Ashes of Fiery Weather by Kathleen Donohoe Read Free Book Online Page A

heard her, even over the din.
    The redhead rapped on the bar, hard, three times. “Sean! Come on!”
    Norah couldn’t believe the rudeness. Didn’t she see there were a dozen people ahead of her?
    â€œKnock it off, Eileen,” Sean said, his eyes on the glass he held beneath the tap.
    â€œMick’s not coming,” the redhead—Eileen—said. “Jackass is probably passed out already and you know it. Let me come back there and help.”
    Sean pushed fresh beers across the bar. “Five,” he said.
    Eileen raised her voice. “You can’t handle this crowd alone all night. Amred? Tell him!”
    Amred said, “Let her, Sean. This way, if Mick does show his face, I can get Lizzie to toss him out.”
    Sean glared at Eileen, then jabbed a finger at her. “I get half your tips.”
    â€œFair enough.” Eileen disappeared into the crowd. Seconds later, she popped up behind the bar.
    â€œHmm. I heard they weren’t even talking,” Marian said.
    â€œDid they break up or something?” Norah asked.
    â€œBreak up?” Marian snorted. “No, that’s his sister.”
    â€œHis sister?” Norah repeated. They weren’t remotely similar.
    Eileen handled her end of the bar as expertly as Sean, who moved down so that he was taking the order of the blond girl beside Norah and Marian. The blond leaned forward for the occasion, pressing her cleavage against the bar. She ordered a gin and tonic and a vodka and cranberry.
    â€œFor my girlfriend,” she said hopefully.
    Marian made a small noise of disgust in the back of her throat as Sean started to make the drinks.
    â€œSean,” Marian said. “Hi.”
    Sean glanced at her. “Hey, what’s up?”
    Norah flinched at the flatness in his tone. She willed Marian to notice and be quiet, but Marian said, “Work was crazy today. St. Patrick’s Day is like Christmas Eve in Santa’s workshop for us.” Clearly, she’d rehearsed the line.
    A flicker of a smile crossed Sean’s face. “I bet.”
    â€œI have this couple celebrating their fortieth wedding anniversary and they want to go to Belfast. I keep telling them that might not be a good idea. Better than asking, Do you want to get killed?”
    â€œCrazy shit going on there, yeah,” he agreed. “Ten,” he said to the blond, who then handed him a crumpled twenty.
    â€œI don’t think you’ve met Norah?”
    â€œDon’t think so,” he said.
    â€œShe works with me at Irish Dreams. She’s Irish.”
    Norah nodded, and Amred Lehane said, “Ah, Helen’s niece!”
    Sean gave the blond her change. She fanned the bills and carefully placed them on the bar. Sean gave a quick nod of thanks and turned away from her and looked at Norah.
    â€œFrom Ireland Irish?” he asked.
    Norah nodded. “I came over in January. It would have been a little sooner but my sister was having a baby, so we all figured I should wait.” She stopped and directed her gaze at the bar.
    â€œWell, Irish, what can I get you?” Sean asked.
    Norah raised her head to see Sean looking at her expectantly, not annoyed but smiling.
    She ordered four pints of Guinness. If he poured them right, she’d have a few minutes near him.
    â€œWhere in Ireland are you from?” he asked as he flipped two glasses upright.
    â€œGalway,” she said. “Ballyineen. You’ve probably never heard of it.”
    â€œNot on any maps?” he said.
    â€œI don’t know. I’ve never had to look.”
    Sean laughed, and after a second Norah smiled as though she
had
made a joke.
    â€œMy mother is Galway on both sides, she thinks. Way back, though,” Sean said.
    After two and a half months, she’d gotten used to the way Americans insisted on telling her where their families were from, as if she might nod and cry, Oh, yes, the O’Malleys from Mayo! The