It was nearly dark as Maura drove along the Ballinlough road toward the village of Leap, where Sullivan’s occupied a central place on the village’s only main street. The building had stood there for centuries, leaning against a rock face behind, and its former owner, Mick Sullivan—usually known as Old Mick—had done his best not to change anything at all in the decades he’d managed it. In a way, Maura could understand that: if there was an Irish equivalent of “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” the shabby dark pub fit the bill. She had followed the same rule when she’d found out that Old Mick had left her the pub in his will, thanks to an agreement he and her grandmother had come to without ever bothering to mention it to her. Maura had always been wary of new situations, so she’d taken her time sizing up the place before deciding on any changes—or whether any changes were needed.

The staff had already been in place, and all had stayed, much to Maura’s relief. “Young” Mick, in his midthirties, was the quiet mainstay of the place. Jimmy was less dependable, but he came as a package deal with his young daughter, Rose, barely seventeen, a sweet kid who was pretty enough to draw in some customers. Then there was Old Billy Sheahan, a longtime friend of Mick’s who, thanks to a deal with Old Mick, enjoyed free rent in his tiny rooms at the end of the old building, not to mention a steady supply of fresh pints of Guinness. But Maura had quickly recognized that Billy was an asset: he knew everybody and everything about them and the region and its history, and Maura wasn’t sure she would have survived the first few months without his steady guiding hand. Along the way, he had become the grandfather she had never had, and he was welcome to keep his warm corner by the pub’s fire as long as he wanted it.

The pub was a small place with room for no more than two hundred people (which was also about the total population of the village) if they crowded together and used all the available space in the pub, but the people kept coming, first out of curiosity to see what the new young American girl would do with the place, and then because it seemed that they actually liked her—and because she hadn’t changed things much. The only real change was that Maura had brought back Irish music to the place, a long-standing tradition that Old Mick had let lapse in his later years. The music attracted a few younger faces and a greater number of women, but it didn’t really change the feeling of the place. And that was fine.

Maura parked her car on the street and walked into Sullivan’s, drawn by the warm glow of the windows facing the street. She was greeted by the familiar odor of smoke—a heady mixture of burning peat and wood—topped off with a bit of stale beer, a dollop of woolens that hadn’t been washed since fall, and a dash of cow. She raised a hand to Billy in his accustomed seat, and he smiled at her before going back to his conversation with two men she didn’t recognize. She made her way to the bar, where Rose and Mick were keeping moderately busy filling pints and making coffee from the gleaming stainless-steel machine—it had been languishing in the cellar under Old Mick, and bringing it upstairs and getting it running was another positive change she’d made.

“How’s Gillian?” Rose asked, watching her row of pints settle with an experienced eye.

“Large. Kind of overwhelmed with all the stuff that has to be done at the house, and she can’t begin to do most of it in her current condition.”

“And where’s Harry, then?” Rose asked.

“Drumming up work, she says.”

“Is he serious, do yeh think?”

“About staying around? Staying with Gillian? I hope so, to both. I think they’re still kind of feeling their way along with all these changes. Are you too busy to talk for a minute?”

Rose checked out the room. It looked like most of the men held glasses that were at least half full. “I’ve time enough, I’d say. Can I make you a coffee?”

“Please.” Maura watched for a few moments as Rose set the machine to brewing a single cup for her.

After a couple of minutes, Rose slid it in front of where Maura was perched on a barstool. “Yeh wanted to talk about something? Yeh’re not thinkin’ of firin’ me, are yeh?”

“Good heavens, no!” Maura protested, laughing. “Not unless I know you’ve got something better lined up, or you decide to leave your da to Judith and head for the big city. Why don’t we move to that corner? It’s a little more private.”

Once they were settled, it was Rose who picked up the thread. “I’ve been thinkin’ . . . No, that’s fer another time. What were you after talking about?”

“Gillian. And Harry. There are things that have to be done, since they’ve got to leave Mycroft Hall and move into their new place soon, and even together they don’t have the time or energy to get everything done. And not enough money to hire people. So, when I was driving back down here, I was wondering if we could put together some sort of shower for them.”

Rose cocked her head, looking curious. “A baby shower, are yeh thinkin’? That’s pretty much an American thing. Here there’s some that still hold it’s bad luck to bring any baby things into the house before the child is born.”

“What, the poor kid has to come home with not a thing to wear? That doesn’t seem right. And I’m thinking not just a baby shower but more. Sure, Gillian needs stuff for the baby, and she won’t mind hand-me-downs, but Harry’s not very handy around the house. He’s never had to be. You think it might be possible to put together a shower with the guys, maybe out at the house, where they do some of the heavier work? I mean, we don’t have to call it a shower. It’s like another American custom: a barn-raising. All the neighbors get together and help build the frame for a new barn. It takes a lot of people to raise it and nail it together. Or so I’m told—I don’t know of many barns in Boston.”

“I’ve not heard of that, but I like it. And instead of tea and little cakes, you give ’em a keg and bread and cheese?” Rose grinned. “Maybe an all-day thing, where they could drop by and put in a couple of hours each. Ní neart go cur le chéile, right?”

“Huh? Is that Irish?”

“It is. They made us learn a bit of it in school. The words mean something like ‘there is strength in unity,’ but the idea is that yeh’re better off workin’ together.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking. When would be a good time? We’ve got to get the place warm and dry before they bring the baby home.”

“More important, when’s the baby due?”

“I don’t know the exact date, but probably too soon. So we should jump on this ASAP?”

“I’d say so. And the men’ll get caught up in their spring chores soon enough. Shall I ask Judith what she thinks?”

“Please! How’re she and your dad getting on?”

Rose laughed. “I’d say she has him well in hand.”

“Have they set a date yet, or don’t they plan to?”

“Judith won’t let him slip away that easy. Before summer, I’d say.”

“Where is he, by the way?”

“She has him out today looking at cows to add to her herd.”

Maura laughed. “That I’d like to see. Well, think about the shower idea, will you? Do you need a break, now that I’m here?”

“Let me run over the road and pick up a bite fer me supper. Judith will feed me da.”

After Rose slipped out on her errand, there was a brief lull, and Mick came over to talk to Maura. “There was a call fer yeh while yeh were gone.”

“On the pub phone, you mean? Who was it?” Calls on the pub’s landline were rare.

“Business, it seems. Some muckety-muck from a company I’d never heard of asked to speak to the owner. I said yeh were out, but yeh’d call them back later.”

“Am I supposed to call tonight?”

“I’m guessing the mornin’ will do well enough.”

“And that’s all they said?” Those few times the pub’s landline rang, rarely was it a call for her. “They didn’t tell you why they wanted to talk to me?”

“That they did not. Don’t worry yerself about it, Maura. They probably want to sell you something.”

“Then it’ll be easy to say no, since we haven’t enough money to buy much of anything.”

The next time Maura looked up, Garda Sean Murphy was coming in, followed by another garda she’d never seen before. Trouble? Sean didn’t look anxious, so it couldn’t be too bad. When he was close enough to be heard, he said in an oddly formal way, “Maura, I’d like you to meet Sergeant Conor Ryan. He’ll be joinin’ us at the Skibbereen station, and I’m showin’ him around, like.” He turned to his companion. “Sergeant, this is Maura Donovan—she’s the owner of this fine place fer the last year. But her family’s from up toward Drinagh.”

The new sergeant extended his hand. “Good to meet yeh, Miss Donovan.” His handshake was firm and no-nonsense.

“Welcome,” Maura said. “It’ll be nice to know someone who’s newer around here than I am. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?”

Sean looked at the sergeant for guidance. Conor Ryan gave a small nod, then sat, and Sean happily took a seat next to him. Maura put two and two together and realized that the new garda was senior to Sean, although Sean had been at the Skibbereen station for more than a year. Maura nodded at Rose to start two coffees, then turned back to the men. “Are you from around here, Sergeant?”

“I’ve just been transferred from the big station in Limerick.”

“I’ve never been there. The pub here keeps me busy, so I don’t do a lot of sightseeing. Are you enjoying Skibbereen?”

“I can’t say as I know it well yet. Yeh’re American, are yeh not?”

“I am, from Boston. But my father was born here.”

“Yeh’re young to be running a place like this.”

Rose handed Maura two cups of coffee, and she slid them across the bar to the men before answering.

“I inherited it from a relative of my grandmother’s. Luckily, I had some experience with bars back in the States, and I’ve had help learning how things work here.” She realized with some surprise that the man hadn’t smiled yet. She had a feeling that if she’d committed a crime, she’d be feeling pretty guilty right now, which was ridiculous. He was, well, kind of scary. She wondered why he had left Limerick—had it been his decision or someone else’s? “Well, I hope you like Skibbereen.” Should she compliment Sean on his policing skills, or would that open up a whole can of worms? She didn’t feel like explaining how it had come about that she knew the Skibbereen gardaí so well.

She was relieved when Sergeant Ryan cut off the conversation and he turned to Sean. “Murphy, we have other stops to make, do we not?”

“Of course.” They both drained the half-finished coffees, and Sean slid some coins across the bar. “Ta, Maura,” he said.

“Good night, Sean. Nice to meet you, Sergeant.” He didn’t respond. Not exactly a warm and friendly guy.

She watched as the two men left. From the rear, they looked oddly mismatched: Sean was not particularly tall, fairly slender, and plainly the younger of the two. This sergeant person was taller, definitely broader, and seemed to be made of granite. His back was arrow straight, and he looked as though he was absorbing every detail of her pub without even moving his head. And he definitely made her uncomfortable.

Mick came up behind her at the bar. “What was that about?” he asked quietly.

“New guy at the Skibbereen gardaí, it seems. I’ll have to find out more from Sean. Did we need more gardaí around here? I thought crime was pretty low,” Maura commented.

“Maybe it wasn’t his choice. Where’d he say he’s from?”

“Limerick.”

“Ah,” Mick said. “Rough place, that. He’ll probably be bored here in a week. But maybe someone wanted him here or wanted him out of his former station. I wouldn’t want to cross him.”

“I know what you mean,” Maura told him.

The evening flowed on at its usual pace. Rose came back with her supper; Mick went out to find some of his own. In between pulling pints, Maura reviewed her own to-do list. She had survived winter in her cottage thanks to Mick, who had shown her how the heating system worked. The pub was generally cleaner than it had been when she arrived. She was still learning how to attract musical groups to play. So far they’d sort of invited themselves once they’d heard that Sullivan’s was having music again, but that wasn’t a long-term solution. From what Maura had heard from other people her age, mostly back in Boston, you had to promote on social media to bring in customers, and she’d never had the time or seen the need to mess around with that. Did it make sense to learn now?

Jimmy came in around seven, looking peeved, but that was Jimmy’s usual expression. Nothing ever seemed to make him happy, and that included his job and now his lady friend. Well, Jimmy’s happiness was not her problem, Maura reminded herself. All she needed from him was that he show up more or less on time for his shift and do what he was supposed to do. Maura had a sneaking suspicion that Rose was preparing herself to make a move in a new direction—maybe that was what she had hinted at earlier?—and once she did, Maura wouldn’t feel obligated to keep Jimmy on board. Heck, if business kept getting better now that there was the music, she might find more people wanted to work at Sullivan’s.

Would it be worth the effort to serve food at Sullivan’s? Full meals? Lunches only? What kind of staff would that take? Would she have to upgrade the equipment? What permits would she need?

Now she remembered again why she kept shoving the whole idea on a shelf and ignoring it. She would talk to Rose about it—later.