Page 22 of Firecracker

A harried-looking woman appeared behind the bar, young, pretty, with red hair and freckles. Arden looked back and forth between her and Liam and immediately knew they were brother and sister. “Liam,” the woman said. “I need three more Guinness and a Bud Light.”

Liam grimaced and moved away.

The girl shoved her hair off her face, darting around behind the bar to grab bundles of cutlery wrapped in paper napkins and a stack of menus, then disappeared again.

Arden turned her attention to the framed sign on the wall that read:

In all this world, why I do think

There are five reasons why we drink:

Good friends,

good wine,

lest we be dry,

and any other reason why.

She smiled and lifted her beer in a small toast, then sipped. She liked this place.

More people were leaving as the lunch crowd apparently finished up, and the place grew slightly quieter. She pulled out her phone to keep herself busy, feeling a little self-conscious by herself.

“So,a chara.” Liam paused in front of her. “I’ve not seen you here before. New in the neighborhood?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.” She smiled at him. “I grew up in Chicago, but I just moved back.”

“And where have you been living till now?”

“Phoenix.”

“Ah. A touch warmer than here. Especially in winter.”

“Yes. But I can handle Chicago winters.”

While he was friendly, she didn’t feel he was flirting with her, so she was quite comfortable talking to him.

“I’m Liam Murphy. I own this joint.” He extended a hand.

She shook it. “Oh, I didn’t realize you own it. Seems like a popular place.”

“That it is.”

“I’m Arden. Arden Hughes. I’m living with my brother and his friends just a few blocks from here.”

“Lovely to meet you, Arden.”

The young waitress returned in a rush and set a hand on her hip. “Where are those drinks, Liam?”

“Oops.” He flashed a wry grin. “Excuse me.”

Arden nodded and watched them work together, the girl’s exasperation affectionate, both of them obviously familiar with each other and with the bar.

Moments later, Liam served her fish and chips, sliding the big plate across the polished wooden bar. It smelled amazing. “Here you are, love. Enjoy.”

“Thanks.”

She picked up the cutlery and dug in, and damn, he was right…this was good. The fish was firm and flaky with a crisp batter, and the fries were golden and hot. Even the coleslaw, usually added as a passing nod to veggies, was good, with a tangy dressing.

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