The Parting Glass Read Online Free PDF Page B

they’d be by with them shortly. Not to worry.”
    “Easy for you to say.”
    Charlie’s eyes sparkled. His only son lived in New York, and the staff and patrons of the Whiskey Island Saloon were his Cleveland family. “And Greta says she’s going to quit if she has to stuff one more piece of cabbage.”
    Greta was Megan’s treasured kitchen assistant and a fabulous cook in her own right, as well as a dedicated employee. “She always says that. Anything else?”
    “Kieran went down for a nap about an hour ago, and the sitter left. The baby monitor’s in the kitchen with Greta.”
    Peggy had expected that. The sitter had other obligations, and they had agreed to this compromise, knowing how regular Kieran’s nap time was. The older woman was one of the few outsiders who was willing to look after Kieran at all. How blessed it was to let someone else assume her son’s care for a few hours, and how impossible that would be beginning tomorrow.
    But that was the way she had wanted it.
    Charlie clapped Peggy on the shoulder. “Say, have you heard the one about the Irish priest who got stopped for speeding on Euclid Avenue? See, the cop smells alcohol on the good father’s breath and notices an empty wine bottle on the floor, so he knows he has to ask him about it. ‘Father, have you been drinking?’ he says. And the priest says, ‘Just water, my son.’ So the trooper picks up the bottle and holds it out in front of him. ‘Then what’s this, Father,’ he says. The priest throws up his hands. ‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph, he’s done it again!’”
    She groaned. “Charlie, you’re the worst.”
    He grinned as he disappeared into the growing crowd.
    Peggy went straight to the kitchen. Greta was supervising a crew of cousins and customers who were setting food on platters and taking it out to the bar for the reception. Behind her, Peggy could hear the front door opening and closing regularly, and she knew that soon enough the saloon would look the way it did on St. Patrick’s Day.
    “Everything going okay in here?”
    Greta looked up, her moon face glowing with perspiration. “Did you know Nick’s family was bringing food?”
    Until she’d seen them at the church, Peggy hadn’t even known Nick’s family were bringing them selves .
    Greta waved one hand behind her toward the steel counter on the far wall. “Piles of it. They dropped it off before the wedding. His mother gave me instructions, like I don’t know how to heat up covered dishes? Why didn’t somebody tell me? I’ve been cooking for a week.”
    “Nobody knew they were coming, Greta. I’m sorry. But I can guarantee everything you cooked will get eaten. Every single bit of it, and they’ll lick their plates.”
    “Manicotti like you never seen. Sausages and peppers. Meatballs!” Greta grimaced. “All of it pretty good, too.”
    Peggy put her arms around her for a quick hug. “Soldier on, okay? The Donaghues will eat their weight in corned beef. You can count on it.”
    “They better!”
    “No sounds from upstairs?”
    “Not a peep, and I’ve got the monitor turned up all the way.”
    “Just let me know.” Peggy heard the unmistakable pop of a champagne cork and sprinted back into the saloon and behind the bar. “Sam, who told you to start opening that?”
    Sam Trumbull, another loyal customer, gave her a cock-eyed grin. He was a little man, with a chronic thirst and a line that could convince any stranger to buy him a drink in ten seconds flat. “Somebody put me in charge. I can’t remember who.”
    There was just enough champagne for one good round of toasts right before the cake was cut. Before that the guests would have to settle for the excellent wines Niccolo had chosen, Barry’s mixed drinks, or the best Guinness in Cleveland.
    “Not another bottle,” she warned. “Not until I tell you to. It’s going to go flat.”
    “I just thought I’d check and see if the temperature was right.” He held out the bottle. “Want to