Luck of the Irish Read Online Free PDF Page A

sucked ass. Her job at the ad agency sounded glamorous, but in reality she was a glorified gopher with no real responsibility or voice. It paid well enough for her to afford the one bedroom apartment in this old building, but one day blended into the next. There was no joy, no adventure or excitement and she couldn’t help but wonder if this was it.
    Was this all there was?
    The old-fashioned lever above the elevator doors moved like molasses in winter, and when it finally hit Lobby she almost wept with relief. She loved the beauty and character of the pre-war building, but the elevator was more than a little frightening. It creaked and moaned in protest during every ride, but Dave, the superintendent, assured her it was inspected regularly.
    The doors finally slid open and Maggie stepped into the empty car. She punched the button for the fourth floor and then checked her makeup in the mirror along the back wall. She was a mess. A hot mess. Jeez. No wonder she hadn’t had a date in months. But then again, it wasn’t like she actually tried to get a man. Most of the guys she dated were nice enough, but none of them held her interest long enough to warrant more than three or four dates. After her last outing with a big blockhead she met online, Maggie decided that romance and sex were not in her wheelhouse.
    She wasn’t good at it. Dating was awkward and weird. Nobody ever came out and said what they really wanted and the game was exhausting. She’d rather spend her time digging around in antique shops or reading books than trying to pretend to be someone she wasn’t. Besides, what guy would want to hear about her mirror story or the fairy tale that went with it? And if a man really did get interested and he wanted a family, what then? She couldn’t give that to anyone. Who the hell would want her?
    The answer? Nobody.
    The elevator dinged signaling the arrival at her floor. After digging her key out of her purse she managed to let herself into her apartment without dropping the mirror, which was tucked under her arm. Her muscles were screaming in protest, but she got inside and kicked the door closed before bringing it over to the coffee table.
    Letting out an exhausted sigh, Maggie tore off her coat and gloves before tossing them on the overstuffed, beige chair. She nibbled on her thumb and stared at the wrapped package. Wine. She definitely needed a glass of wine before taking the paper off and exploring the possibility that she was either crazy or in possession of a magic mirror.
    Maggie changed her clothes quickly and slipped into her black yoga pants and tank top. The clothes she wore to the city were too confining and a little voice in the back of her mind told her to get comfortable. Smiling at her foolishness, Maggie snagged the glass of Chardonnay off the mantle of the fireplace and took a sip. Her gaze never left the package.
    “This is silly,” she whispered out loud to her empty apartment. “Just open the damn thing.”
    Maggie drained the rest of the wine from her glass before sitting on the floral sofa and carefully peeling open the bubble wrap and brown paper. Her stomach was in knots as she turned the mirror face up and held it in front of her with both hands. It looked normal enough, but there was no denying what she’d heard when she touched the glass back at the store.
    The gold emblem, the one that matched her necklace, sat at the top of the oval gilded frame, and when she leaned closer she realized that it was a recessed space. She ran her finger over it and let out a shuddering breath. Maggie had a sinking suspicion that the amulet around her neck would fit perfectly in that space.
    “A key,” she whispered through trembling lips. “Aunt Lizzie said the amulet was a key to release the leprechaun from his prison.”
    Rising to her feet, Maggie carried the mirror down the narrow hallway to her bedroom. She bumped the door open with her hip and stepped into the small, cozy green and white room.