Page 54 of After Indigo Irish Nights
“Those were good days when Dad let us behind the bar,” Brady said, wiping down the mahogany top with his ever-handy bar towel, exactly as their dad used to when he was in charge.
He’d always told them they should have pride in what they did, and both of them had taken that lesson to heart. Declan kept his butcher counter clean like that as well as his boxing equipment. The little things mattered. They made the bigger things possible.
“You can have my chair since you’ll be judging this impending showdown,” Liam said as he vacated his seat beside Ellie.
Eoghan and his cousin gave a dramatic squeak before Eoghan said, “I’m not sure close relations should be judging an event such as this. We need someone independent, and with plenty of beer drinking experience.”
“True enough,” Declan said, glad to be out of it.
“We’d be the perfect judges, of course,” Fergus added. “I’m in me eighty-eighth year, and I had my first pint when I was eight. After Paddy O’Malley’s funeral dinner, God rest him. I still remember the frothy head touching my lips. I finally understood why they called Guinness ‘mother’s milk.’ I thought I’d died and gone to heaven like good ol’ Paddy himself.”
“That’s eight decades of experience.” Kathleen leaned on the bar with her elbows. “You should definitely be a judge, Fergus.”
“You’ll need a younger man as well,” Carrick Fitzgerald threw out from his position at a nearby table. He had one hand on his very pregnant wife. “I volunteer myself.”
“Have at it. Another drink might help you stop worrying about me giving birth,” Angie said, rolling her eyes. “He has sheep lambing right and left—”
“He’s not married to a sheep,” Liam said practically.
“Sheep aren’t stupid,” Donal called out, “but I don’t think they fret about birthing.”
“You should know,” Bets said, rolling her eyes. “The world over, men seem to think they know what childbirth is like. Holding someone’s hand and saying ‘Push’ just doesn’t cut it.”
The rest of the Lucky Charms nodded and agreed enthusiastically, joined by Angie’s sister, Megan.
Declan shot Brady a look. Childbirth talk in a pub? Their father would have turned up the music and poured another round, only he didn’t interfere since retiring. No, when he turned his gaze to their father, their dad was downing his whiskey with a disgruntled look on his face. Declan almost laughed.
“Who will you be betting on, Declan McGrath?” Cormac called out. “Your brother, the man you shared a womb with, or the beautiful Yank?”
How was he to go against his brother or his woman? Inspiration struck. “I’m placing a fifty on my brother here as well as the Yank.”
Kathleen gave a sweeping bow in his direction while Brady downright grinned. Murmurs rippled through the crowd. It was an unusual bet, and everyone knew it. He glanced at Kathleen. How was that for announcing his feelings?
“Only a stupid man would bet against a beautiful woman,” he added, “even if the manishis brother.”
“Especiallyif the man is his brother,” Carrick called out. “I would bet on Angie before Jamie here.”
“Nice save.” Liam looked over his shoulder before shifting on his feet and grinning at Declan. “Must be the boxing training.” His gaze turned shrewd. “Plus, you haven’t been at Summercrest much lately, and you’ll be thanking me for not saying a word about it right now.”
He nudged his friend’s shoulder like they were boys. “Thank you.”
Another round of betting followed his bold declaration, and he caught Kathleen’s appraising look. He knew the many variations of light in those brown eyes of hers. They were as startling and bright as diamonds after his bet. He shot her a smile, his heart pulsing in his chest.
“All right, let’s start this contest,” Cormac called out, closing his book. “You’ll have to settle on who’s judging.”
Donal volunteered Bets as she’d been a bartender back in the States, but Bets declared she was having none of that madness. Having said as much, she promptly took over the arrangements and organized what she called aproperbeer contest.
People who wished to judge were ordered to put their names in Eoghan’s houndstooth tam hat, and he drew out of it five judges with his usual showmanship. Minutes later, the chosen judges were sitting in the bar’s dark wood chairs, their backs to the bar as Kathleen and Brady pulled pints.
Declan eyed the people presiding over the contest. Fergus had said good luck was with him, being that his name was the first to be pulled. Kade Donovan was sitting beside him in his usual quiet way. Seamus had also won a spot, along with Bets herself, who got roped in, and Lisa Ann.
Ellie pulled paper from the notebook she kept in her purse for the scoring. Liam found each of the judges a writing implement. Declan—being a good brother—brought over the pints after tagging them with a secret symbol to keep the pourer’s identity anonymous for the judges.
Declan fixed his eyes on Kathleen as he talked to his friends. She was busy pulling pints alongside his brother, her brow knit with concentration. By God, she was as serious as they came. His father had been right. Brady had better watch himself.
A blind test had never been done in the Brazen Donkey, and as the judges drank and wrote notes and drank some more, Eoghan called out, “Maybe we need to have the winner go up against Gavin to see who’s the best pull in Caisleán after this.”
Brady grinned, but his father grimaced like he’d tasted foul fisherman’s stew during Lent. “I’m not in charge anymore, Eoghan. Besides, I’d rather not go up against my own boy, should he win. I’ll be wanting my Sunday dinners to stay peaceful. This contest will be the last.”
