Shore Lights (38 page)

 
“KOLYA,” HANNAH SAID. “I love you, Kolya.”

Maddy looked up from the mermaid's torso. “What was that, honey?”

Hannah looked dreamy, different in a way Maddy couldn't define.

“Hannah,” Maddy said again. “What did you say?”

“Nothing, Mommy. I was talking to my friend.” She patted snow along the mermaid's right hip.

Maddy sighed and looked over at Aidan, who was busy working on the mermaid's snowy flippers. “Did Kelly have
friends
, too, when she was Hannah's age?”

Aidan grinned at her. “A pocket horse named Ivor who lived in Barbie's Dream House.”

Maddy burst into laughter. “And what did you think about that?”

He shrugged. “I left a cup of shredded wheat ‘hay' on her nightstand every Saturday until Ivor went off to join the circus.”

“The first time I brought home one of those friends, Rose took us all off to family therapy.”

It was his turn to burst into laughter. “Somehow that doesn't surprise me.”

Hannah was having trouble making the mermaid's scales, so Aidan gently guided her hands until she caught on. Within minutes she was beaming from ear to ear, proud of every scale that appeared beneath her fingers. Most men hadn't a clue what to do with a four-year-old girl. They either talked over her head or treated her like a tiny doll. Aidan did neither of those things. He saw Hannah as Hannah, an individual child with likes and dislikes and quirks all her own, and Hannah responded in kind.

You're a good father
, she thought. She had assumed so by virtue of his daughter's many accomplishments, but now she had the proof. He seemed to effortlessly hit just the right note with Hannah and soon had her giggling the way she used to do before grown-up problems turned her life upside down.

“Hi,” said a young woman's voice behind her. “Okay if I join you guys?”

Maddy squinted up into the bright sunshine and saw Kelly smiling down at her. “Grab a flipper,” she said, smiling back. “I think your father's having some trouble.”

Hannah peered over at Kelly. “Who're you?”

“I'm Kelly.” She pointed a thumb toward Aidan. “He's my dad.”

“You have Kolya's eyes,” Hannah said.

Kelly looked over at Maddy for an explanation.

“Kolya is Hannah's new friend,” she said carefully, not wanting to burst Hannah's imaginative bubble. “None of us has met him yet because he's very shy.”

“Well,” said Kelly, taking it all in stride, “I guess Kolya has blue eyes. Right, Hannah?”

But four-year-olds have no attention span at all. Hannah had already abandoned both the conversation and her mermaid's scales for another project.

A teapot made of snow.

THEY SAID NECESSITY was the mother of invention, and that night at the Candlelight, Rose proved the truth of the axiom. Maddy couldn't remember ever being more delighted to be Rose DiFalco's daughter than she was that night as they all gathered around the huge dining room table and feasted on a meal of leftovers and fellowship.

Rose, her face pink from the heat of the stove and maybe from pleasure as well, sat at her accustomed place at the head of the table. She gestured for Maddy to take her place at the other end of the table, in the position of second-in-command of the Good Ship Romance. She noted that Rose had made sure Aidan was seated to her right while Maddy was flanked by Mr. Armagh and Aidan's daughter, Kelly. Rose had asked Maddy if Hannah could sit next to her in a special place of honor. Maddy was delighted, not only by the offer but by the fact that Rose had run it by her first.

Mrs. Armagh and Mrs. Loewenstein carried on a lively debate about which casino had the best buffet while Lucy and Mr. Loewenstein managed to plow through four large wedges of Rose's homemade focaccia between them, laughing together like co-conspirators.

Conversations overlapped as people talked over each other, under each other, and around each other. Verbal volleys flew from one side of the table to the other, and if you missed a comment the first time around, not to worry. Sooner or later somebody would bring you up to speed.

“So tell me about O'Malley's,” Mr. Armagh said when he caught Aidan's attention. “Is it one of those swell Irish bars with singing and darts?”

“And Guinness,” Mr. Loewenstein added. “Gotta have Guinness or it's no kind of bar I want to know about.”

Everyone laughed, Aidan most of all.

“Yeah, we have darts,” he said, catching Maddy's eye and grinning. “Our team took first place in Atlantic County three years running.” Whoops and hollers from the assembled diners. He raised his hand in a display of fake modesty that made everyone laugh. “The singing and the Guinness seem to go hand-in-hand.”

“Maybe we should stay another day,” Mrs. Loewenstein said. Maddy could almost hear Rose's groan clear across the table. “I'd like to see that place. I never knew a tavern owner before.”

“It's not much of a tavern,” Aidan said as Kelly rolled her eyes. “My brother and sister-in-law took it over years ago from our grandmother.”

Mrs. Armagh's brows shot toward the ceiling. “Your grandmother ran a bar?” She looked as if the idea had plenty of appeal.

Aidan explained about the original O'Malley's and the Hurricane of '52 and how what was once a restaurant renowned in four states evolved over time into a down-on-its-luck Irish tavern on the south side of Paradise Point. “We're pretty much back to basics these days,” he said. “Guinness, darts, and buffalo wings.”

“That selection ultimately limits your customer base,” Rose said. “I know your menu. You offer more than buffalo wings, but the list is still pretty basic.”

“I'm not a chef,” Aidan said, an edge slicing through his voice. “I learned to cook in a firehouse.”

“And some of the best cooks in the country are firefighters,” Rose said, not rising to the bait. “Did you ever think of hiring on another retired firefighter to help you out in the kitchen? All you'd have to do for the moment is add a few health-conscious salads and sandwiches to the mix, and I guarantee you'd bring in more business.”

“Maybe if I had your profit margin I could branch out, but we're barely hanging on.”

“There are still things you can do and stay within budget. Salads and sandwiches won't break the budget, Aidan.”

Suddenly Aidan looked interested. “What else?”

Rose hesitated. “Listen, what do I know? You know better than I how to run a bar. O'Malley's is an institution.”

“Yeah,” said Aidan, “and you know as well as I do that we've been running on history for a hell of a long time now. I'd appreciate your help, Rose.”

They were off and running. Everyone at the table had an opinion, and nobody was shy about expressing it. Maddy felt a strange combination of envy and pride at the sight of her mother and Aidan engrossed in animated conversation.

“She's something, isn't she?” Lucy almost sounded like a proud mother hen. “It's like she was born to run a business of her own.”

Maddy nodded. Truth was, she didn't trust herself to speak. Rose's openness and generosity were what really surprised her. Again she was left wondering if there had indeed been a sea change or if her own agenda had made her blind to her mother's many attributes.

“What do you think, Maddy?” Rose turned the force of her attentions down the table to her daughter. “You grew up here. You know the town as well as anyone.”

“I grew up here,” Maddy said, “but I haven't lived here in fifteen years. It's a whole different ball game.”

“That's even better,” Aidan said. “You have perspective but a fresh eye.”

“I haven't been inside O'Malley's in years,” she said. “All I remember are dark walls and a lot of old men playing darts in the corner.”

Aidan's grin was rueful. “That pretty much sums it up.”

“That's how a tavern's supposed to be,” Mr. Armagh piped up. “Bring in too much daylight and you ruin the magic.”

“There's some truth to what Mr. Armagh says,” Rose admitted, “but there are still ways you can offer customers something new and fresh and still stay within your operating budget.”

“The dock!” Maddy could see it right there in front of her.

Rose looked down the table toward Maddy. She positively beamed. “A few tables and chairs—”

“—a few umbrellas,” said Maddy, “and you're in business.”

“Like mother, like daughter,” Lucy said as everyone laughed. “It's in the blood.”

They peppered poor Aidan with a barrage of questions. What condition was the dock in? How much frontage did he have around back? How many slips could O'Malley's accommodate?

“Boat traffic?” he asked.

“Why not?” Rose countered. “And how about take-out for boaters? They fax ahead their orders and you have their chili or ribs or steamers ready for them when they arrive. Hire a few cute-looking college kids, both sexes, to deliver directly to the boats.”

Maddy saw it happen. A big smile spread across Aidan's face as Rose's ideas began to sink in and spawn ideas of his own. It turned out the Armaghs had run a small luncheonette up in Morristown for thirty years, and they had a lot to offer on the subject. The Loewensteins were both retired CPAs who could crunch numbers in their heads and never miss a beat of conversation. Mr. Loewenstein asked Aidan a few direct questions, then wrote down a few numbers on a sheet of paper provided by his wife. He handed it to Aidan.

“That'll give you some idea of what you'd need to start renovating. What you need is an exhaustive profit-and-loss statement to take with you to the bank when you go for financing.”

“Financing?” Aidan shook his head. “We do it on our own or we don't do it.”

It was Maddy's turn to jump in. “Financing makes perfect sense,” she said, donning her accountant's hat for a moment. “You don't want to invest all of your capital in a new venture.”

“What capital?” Aidan tossed back at her. “By the time we pay for goods and services, employee wages, and utilities, we're a half-step away from closing the door for good.”

“All the more reason for you to give some thought to broadening your scope,” Rose said, undaunted by reality. “It sounds to me like you don't have anything to lose.”

 
ROSE'S WORDS HIT Aidan hard.
You don't have anything to lose
. Maybe that wasn't such a bad thing after all. Jack Bernstein had warned him that O'Malley's was approaching the point of no return. Maybe they could eke out another five years the way things were, but then what? He was too young to think about retirement, and how the hell would Claire manage without the income, however small, that the bar provided?

Why not take a chance on expanding O'Malley's horizons? Why not kick open a few doors and windows and let the sun shine in? Rose DiFalco knew what she was talking about. One look at what she'd accomplished at the Candlelight would tell you that. And, to his everlasting surprise, he had the gut feeling she was playing straight with him. That she even liked him and wanted him to succeed.

Had she always been like this, or was he finally pushing aside the green-eyed monster and seeing her as a colleague and not as competition?

Besides, O'Malley's wasn't competition for the Candlelight and never would be, although why it had taken him so long to figure that out was anybody's guess.

There was something almost magical about the Candlelight. It wasn't hard to see what drew guests back time and time again. Rose had managed to create an atmosphere that was more homey than home itself, a world of soft lighting and rounded edges and good food and great conversation.

“Rose here told me that your grandmother is Irene O'Malley,” Mr. Armagh said, leaning across the table to be heard.

Aidan nodded. “She and my grandpa Michael ran a few restaurants down here.”

“I knew her,” Mr. Armagh said. “It was a heck of a long time ago, but I used to see her around the trade shows up in New York. Fine-looking woman in her day. I'm sorry to hear she's in the hospital.”

“You knew Grandma Irene?” Kelly almost leaped from her seat with excitement. “Did you know her well?”

“Sorry to say I didn't,” Mr. Armagh replied. “I was just starting out. Had two pushcarts near the courthouse in Newark, which was a far cry from what the O'Malleys were doing down here in Paradise Point. But I remember how she looked just like a movie star, all dolled up in a blue dress with a big blue”—he turned to his wife—“what do they call those hats?”

“Picture.”

“Picture hats with her blond hair brushing her shoulders.” He sighed audibly. “A fine-looking woman, that's for sure.”

“Did you ever talk to her?” Kelly pressed.

“A few times. She was real polite, don't get me wrong, but you got the feeling her mind was somewhere else.”

“You mean she was like that even then?”

“Like I said,” Mr. Armagh went on, “I didn't really know her. Just what I noticed about her from year to year.”

“I thought it was just because she was old.” Kelly swiveled in her chair to look at Aidan. “Was she like that when you were growing up?”

He nodded. “Your uncle Billy called it her dead-fish stare. She aimed it at Claire the day Billy introduced her as his fiancée. I don't think Claire ever forgave her for it.”

Rose quietly rose from the table and started to clear away the dishes. Maddy rose to her feet to help. He had the feeling the women were trying to create a zone of privacy for him by leaving the room, and the gesture touched him deeply.