Page 15 of Beside Golden Irish Fields
They both shrugged incredulously, which only made the Lucky Charms utter aggrieved sighs.
When Liam brought over a tray of whiskey glasses, Gavin filled the first one and handed it to Angie. “To the one who’s tortured in love. You’re already half Irish. Then you must be the widow.”
“Yes,” Megan said, clearing her throat.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Gavin said, gazing at her in an earnest way that bolstered Angie’s impression that he was a good bartender/confessor.
“We all are,” Killian said as the women murmured their agreement. “Losing love tragically at a young age is also Irish. It’s like you two were meant to come all along. Here, have a drink.”
Megan declined as expected. Angie didn’t. The first whiskey gave a nice burn going down, as did the next one. Her body started to unwind, and she found a comfortable seat in the sun on the window seat in Bets’ massive front parlor. Megan took Ollie and herself off to the bathroom.
Then someone put on Bon Jovi’s “Livin’ on a Prayer,” courtesy of Bets’ portable stereo sitting on the biggest sideboard Angie had ever laid eyes on.
The Lucky Charms started to hoot and holler, rubbing their boas across their hips and dancing. Gavin and Killian kicked back and crossed their ankles, drinking whiskey with smiles on their faces. Liam left the room, pausing only to wave at Angie.
She swayed to the music, tempted to get up and join them, but they were a unit, and she’d just arrived. Would she be intruding?
No, probably not. Bets would love it.
She was on the verge of getting up when Megan and Ollie walked back in and sat next to her. “Oh, my God,” her sister whispered. “It’s like throwback ladies’ night. Do you think this is how it is every day? I’m not sure this is good for me or Ollie. You may not mind things being wild, but we’re grieving.”
“It’s only a little fun and isn’t hurting anyone. Besides, some music might be good for you. I was thinking about joining them.”
Megan grabbed her shoulders, making Ollie frown. “What are you thinking? You just got here. These are some of your future students. Business owners. You want them to respect you. Be smart, Angie.”
She bit her lip as her sister’s chiding stirred up feelings of anger. Why shouldn’t she dance a little and enjoy life? Her sister needed to loosen up. For goodness’ sake, Megan wouldn’t let her listen to anything other than family-friendly playlists on Spotify when Ollie was around. It wasn’t like she listened to anything filthy. She didn’t like being told what she could and couldn’t do in her own home. Annoyed, but not enough to defy Megan for the sake of it, she munched on the chocolate chip cookies Bets had made and tried not to be upset as she watched the older women have fun.
They were still dancing to Bon Jovi ten songs later, God love them.
Liam, who’d been in and out for the whole performance, reappeared and sat down beside Angie. “Mum and the Lucky Charms do love their Bon Jovi.”
“Why Bon Jovi?” she asked.
“Mum said she thought she might kill herself if she had to hear another group of people sing ‘It’s My Life’ when she worked at the bar back in the day, so she forced herself to listen to Bon Jovi for her entire day off. Dad swears she lost some marbles in the process. But after that trial by fire, Mum embraced Bon Jovi like a best friend. Her way of turning lemons into lemonade. She would dance her heart out and sing it at the top of her lungs. Always said she made a lot of tips that way.”
“I’ll bet,” Angie said, wishing she could have seen Bets in action as a bartender. She’d been too young back then. But if this impromptu welcome party was any indication, it had been a hell of a good time.
“Wanted Dead or Alive” started to play, and Liam winced. “You’ve probably noticed that I keep retreating to the kitchen. Breaks are mandatory if you want to keep your head. Even with all my meditation training, it drives me a little batty.”
“That would explain your long and frequent absences,” she teased, bumping him. “I knew you weren’t simply going back there to get us more water to chase the whiskey.”
“I’ve appreciated it,” Megan said, patting down an errant bang. “I’m so dehydrated from the plane ride. I thought about putting in the earplugs the flight attendant gave me, but I didn’t want to be rude. Ollie’s like his dad. He can sleep through anything.”
He’d fallen asleep midway through the dancing. Megan stroked his hair, her face alight with that angelic motherly smile Angie hoped to capture one day.
Truthfully, she wished her sister would look at her with such uncomplicated affection. When they were little kids, Megan always used to tag along with her. They’d find seashells or build sandcastles. But growing up hadn’t been good on their relationship. For a time, art had been a bond, even though their styles were completely different, with Megan being so careful and controlled, other than in those pieces with the glass, and Angie embracing a more Fauvist ideal. They’d driven to local art fairs together and helped each other set up their booths.
But when Tyson told Megan to stop doing ceramics, that bond had shriveled. Now all they had as a bond was Ollie and the fleeting hope of enjoying each other again. Or at least Angie hoped. It had been one of the reasons she’d suggested they move in with her. With Ollie at school, she’d hoped that she and Megan could perhaps comfort each other by spending quality time together, especially after Angie’s boyfriend left and she lost her job. But Megan had only lain around, awash in depression. The status of their relationship made her sad. Ollie was a shared bright spot, though, and she never forgot that.
“Got a spare pair of earplugs for me?” Liam gave a mischievous smile.
“You can have mine,” Angie said, shaking off her stupor. Her cousin was great—kind and a little soulful. Also, he looked like a pirate with his gold earring. It made her miss her gold belly ring, but her belly wasn’t the same as it had been.
“Gavin and Killian don’t seem to mind the music, incredibly enough,” Megan said.
Angie looked over at the two men. “They look engrossed in whatever they’re talking about.” While they still glanced over at the women from time to time, they weren’t staring at their wives like they had in the beginning.
“They’re pros at tuning the music out over a long night, Gavin especially, from being at the pub. Unless the girls get devilish and play the song to end all songs, as the men are fond of saying, then all bets are off.”
