Her short legs stumbled backwards as the crowd corralled her toward the bar. No one heard her from her low altitude. “Excuse me!”
She ducked under a heavily tattooed arm and squeezed past a set of glittering green breasts smooshed into an orange tube top. Something knocked her headband loose, but she quickly caught it and righted it, scowling.
This had to be some sort of fire code violation. Didn’t these people work? It was a Tuesday afternoon for crying out loud!
The entire parade seemed trapped between these walls. Long tables, bedecked in kelly green, skirted the back wall of a room mostly occupied by pool tables. Steaming chafing dishes covered every surface and patrons loaded their plates with Irish fare.
“Did you want to eat, love?”
Maggie turned, stunned someone finally acknowledged her presence in the tornado of chaos. Staring at the woman, Maggie’s eyes widened. She looked to be in her last month of pregnancy and carrying triplets. What the hell was she doing in a rowdy bar?
“Sure,” Maggie said, more out of pity for the woman’s condition than any sort of hunger for corned beef and cabbage. “How much?”
“Five bucks and it’s all you can eat until the food’s gone.”
Maggie dug out a five and paid. The woman tucked it into a small metal cash tray and handed her a plate, then stamped her hand with a green Celtic cross.
“Lá Fhéile Pádraig sona duit! Come back if you need another plate.”
Maggie held her green paper plate to her chest and blinked wide-eyed at the wall of patrons lined up for food. A small redheaded child sprang through the crowd, her curly hair cascading down her back in flaming ringlets and her dress like that of a leprechaun’s.
They let children in bars?
The girl, who couldn’t be more than five, lifted to her toes that were encased in black dance shoes that laced up her calves and shouted in the pregnant woman’s ear, “Mum thaid to get thomething to eat. The’ll be out in a minute.”
The pregnant woman nodded. “Can you watch the cash box?”
The little girl smiled with no front teeth, scooted into the booth, and clutched the box, dragging it close to her body. “Do I get to thell the plates?”
“Yes, you get to sell the plates. Five dollars, okay?”
The little pixie-like creature stuck out a thumb. “Got it, Aunt Thammy.”
Maggie’s heart fluttered at the little girl’s sweet lisp and red curls. She found herself inexplicably smiling, her eyes slightly damp but not with tears of sadness. There was just something precious about the woman and child and the whole exchange.
“I’m starving,” the pregnant woman said, stepping behind Maggie and speaking to her, as if the purchase of a plate somehow made them friends.
“Oh, you can go ahead of me,” she offered.
“You sure?”
Maggie nodded and followed her to the food line. “I’m Sam McCullough. I don’t think I’ve met you before.”
“Maggie … Harris.” It was the second time she’d given her birth name rather than her married name, but it felt right, being that they were in O’Malley’s Pub a place where O’Malley’s didn’t typically visit.
Sam smiled. “I highly recommend the Irish soda bread and colcannon soup. My mother-in-law makes both, and I swear she adds crack or something to the recipe. They’re totally addicting.”
Maggie loaded up on both. “So, you’re a McCullough? Your family owns the bar?”
She nodded. “My brother-in-law, Kelly, runs the pub, but he’s away right now so we’re all pitching in. It’s sort of a family-owned business.”
She thought about the girl she met that morning. “Are you related to the girl who works at the café, too?”
“Tallulah?” Sam’s smile beamed with pride. “That’s my daughter.”
She could see it now in the shape of her nose and the angle of her eyes, but the younger girl’s coloring was more olive. Sam was all ivory skin and freckles. “She’s a beautiful girl. I bought a scone from her earlier.”
Sam laughed. “Those scones are out of this world, aren’t they? My mother-in-law makes them, too.”
Maggie recalled how delicious the pastry was and found herself more excited to taste the pub food. She glanced back at the line, wishing she’d grabbed more Irish soda bread.
“Your mother-in-law can definitely bake.”
Sam’s eyes twinkled with laughter. “She’d love you on the spot if she heard you say that. Come on, we have a reserved table up front. You won’t find a seat anywhere else at this point.”
They passed the little girl minding the cash box. Another little girl had joined her, this one also dressed in an Irish dance costume but with blonde hair. A striking woman with red hair smiled at Sam as they passed by the table.
“Take your time, Sammy. I’ve got this covered for a while.” The redheaded woman said as they waited for the crowd to shift.
Sam paused at the table. “Thanks for relieving me, Devil.” She pointed to Maggie. “This is Maggie Harris. Maggie, this is my sister-in-law, Sheilagh.”