Chapter 22

The wagon rumbled over the crest of the last knoll on the edge of Letterkenny town. This vantage point rewarded travelers with sweeping views of the hill-kissed terrain of northwest Donegal. To the southwest, the spire from the cathedral jutted high into the air, bidding all who would to come.

Mr. McGonigle urged the horses away from the Port Road that would carry them to Derry and beyond. He steered them, instead, to follow the main road as it wound in a gentle curve toward the city center.

He parked the rig at the entrance to Upper Main Street, and the group disembarked. Each released groans as they raised their weary bodies from the hard wooden seats. A symphony of cracks and pops rang out from Mr. McGonigle’s joints, followed by a look of sheer bliss. Though only a distance of thirty miles from Ballymann to Letterkenny, the journey had taken nearly three hours. The entire party was road weary yet excited for a day in town.

The men discussed their plans for the day’s business, and the women calculated their route among the few fabric and dressmaking shops along the thoroughfare. The party agreed to reconvene at one o’clock for the midday meal.

“Ma must see to some barters for the shop. She’s givin’ spuds in exchange fer other t’ings we can’t get back home,” Sinead said, linking her elbow in Moira’s. “That means you an’ me have some time ta take in the sights.”

After setting a time to meet Mrs. McGonigle at O’Toole’s Textiles, the two girls set off for a stroll along the cobbled main street.

A potpourri of baked goods and fresh meats and the pungent, unmistakable odor of coal spouting from nearly every chimney in the city center mingled in the brisk air. People milled about, wearing everything from the rags of poor farming families to the finest fashions this side of Dublin. The city was teeming with life and energy.

Moira breathed a wistful sigh. “I forgot how energizing a city can be.” She scanned the skyline, enjoying the sharp, geometric silhouettes of buildings against a hazy, smoky sky.

“Isn’t it simply splendid, like?” Sinead agreed. “I love comin’ to Letterkenny. There’s just so much to see and do. And eat!” She pulled Moira toward a confectionery shop window. The two girls oohed and aahed over the decadent treats displayed on dainty trays and tiered towers, agreeing to return following the meal for some tasty afters.

As they continued strolling along the direction of Lower Main Street, enjoying the sights each window offered, Moira gasped and ran to the main display window at O’Toole’s Textiles. Amid the bolts of vibrantly colored fabrics stood the most exquisite gown Moira had ever seen. The velvet bodice, a stunning shade of sea blue, hugged the form of the tailor’s dummy down to a dropped waistline. From there the skirt flowed in a simple A-line that just brushed the floor. A ring of delicate lace in the softest shade of peach adorned the ends of the sleeves. A fine cream-colored cotton apron with peach rosettes completed the ensemble.

Moira grabbed Sinead’s hand and gasped again. “Oh, Sinead, isn’t it lovely?” She clasped her other hand to her own chest, attempting to steady her heartbeat.

Sinead pressed a hand to her forehead. “Great Mary, is it grand!” She turned to face Moira and jerked her arm until their eyes met. “Ya hafta try it on, so. Oh, you’d be such a sight in it.”

Moira shook her head. “I’d love to, but there’s no way I could justify the money for a premade gown such as this.” She gazed at the dress with longing.

“I didna say ya had to buy it, like. I only said ta try it on!” She grabbed Moira’s hand and dragged her into the shop.

The woman behind the counter greeted them. “Good morning to ye, ladies.”

“Hiya. My friend here would like ta try on that lovely blue frock in the window.” Sinead grinned and shoved Moira front and center.

Moira offered a chagrined smile accompanied by a soft laugh.

“Oh, that’s a lovely choice, so it is. I admire it myself. It’s only gone up yesterday. And with your eyes, it should really be stunning on ye.” The shopkeep rambled on as she removed the dress from the dummy and led Moira to the changing stall. She hung the dress on a hook and slid the curtain closed with a deft flick of her wrist.

Moira ran her fingers along the sleeve, reveling in the luxurious softness of the velvet. She had never owned a gown as lovely as this, and her heart ached at the sight of it. Taking care not to soil or tear the rich fabric, she dressed and tied the apron around her waist. Even without a looking glass, she already felt like royalty.

“C’mon now, are ye gonna show me or make me wait till I’m as old as me ma?”

Moira laughed and slid the curtain aside.

Sinead’s mouth fell open, and her dimpled hands flew to her cheeks. “Great Mary, ya look like the mistress of the castle!”

Moira’s cheeks warmed, and she smoothed the flat of her hands over the apron again and again.

The shopkeep guided Moira to a tall mirror in the center of the store. She blinked at her reflection. Never had she felt so beautiful.

“G’on, now. Give us a twirl.” Sinead pirouetted with a flourish.

With slow, marked steps, Moira spun. Keeping her eyes on the looking glass as long as possible, she admired how the dress hugged her form and flowed effortlessly as she moved. It was as if it had been custom-made for her. Movement in the street caught her eye. A figure was heading toward the shop.

Sean set a brisk pace to the textile shop. He was tasked with keeping the ladies abreast of the plan, and he didn’t want to lose the table he’d booked for lunch in the process. Thankfully, he’d reached O’Toole’s in record time. He could see the silhouettes of Sinead and Moira through the lace-curtained window before he stepped inside.

“Hello, ladies. I wanted to let you know—” The words caught in his throat as Moira spun to face him. All thoughts of business and timetables evaporated.

A captivating vision stood before him in a blue dress. Though it wasn’t the dress that caught his attention. It was her eyes. He didn’t know if it was because of the shade of blue she wore, or joy he hadn’t seen in them before, but her eyes glowed like jade in sunlight. Why had he come here? What was he intending to tell them? All that existed in the world at that moment was Moira, standing there, looking at him, a beguiling smile gracing her porcelain face.

“Moira,” he said at last, taking a step toward her. “You look . . . you look brilliant.”

Moira dipped her head and looked up at him through dark lashes. “Thank you.” Her voice was barely audible, and color kissed her cheeks. The two stood looking at one another, Sean grinning like a fool but unable to will his eyes to turn away.

Sinead’s face popped up in front of his. He blanched.

“Yeah, she’s a sight, isn’t she? So, what’re ya doin’ in a shop for women, like?”

Sean stared at the grocer’s daughter, stunned.

She stared back at him, an eyebrow cocked and foot tapping impatiently.

“Right. I’ve booked us a table at The Central Bar—but if we’re to keep it, we must make haste. It’s a bit earlier than we’d planned, but it’s all they had.” He cleared his throat, tipped his hat, and burst from the shop like a spring lamb, the cool air a welcome shock to his heated face. Grateful to be out of that shop, and out from under Moira’s mesmerizing gaze.