“Tip top.” He looks to my right, and I turn my head to bring Erin into the fold. “This is my best friend, Erin. She’s from around here.”
She reaches out a hand to shake his. “Dublin, actually. Lovely to meet ye.”
“And you, dear. So it is,” he says, putting his bent and boney hand in hers. “It’s entirely my pleasure to make your acquaintance. Mrs. O’Grady said I should be expecting ye this evenin’.” He smiles and his face folds up into an origami old man, a thousand complicated creases I never saw coming.
“She did, huh?” says Erin. “Well, see, I think there’s been some sort of misunderstanding.”
“Is that so?” He doesn’t seem surprised. Gesturing to two nearby chairs, he smiles. “Why don’t ye take a seat and tell me all about it.”
I keep my laughter inside, but turn my head so Erin won’t see me enjoying this too much. She’s really frustrated right now and this whole thing reminds me of a little girl in front of the principal explaining how she doesn’t need something she’s about to get anyway. Being a spectator in her misery is way better than being a participant in my own. I know that makes me a terrible person, but I can’t help my very strong aversion to being made a fool of by a guy.
Erin sits down and folds her hands in her lap, leaving her beer on the corner of the bar top. “You see, I already have a boyfriend, Mr. O’Henry, and so it would be entirely inappropriate for me to submit myself to a matchmaker’s services, as I’m sure you can imagine.”
“Tell me about him,” says the matchmaker, drawing his eyebrows together in concentration, leaning over a bit.
Erin’s eyes go really round, but she soldiers on, digging her grave of lies that much deeper. “Well, he’s very handsome.”
She pauses, maybe hoping this will be enough, but Mr. O’Henry just nods.
“And he’s very smart.”
“He’d have to be, to keep up with you, I imagine.” He winks.
Erin smiles but looks uncomfortable. I would too if I were in her shoes. This guy is being very nice while she sits there and lies right to his face.
“And he’s … entrepreneurial.”
“Ah, and that’s important to ye, is it?”
She nods way too much. “Oh yeah, because I’m a business owner too so we need to be able to understand each other, have the same ambitions and so on.”
“Yes, that is very important in a good match. But then there’s the yang yin. Are ye familiar with the yang yin?”
I laugh but then catch myself, turning it into a cough. What on earth is this guy talking about? How does a centenarian living in the middle-of-nowhere Ireland know about Chinese culture?
Erin blinks a few times, processing. “Yes, I know what yin and yang is. I’m not sure what that has to do with my boyfriend.”
“I believe, for ye to be truly happy, ye must find the complimentary opposite to yerself. The yang to your yin. Ye’re a lively, driven, intelligent girl. The perfect man for you will be anchored, driven too, but connected to his roots. He will help ye feel secure as ye soar on the wind he places beneath yer wings.”
“Uhhhh, okaaay.” She turns to me and gives me her crazy googly eyes. Normally it’s a sign that I need to get her away from wherever she is before she starts getting a little too mouthy, but I’m not exactly sure that’s the best idea right now. This guy knows Erin almost as well as I know her, apparently. He’s right when he says she needs an anchor. She can be a little … untethered sometimes. I used to just write it off as part of who she is, but now I’m wondering where it came from. Maybe it’s from the fact that she left her homeland and seems so determined to keep it in her past. And now that I’ve been here, I realize keeping Ireland dead and buried would be an impossibility. It’s already sneaking into my blood and I’ve only been here a couple days.
“Would ye like me to have a look?” he asks.
“A look? At what?” Erin seems worried, like maybe he’s asking her to strip for an examination. Even I’m a little confused until he rubs his hand across the worn leather of his log book.
“To see if there’s someone who might suit?” he explains.
Erin stands in a hurry. “No, no thanks. I’m … busy. I’m not on the market. I’m … taken.” She turns around abruptly, knocking her chair to the side before leaving me in a cloud of her dust. She disappears into the ladies’ bathroom before I get my voice back.
“Uhhh, that was … surprising.”
“I’ve upset her,” Mr. O’Henry says frowning.
I wave his concern off. “Nah, don’t worry about it. She’s just nervous about her family and stuff.” I don’t want to tell him it’s the inheritance issue because of client confidentiality reasons. This town is microscopically small where gossip is concerned, and I know Erin wants all this kept on the down low. It’s the only way she’ll get a fair price for the other half of her bar.
“And what about you, Lass? Are you looking for a match?”
“Me?” I laugh, suddenly feeling a bit nervous. Now I’m getting an inkling about what Erin went through, and her disappearance is making way more sense. “No, that’s okay. I’ve got it handled.”
“Do ye now?” He tilts his head to the side and smiles a tiny smile.
“Well, kind of.” The way he’s looking at me makes me want to confess all my failures in the love department, but I resist. “I’m pretty busy with my career now, so there’s really no time for love and me. But maybe in the future.”
“You’ve never met anyone you felt close to, without even knowing him that well?”
I open my mouth to answer, but stop before the sound actually makes it out because I notice Mr. O’Henry has flicked a glance over my shoulder.
I turn slowly to see what pulled his attention from me, and I see Donal standing in the background with a pint in his hand. He’s looking up at the ceiling.
I blink a few times and shake my head, bringing my attention back to Mr. O. “I don’t think so.” It’s a total lie, but he’ll never know. I suddenly feel the very strong need to pee, so I stand. “I need to check on Erin. Thanks so much for your time and for the referral to the attorney. We’re going to see him tomorrow.”
“Didn’t work out for ye today, then?” he asks, a smile in his voice.
I feel myself blushing. “No, it’s Sunday.”
“’Tis.”
“Irish lawyers don’t work on Sundays, apparently.”
“No, not generally.”
I feel like a complete moron standing here talking like a third-grader. I’ve completely lost my cool and I don’t know why. I’m going to blame it on Donal pretending like he doesn’t know me when he most definitely does know me. Or does he? The me he met today is not the normal me, so maybe he doesn’t know me at all. Or he’s the only one who knows me. Argh, I’m too confused to figure it out, so I decide to abandon ship.
I hold out my hand. “Goodbye, Mr. O’Henry. It was nice seeing you again.”
“And you, Ridlee, dear,” he says, shaking my hand. His skin is warm and his grip surprisingly firm. “Should ye feel the need to discuss yer match with me, I’m available to ye at yer convenience.”
“My match?”
He puts his hand on the book in front of him. “Yes. Yer match. The man who makes yer heart race and yer smile shine.”
I point at him and wink. “Yin yang.”
He smiles and nods. “Yin yang. Ye’ve got it.”
I walk as fast as I can away from him without looking like I’m running, headed straight for the bathroom.
Erin’s on her way out and the door hits us both as I try to force her back.
“Ridlee, what the hell …?”
“Get in, get in, I need to talk to you.” I’m flustered and panicked, suddenly desperately in need of shelter from all the eyes in the bar, especially one particular set of them.
She lets me in and we close the door behind me. There’s one sink and mirror to my right and a single walled-off toilet stall next to it. The towel holder is to my left.