“Next week,” I said firmly to myself, “I will be all business again.”
I had just said the words when the doorbell rang. I waited, then realized that Sid and Gus were not back from the market. They made a pilgrimage there every morning, returning with exotic fruits and armfuls of flowers. I jumped up and ran to answer the door.
I found myself staring up at the beautiful face of Ryan O'Hare.
He looked as surprised as I was. “You're not Sid or Gus. Don't tell me I've come to the wrong address.” He looked around him. “No. I recognize the bay trees. And you can't be the maid. You look most unmaidlike. So what have you done with them?”
“They're—out at the market,” I stammered. “I'm Molly, their house guest.”
“Confound it,” he said, his face falling. “And here am I, about to die for lack of nourishment, desperate for a cup of their Turkish coffee.”
“I don't expect they'll be long,” I said. “Won't you come in and wait?”
“Why not—especially when there is the opportunity to be entertained by such a delightful fresh face. I'm Ryan, by the way, and I've seen you before.”
“In O'Connor's saloon,” I said. “You winked at me.”
“And you blushed. It was quite charming. Lead the way then, Molly.”
I opened the front door wider and he stepped inside.
“I don't suppose you know how to make Turkish coffee?” he asked expectandy as I led him through to the conservatory.
“I'm afraid not.”
“But you could possibly find me a morsel of something to eat before I pass out.” He smiled endearingly. He had the most enchanting smile. His whole face lit up and his dark eyes flashed.
“There are some rolls left from breakfast,” I said. “And I can furnish butter and jam. Will that do?”
I went into the kitchen and came out with a tray for him. As I set it in front of him he took my hand, brought it to his lips and kissed it. “You are an absolute angel,” he said. “I am your devoted servant for life.”
I was annoyed at myself for blushing. How did one learn to become worldly?
“I knew I'd be fed and nurtured here,” he said. “I haven't been out all week, you know, trying to finish the blasted play. I've barely stopped to eat or drink. In fact, if good old Lennie hadn't brought me a pastrami sandwich last night, it might have been too late. My whitened bones would have been discovered on the floor of my hotel room.”
I laughed, making his attempted woeful expression dissolve into a smile.
“So tell me about yourself, Molly. To be sure but you're from old sod itself, begorra and all that sort of thing?”
Still smiling, I told him I was newly arrived from county Mayo.
“And were sensible enough to come straight to the only part of the city worth living in,” he finished for me. “The rest of America is full of boors and philistines who don't know a good play from a piece of trash. Show a few legs, make a few suggestive jokes and they'll call your play a hit. But anything subtle, anything that delves into the true depths of human nature the American public will pronounce boring and suggest it needs a buffalo stampede in Act Two to liven it up.” He leaned back in his wicker chair, studying me. “Lovely hair,” he said. He reached over and lifted a strand. “The color of fire. Dangerous hair. Are you dangerous, Miss Molly?”
“Only to those who betray me.”
“Ah, then I had better profess my lifelong devotion right now. So tell me, Miss Molly, what do you do with yourself, or are you a creature of leisure?”
“I'm hoping to establish myself as a writer,” I said. I was tempted to add that I was currently involved in solving the murder of a dear friend, but lost my nerve at the last minute. Besides, I found it hard to imagine this delightful man leaping out with a knife and delivering one efficient and fatal blow.
“I knew the moment I set eyes on you that we had much in common,” he said, still gazing at me. “A fellow Irishwoman and a fellow writer too. Our paths were truly destined to cross. It was fated in the stars.” He took another bite of roll, wiped the crumbs from his black velvet jacket, then asked, “So is there a great love in your life at the moment, Molly, my darling?”
“None at all, sir,” I said, then, emboldened by his familiarity, I asked, “How about you?”
“Alas not. I am between affaires, as the French say. Unfortunately they never last long with me. I am destined to fall madly in love only to become bored to tears a week later. Of course, if I ever meet my true soul mate, it will be different.”
“I’m beginning to wonder whether soul mates exist,” I said.
“Such cynicism in one so young and lovely. I've been out in the world longer than you have and still entertain the forlorn hope that one day I will find true and lasting bliss.”
I was disappointed to hear the sound of voices in the front hall and Sid and Gus swept down on us.