Whiskey Island by Emilie Richards Read Free Book Online Page A

family, but in the larger community, as well.
    Dennis’s eyes were shining in anticipation. “I don’t suppose you’d tell me what you put in it to make it so creamy, would you now?”
    Megan pretended to think, opened her mouth as if to speak, then clamped her lips shut and smiled.
    “Rascal,” he crowed.
    “Peggy?” Megan shouted and waved simultaneously, and Peggy, carrying a tray filled with empty glasses, turned.
    “One chowder.” She pointed at her uncle. “And a Coke to go with it.”
    Peggy blew Uncle Dennis a kiss and went off to deposit her tray in the kitchen.
    Casey wandered up to join them. As guest of honor, she was dressed in skintight black velvet leggings and an embroidered gold tunic elaborate enough to evoke mayhem in a pasha’s harem. It suited her.
    She made a wry face. “I’m taking a break from cute childhood sayings, winsome anecdotes and fetching little recollections of pets, best friends and clubhouses built from cardboard boxes.”
    “You’ve come to the right place then, darling,” Dennis said. “I’ll tell you the truth. You were a hellion, pure and simple, and your sainted mother spent more time trying to keep the good sisters from throwing you out of St. Brigid’s than she did behind that bar over there.”
    “Cut out the brogue and the blarney, Uncle Den,” Megan said fondly. “You’ve been to Ireland once. On a two-week tour.”
    “But what a grand two weeks it was.”
    Casey kissed his cheek. “It’s refreshing to hear an honest man. My years away seem to have polished my past into something I sure as hell don’t remember.”
    “You were gone too long,” Dennis said. “Can you expect everyone to recall what a she-devil you were?”
    “Be careful, or I might think I wasn’t gone long enough.”
    “We missed you, darling. Each and every one of us in our own way. You had no right to remove yourself from the heart of the family for so long.” He kissed her cheek, then wandered off to join another conversation.
    “Having fun?” Megan asked wryly.
    “What do you think?”
    Megan cocked her head. “I think you’re overwhelmed. It’s been a long time.”
    “It was gatherings like these that convinced me we should sell the saloon in the first place.”
    Megan realized they were treading very close to the subject they hadn’t discussed in years, the subject that had caused their rift. “And gatherings like this convinced me we shouldn’t. ”
    “Well, you got your way, didn’t you, and here we are, having another.”
    “Are you really so unhappy to be surrounded by family again?”
    “What can I say? After insisting I’d never walk through that door again, here I am. I needed help, and I came running. To Whiskey Island and you.”
    Casey was waylaid by a second cousin, and Megan trooped off to take a break from the crowd. By her count, in addition to the regulars and a few walk-ins, there were about fifty well-wishers here tonight—a smallish group, under the circumstances. Winter had brought with it a particularly nasty strain of flu, and most of the Donaghues with small children or resident grandparents had stayed home to avoid it.
    In the kitchen she found Peggy ladling chowder into a bowl. Artie, the oft-absent night cook, was probably taking a well-deserved break.
    Megan was struck, as always, by how lovely her youngest sister was, with her dark chestnut hair and a darker rendition of Megan’s own amber eyes. Her features were softer than Megan’s or Casey’s, her willowy body more rounded. Most notably, though, she seemed to have faith in the whole human race, and it showed in every expression and gesture. When Peggy was a little girl Megan had been terrified she would befriend an ax murderer, convinced he was simply a good man who needed career counseling.
    “You couldn’t have managed without me, you know,” Peggy said over her shoulder. “This place is a zoo tonight.”
    Since news of the carjacking had been printed on the front page of