Page 39 of Dublin Debacle

“Can’t be worse than in the heat of battle,” he said.

“I guess not,” Emily said. “Okay, then. You’re hired.”

“Where do you want me to start?”

“You can start by emptying that box of beer into the refrigerator under the bar.”

For the next few hours, they restocked the bar, set the chairs down around the tables and staged food in the kitchen. Emily’s cook, Moira, showed up in time to get fish and chips frying, mix and bake shepherd’s pie and prepare bangers and mash.

When Emily introduced Jack to the middle-aged woman with a jolly face and thick girth, she said, “Moira is the best cook in the city. You have to try everything, but my favorite is her seafood chowder.”

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Moira,” Jack said.

“Same to ya, Jack,” Moira said. She raised her hand to block her face as she leaned toward Emily and said, “He’s a looker. Is he sweet on ya?”

Emily’s face turned a bright shade of pink. “Moira, don’t go getting any ideas. He’s here to help with game night.”

“He’s a handsome lad,” Moira said with a sweep of her gaze over his length. “You could do worse.”

“Seriously,” Emily said, her cheeks even redder. “We only met last night.”

“When it comes to love, when you know you know.” Moira winked at Jack. “Am I right?”

Jack chuckled. “Yes, ma’am.”

Emily ducked out of the kitchen, shaking her head and muttering something about too many cooks in the kitchen.

Once Moira had a steaming pot of chowder ready on the stove, Emily had her serve up two heaping bowls, along with freshly baked bread for them to eat a late lunch.

The soup base was creamy and flavorful, and the chunks of different kinds of seafood melted in Jack’s mouth. He moaned his appreciation.

Emily grinned. “Right? Moira’s chowder is pure magic.”

The cook emerged from the kitchen, flushed with the heat of cooking. “Do you like it?”

Jack rose from his chair and engulfed the woman in a bear hug. “Will you marry me?”

She laughed and swatted his arm. “Don’t be daft. I already have a husband. One’s enough for me to take care of.” The woman laughed her way back to the kitchen, happy and smiling.

Emily grinned. “Is that all it takes for you to propose? A premium bowl of seafood chowder?”

“You know what they say?—”

“The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach?”

He shook his head. “There is no sincerer love than the love of food.”

Emily’s eyebrows rose. “Quoting George Bernard Shaw now?” She shook her head. “You are an enigma.”

He winked. “I do like to keep you guessing.”

As they finished their chowder, Emily’s two waitresses arrived.

Daphne’s gaze swept him from head to toe. “So, our girl Emily didn’t scare you off by getting into fights in the alley?”

Jack shook his head. “Not at all. I like a woman who isn’t afraid of a fight.”

Daphne bunched her fists and held them in a fighting position. “I like a good fight,” she said. “As long as we get to the part of kissin’ and makin’ up.”

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