“Now, Lorette.” Dad’s tone was strong and sure.
Riley wanted to continue to protest, but if the matchmaking mission would give Dad renewed motivation to fight for life, then he couldn’t object.
As Lorette exited, Riley reclined in his chair. Yes, he’d dojust about anything for his dad. It’s partly why he’d run for mayor. He wanted to make his dad proud. And if taking a wife would please his dad and the constituents, then he had to set aside his objections and his fears and give the idea a chance.
Dad fell asleep again, and Riley couldn’t keep from hoping the next time his dad roused that he would forget all about the matchmaking. When the room door opened an hour later with a breathless and flushed Lorette followed by Bellamy McKenna—and not Oscar—Riley let himself relax.
He didn’t have anything to worry about. Even if his dad did persist with the marriage planning, without Oscar present, they wouldn’t be able to make any solid arrangements.
Lorette made quick work of pulling the extra chair around the bed so it was positioned next to Riley. Shyly, she offered it to Bellamy, her cheeks still pink.
Riley narrowed his eyes at Bellamy, who was shrugging out of his coat and unwinding a scarf from his neck. The man had better not toy with Lorette. She was too young to court.
Bellamy didn’t seem to be paying any attention to Lorette. Maybe she was the one with the fascination, and maybe Riley needed to make sure she wasn’t getting any notions about marriage yet. After all, he would soon be the man of the house, and he’d have the responsibility of helping his sisters find advantageous matches.
“Thank you, Lorette. You may go.” Riley offered her a smile to soften his dismissal.
She hesitated but a moment before she nodded and left the room.
Once he was alone with Bellamy, Riley shifted in his chair to face the fellow. Though the draperies were still pulled and the room dismal, they had enough natural light to see. “Look, Bellamy, this is my dad’s idea—”
“Where’s Oscar?” His dad’s question was weak and breathlessagain. But his eyes were wide open, and he was staring at Bellamy expectantly.
Bellamy gave his dad a nod of greeting. “Oscar has the philosophy that one can never drink too much Irish whiskey.”
“And ...?”
“And as a result, he rarely works when the sun is shining so brightly.” Bellamy spoke with the seriousness of a priest delivering a soliloquy at mass. But from the glint in his eyes, Riley guessed he had a sense of blarney that rivaled the best.
“Didn’t Lorette explain that I’m dying?” Dad studied Bellamy’s face like he was a riddle that needed solving.
“Your daughter made your wishes clear, so she did. But I’ll be telling you the same thing I told her. That if you want a matchmaker’s services in the morn, then you’ll not be seeing Oscar Fingal McKenna. You’ll have to make do with the matchmaker’s son instead.”
Dad’s lashes fell, but not before he could hide his disappointment that he hadn’t been able to enlist Oscar’s services.
