Whiskey Island Read Online Free PDF Page A

else.”
    “She’s just starting to feel comfortable with me. She’s had such a hard time, I hate to move her somewhere else unless it’s absolutely necessary. I’ll keep an eye on things. If anything comes up, I’ll call right away.”
    “I can’t give you the new number. But you know who to call for it.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “Give her a kiss from me, will you?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “And a big kiss from…somebody else.”
    “You know it.”
    “Watch out for her.”
    “You know I will.”
    A click signaled the conversation’s end.
    Casey registered the noise from the saloon. As young children, she and Megan had built forts from the boxes and chairs stored in this room while they listened to the laughter and the music next door. Whiskey Island Saloon had been a happy place, filled with her mother’s easy warmth and her father’s lilting, lyrical tenor.
    No one had ever sung “The Gypsy Rover” or “The Rising of the Moon” as well as her father. Or as often.
    Her smile bloomed, then died. She had to talk to Megan. This night had been one long series of surprises. And now she had another to share with her sister.
     
    Megan hadn’t expected to have Casey join her behind the bar. She was only halfway finished filling a tray with black and tans, and had two pints of Guinness to add to it, but she could manage alone. She tried to shoo her away.
    “The excitement’s died down. Go on upstairs. I can manage until Barry gets back.”
    Megan was worried about her sister. Casey’s face was still colorless and pinched with worry, even though an hour had passed since the carjacking. Megan suspected she needed a good cry and a better night’s sleep, but would likely indulge in neither.
    Casey began drawing pints with a practiced hand, although it had been years since she’d been instructed in the fine points of the art by their father. But Megan knew her sister had tended bar, among other jobs, to put herself through graduate school, and obviously she’d learned a thing or two.
    Casey looked up at the end of the first pint. “I was just up there. I have to talk to you, Meg.”
    “Then you’ll have to do it on the fly. The minute Barry comes back, I have to start on the kitchen. I was scrubbing pots when I heard the sirens, and tomorrow’s bread is baking.”
    “Don’t you have a night cook?”
    Whiskey Island’s night cook was a community college student who did such a fine job when he showed up that Megan didn’t fire him for the times he forgot to. “His name’s Artie, and he’s studying for an exam. He only realized this afternoon that he has one tomorrow.”
    “You have to get somebody reliable.”
    “Reliable for what I pay? There is such a person?”
    “I’ll scrub. You come and talk to me when you can.”
    Megan grabbed the full tray. “Don’t even think about it. Go back upstairs. I’ll come up when I’ve finished, and we can talk all night if you want. You can start by telling me what you’re doing here, and why you’re suddenly mothering someone else’s kid.” She paused. “You know, if I’d known you were coming, I’d have killed the fatted calf. Instead I made potato chowder.”
    Casey didn’t smile. “I need to talk to you now. ”
    Megan frowned. Casey liked to have her own way—it was a family failing. “Then fill the popcorn baskets. I’ll take this to the table. Maybe we’ll have a minute in a minute.”
    It was more than a minute but less than ten before there was a lull. They huddled at one end of the bar, while Megan kept her eye on their patrons. Sam Trumbull, a feisty little man who was practically the saloon mascot, was ingratiating himself with the party she’d just served. Before long they would buy him a pint. She’d seen it before.
    “Okay, where do we start?” Megan asked. “How long are you going to be here?”
    “It depends on how long you’ll let me stay.”
    Megan was so surprised she didn’t answer.
    “That bad, huh?” Casey said. “You