Chapter Ten
The dark wood interior of O’Faredeigh’s felt welcoming after the bright sunlight outside. Music drifted from hidden speakers, something jazzy and familiar that had Eloise tempted to tap her toes.
“Be with you in a minute,” Jamie called from behind the bar. “Take any seat you want.”
“Best table in the house.” Quinn pulled out a chair halfway between the bar and the table where his aunt and friends were playing cards. “Unless you’d rather sit at the bar?”
“This is perfect.” Eloise settled into the offered chair, enjoying the peace and quiet. The subtle decorations on the wall, the dark rich paneling, and the dim lights succeeded in somehow making her feel as if she’d been transported far away to Ireland. The pub held that perfect mix of old and new—worn wood floors, vintage photos on the walls, but spotless tables and gleaming brass fixtures. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until the aroma of corned beef reached their table.
Jamie approached, set two glasses of water on the table, and smiled at Eloise. “Welcome to O’Faredeigh’s.”
“Thank you.”
“Here for lunch or just some refreshment?”
“Lunch,” Quinn said.
“The usual?”
“Yep. Corned beef and cabbage with a thick slab of soda bread and extra butter.” The man smiled wider than the Rio Grande.
“You are a creature of habit.” Jamie turned his head. “And for our new chef?”
“I hear that your special today is outstanding.”
“The Reuben?”
She nodded, anxious to see if the sandwich was as good as Sally May claimed.
“Good choice.” Jamie returned the smile.
“Are the chips really homemade?”
“Sliced thin for crispiness by yours truly every morning.”
“Excellent. Please add your house-made chips.”
“Will do.” Jamie took their drink orders and with a promise of speedy service, headed for the kitchen.
Once Jamie had disappeared into the kitchen, Eloise turned her attention to her lunch partner. “Jamie’s smile reminds me of your uncle Sean.”
“The Farraday genes run strong. Even though Uncle Sean and Uncle Brian are first cousins, we all are clearly cut from the same mold.”
“I can see. But I have a question.”
“Shoot.” Quinn fiddled with a fork on the table.
“If the family name is Farraday, why is the pub called O’Faredeigh’s?”
“Ah. When the first O’Faredeigh came to the United States, the port shortened it.”
“I’d heard that happened a lot.”
“You’d be amazed. I went to college with a kid whose last name was Calabria, turns out that their ancestor didn’t speak English and he wound up with where he was born as his last name.”
“Yep,” she nodded, “they did the same with one of my grandmothers. Her Irish last name was Noughton, but it was anglicized to Norton.”
Sally May’s triumphant laugh carried from the card table, followed by good-natured groans from her fellow players. The afternoon sun slanted through the pub’s windows, catching the brass rails and making them gleam.
“Do they play cards here often?”
“Usually they play twice a week at the café, but sometimes they’ll play elsewhere as the mood moves them.”
Squinting at the table, Eloise tipped her head, studying the table. “What are they playing?”
“Poker.”
Eloise almost spit out her sip of water. “I’m sorry. Did you say poker?”
Chuckling, Quinn laughed. “Don’t let those sweet faces fool you. They’re card sharks.”
“I thought you were going to say something like canasta, or bridge, but poker?
“Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to judge a book by its cover?”
“Apparently not.” Shifting in her seat, she glanced over at the card table. Knowing they were playing poker put a whole new spin on things. How many more surprises did this town and this family have in store for her?
The music overhead shifted to a familiar Sinatra tune. From the card table, Aunt Eileen’s humming grew louder, her voice adding depth to the melody.
“Is that your aunt I hear?”
Quinn paused to listen, then nodded. “Sounds like it.”
“She’s good.”
“Better than good. Before she moved here to help Uncle Sean raise the family after Aunt Helen died, Aunt Eileen used to be a jazz singer.”
“Wow.” She paused to listen and wished his aunt hadn’t stopped singing and returned to humming.
Jamie arrived with their lunch the rich smell of toasted rye and sauerkraut making her mouth water. A basket of crispy house-made chips accompanied her order. “Can I get you anything else?”
“This looks perfect,” Eloise assured him, already reaching for her sandwich.
“Very well. Whistle if you need anything.”
Quinn reached for his cousin’s arm. “What do you say we turn on the microphone?”
One eyebrow shot higher than the other on Jamie’s face. “You realize what will happen?”
“I do.” Quinn tipped his head in Eloise’s direction. “Our guest wanted to hear Aunt Eileen sing.”
“Whatever the customer wants.” Jamie spun about and walked toward what Eloise realized was an empty space saved for use as a stage, and he pulled out a microphone stand and fiddle with some nearby equipment.
Whispers could be heard from the card table at the same time the handful of patrons in the pub began pointing at Jamie.
The music shifted from Old Blue Eyes to something different—if she wasn’t mistaken, an old Burt Bacharach tune, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it from the opening notes. Anxious to taste the sandwich, Eloise took her first bite. Heaven. Tender corned beef, sharp Swiss cheese, the tang of Russian dressing perfectly balanced. “Oh my gosh.”
Lifting his chin toward the stage, Quinn smiled. “That’s nothing. Here comes the real show stopper.”
As soon as Quinn recognized the song “Say a Little Prayer,” he knew his aunt wouldn’t be able to resist picking up the mic. Keeping an eye on her table, he recognized the head bobbing and shaking for what he’d seen so many times before. When his aunt and Dorothy and Sally May stood, he knew the real show was about to begin.
Eloise’s gaze followed the direction he’d pointed and then suddenly, her eyes sparkled and she turned to him. “Oh, I love this song. Did you ever see the movie My Best Friend’s Wedding ? The scene with this song was one of the best. That and the finale when her friend tells her, ‘by God, there’ll be dancing.’”
“You like to dance?”
Her head bobbed, but before she could say anything, his aunt tapped the microphone.
Hearing the mic was on, without skipping a beat, Aunt Eileen launched into the second verse of one of her favorite songs, her rich voice filling the pub. Dorothy and Sally May provided backup, reminding him of the Supremes, or any other girl band of the sixties.
The chattering of the patrons eased into silence as everyone inched closer to the stage, all ears on his aunt.
“She’s good,” Eloise said.
The song came to an end and immediately, Aunt Eileen launched into “Always Something There to Remind Me.”
Someone must have texted that Aunt Eileen was singing because the pub door kept opening and folks began to pour in, settling in empty tables around the makeshift stage. Even Finn stopped wiping glasses to watch.
“I take it back, she’s not good, she’s amazing,” Eloise whispered, her sandwich forgotten. “I had no idea.”
For spur of the moment, his aunt was putting on quite the show. She didn’t do it often, but when she could be talked into performing, everyone walked away happy. Aunt Eileen had done several songs, and then paused, stared at Quinn a moment before announcing, “This is my last song as I have a hot deck of cards waiting for me.”
The scattered patrons chuckled. The Tuckers Bluff Ladies Afternoon Social Club was well known in town.
“I certainly hope somebody gets up to dance. I hate it when a good slow dance song is wasted.”
Again, folks began chuckling softly. Several notes played. No one moved. His aunt sighed and began crooning—did women croon?—“The Way You Look Tonight.” Still no one moved, and then it hit him, that was another song from the movie Eloise had mentioned. Not the last song, but from the movie nonetheless. Pushing to his feet, he offered his hand. “We can’t disappoint Aunt Eileen.”
Her fingers slipped into his, warm and sure. As he led her to the makeshift dance floor, he couldn’t help noticing how perfectly she fit against him.
“I should warn you,” she said as they started moving to the music, “I learned to dance in Chicago clubs.”
“And I learned at barn raising parties.” He spun her gently. “We’ll make it work.”
Her smile could have powered the whole town. “Yes, we will.”
Slowly, another couple joined them, and then one more. The small space became crowded with dancing couples, though it didn’t matter, his attention stayed on Eloise. He spun her out, then curled her back into the hold of his arms. She moved with such natural grace. Her eyes sparkled with so much contentment, he wanted to keep twirling her in and out as long as it made her happy.
“You’re a very good dancer. I don’t believe for a minute that you learned to dance anywhere near a barn.”
“Don’t let the location fool you. Most everyone in these parts knows how to dance at least a little.” To make his point, he spun her out again, pulling her back in a move that had her laughing in surprise. They fell into an easy pattern, part swing, part two-step, creating their own style as they went. He wished the dance didn’t have to end.
The music slowed to a stop, and his aunt’s voice resounded through the room. “I know I said that would be my last song, but I’ve had a special request for just one more.”
Knowing another song was coming, no one left the floor. Like everyone else, he and Eloise kept their gazes on his aunt. The notes began to play and he immediately recognized her signature song—“At Last.” Aunt Eileen pulled the mic off the stand, waved her friends off the stage, winked at Quinn, and began singing.
Every single word seemed to reverberate through him. Holding Eloise close against him, feeling the warmth of her breath against his shoulder, wishing he could pull her even closer and keep dancing for the rest of their lives, he didn’t understand what was going on, but he did know one thing, Eloise Carey was the best thing that had happened to him in a very long time.