Shamrocks & Shenanigans in Pelican Point (Pelican Point #12)

Chapter 1

QUINN

“One day, this will all be yours, my child.”

“But Gramps, why would I want a stinky old bar?”

The words of my teenage-self come back to haunt me as I stand inside of Kavanaugh’s Korner for the first time since my grandfather’s death, overwhelmed by the stale smell of beer and the sight of decades-old dust. When I opened the worn mahogany door, it was like stepping back in time.

Everything looks and feels the same as it was the entirety of my childhood.

My insides quiver with nerves at the thought of taking over his legacy and keeping the Kavanaugh name alive, but I’m determined to make it work.

For his sake. The man who loved me unconditionally, and raised me after my parents died in a car accident when I was twelve years old.

I won’t let you down, Gramps. I promise.

Surrounded by dusty silence, I let the happy memories wrap around me like a familiar embrace.

The morning sun filtering through the dirty stained-glass windows casts a dim light on decades of family photos and memorabilia, but fails to hide the scuffs on the worn wooden floors that have supported four generations of Kavanaughs.

Like a vision from the past, Maeve Higgins, my gramps’ long-time barmaid and right hand, emerges from the back room.

“Quinn, dear. You’re here.”

She states the obvious, but I know it’s her way of telling me she’s glad to see me, and happy I made the decision to return to Pelican Point and the family business.

I could have easily remained in Boston where I’ve built a good life and career, and left her in charge of the pub she’s been an integral part of for as long as I can remember.

But when I proposed that to her, she wouldn’t hear of it.

“Quinn, don’t be silly. Your grandfather left the pub to you. It’s always been run by a Kavanaugh, and it always should be.”

“But Maeve, you are family. You’ve been like a mother to me ever since Mom died. And you’ve been so loyal to Gramps. You’ve been the backbone of the pub for years. Why should that change?”

“Because it belongs to you. It’s your future. It’s time to come home.”

She wraps me in her arms for a warm hug, then steps back, eyeing me thoroughly. “How about some tea? It’ll take the chill off.”

It’s late January in coastal Florida, so a morning chill means it’s in the high sixties, which would feel downright balmy in Boston, where I’ve lived for the last ten years. Still, an Irish breakfast tea sounds really soothing right now, a way to ease myself back into the environment I grew up in.

I take a seat at the bar, placing my Louis Vuitton bag on a stool beside me. Although my clothing style and taste lean to vintage, quality designer handbags are the exception; the one indulgence I’ve allowed myself since I worked my way up from entry level in the marketing district of Boston.

Within minutes, Maeve puts a steaming mug in front of me, then sets out a small pitcher of milk and a bowl of sweetener, before perching on a stool on the working side of the bar with a mug for herself.

As I stir in the sugar substitute, I look at Maeve and note the concern on her face. What has she not told me?

I place the spoon on the bar and reach over to take her hand. “Maeve, how are you doing? I know Gramps was very important to you. You’ve suffered a loss as well.”

She gives me a smile, but I can see the sadness in her eyes.

“I miss my friend, that’s for sure. But I’m comforted by the fact that he lived a long, satisfying life.

You and this pub were everything to him.

Before he died, he made me promise I’d take care of things until you came home.

I told him I would show you everything you needed to know. ”

“Thank you. I appreciate all you’ve done for him.

And for me.” I expel a long breath as sadness and regret fall over me.

I guess I thought Gramps would live forever.

Maybe I should have come home sooner. I’ll never get the last ten years back, and now he’s gone.

But I can feel him here. His spirit will always be within these walls.

Why did I think I could let this go? “I miss him, too. But I get the sense there’s something you’re not telling me.

Was he sick? Was he keeping anything from me? Please, talk to me.”

Maeve takes a sip of her tea, then cradles the mug in her hands.

“He wasn’t sick. He simply went to sleep one night and didn’t wake up.

He went peacefully. All of his wishes were outlined in his will and a letter he left for me.

But there is something you need to know.

Someone wanted to buy the pub from him. He was adamant about not selling.

He was determined to keep the Kavanaugh name on this bar.

Keep it in the family. Save it for you. It was not for sale at any price as long as he was living and breathing. ”

Gramps never mentioned the possibility to me that anyone wanted the bar.

Who on earth would be interested? I wouldn’t think from a financial perspective there would be a demand for a run-down neighborhood bar.

Besides, there’s another Irish pub right next to this one.

I voice the question to Maeve, who frowns in response.

“You probably don’t remember this, since you were just a child, but there’s always been a rivalry with the other pub across the alley.”

“You’re right. I don’t remember that.”

“The Irish Brogue has always been in the O’Brien family. The great-grandson of the original owner runs it now. His name is Kane O’Brien.”

“Kane O’Brien?”

“Yes. He’s probably close to your age. Do you know him?”

Who doesn’t? Kane O’Brien was the golden boy of Pelican Point High back in the day. He was one of the highest-ranked soccer players in the state and every girl’s high school crush. Kane was a senior when I was a freshman, so he wouldn’t have known I even existed. “I remember him.”

Maeve grins. “He was quite persistent for a while. And you know how feisty Connor could be. One day, he was in an especially grumpy mood, and Kane came in bugging him about selling. He chased him out of here with that old Irish sword hanging on the wall over there. From that point on, Kane kept his distance.”

The vision of my eighty-one-year-old grandfather running after Kane causes me to giggle. But what Maeve says next sobers me quickly.

“Now that he’s gone, I worry that Kane will come back around with his offer.

He probably thinks you have no interest in running this place.

But I know better. He doesn’t realize your veins have Kavanaugh blood flowing through them.

You’re no pushover.” She leans across to touch my arm.

“And you know what else? You’ve got plenty of people in your corner.

Me, as well as loyal customers and friends of Connor who want you to succeed in keeping Kavanaugh’s open. ”

As I mull over Maeve’s words, my marketing executive brain kicks in, my mind spinning with possibilities for resurrecting the bar.

But first, I need to know what I’m getting myself into.

“In order to figure out what’s best for the pub, I need to see what shape the business is in.

Please tell me Gramps computerized his ledgers and files at some point. ”

Several hours later, I’ve got a headache and my stomach is rumbling with hunger.

I haven’t eaten all day, instead choosing to head to Gramps’ office in the back room, after Maeve told me I would find everything there I needed to see.

Although my belly is empty of food, it’s full of dread as I sort through a stack of unpaid bills, lists of needed repairs, a ledger in the red, and a barely functioning vintage desktop computer.

Oh, Gramps. Why didn’t you tell me the bar was struggling? I could have helped.

A loud knocking at the front door sends my headache into a full-on raging, throbbing attack at both the front and back of my head.

I get up from the desk, wincing in pain with each step.

As I approach the front door, I spot the imposing presence of a tall man through the decorative cut glass window.

Kane O’Brien.