seventy-one

After the egg hunt and words of welcome from Liam, Merrit parked herself in one of two chairs in her matchmaking station. A red velvet cordon marked it off and dozens of balloons floated overhead. After her kerfuffle with Mrs. O’Brien, Merrit had let her have her way. All the fanfare and tradition she desired. Now Merrit felt like a sideshow freak rather than the main attraction. One of those odd-looking, lonely ones gawkers loved to stare at from afar.

On the bright side, she wasn’t nervous anymore. It didn’t look as if she would be in demand. The childless adults began gathering mid-afternoon when the bar opened. Mrs. O’Brien had ordered Merrit’s station to be positioned within spitting distance of the alcohol, which didn’t surprise Merrit.

She was allowed to leave her little prison, of course, but for the moment she preferred to sit here, removed from the chaos. Elder Joe flashed through her mind. His pronouncement about sheep and lambs still bothered her.

Marcus appeared out of the crowd and joined her. “You look thoughtful; a nice look for a matchmaker.”

She scooted closer to him. “You caught me pondering something Elder Joe said before he died. I thought it might be a clue to his death, but I can’t remember his exact words—something about lambs and sheep. ‘You won’t be a sheep if you’re not a lamb’?”

Marcus slapped his thigh with a burst of laughter. “Bloody beautiful, that. Let me guess, ‘hung for a sheep as a lamb’?’”

“That’s it. ‘Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb,’ she said. What does that mean?”

“It goes back to the days when stealing a sheep or a lamb was a capital offense. What were you talking about when EJ said it?”

“He’d invited me to have tea with him, but I begged off. He accused me of being ‘that way.’”

“Ay, that Elder Joe had his own way of talking. It doesn’t make no bother, what he said. Why should it?”

“But it is bothering me.”

“Well then.” He hesitated. “People can tell you’re not invested in your life here. You’re aloof. By the lamb business, he meant if you’re going to live here, then go all the way in as a sheep, not a lamb.”

“That makes no sense.” She waved her arms to encompass her matchmaking station. “I’m more here than I sometimes want to be.”

“Bingo. You think others don’t feel that?” He patted her arm. “No use spitting tacks over it.”

“Spitting tacks.” Another Irish-ism to store into memory. “Let’s change the topic.”

“Easy enough. What’s the craic with the matchmaking?”

“I don’t know whether to be insulted that no one has talked to me or relieved. For some reason, I’d thought this might be the day I’d be reborn in the eyes of the locals.”

“It might help if you smiled and called attention to yourself.”

In other words, she thought, participate as a sheep, not a lamb, which was the opposite point she’d tried to make to Mrs. O’Brien and then to Liam when she’d offended them: this was not her way. Someone like Zoe would relish putting on a show, but not Merrit.

“Give them time to get used to you,” Marcus said.

Merrit let that statement go. Time didn’t have the same meaning for the Irish as it did for her. “How about you? Do you want to get married again? I’ve wondered.”

He pursed his lips. “I haven’t given it much thought.”

Liar, Merrit thought. “You’ve mentioned Edna Dooley before. Father Dooley’s sister, right?”

Marcus smiled, looking nostalgic. “Ay, quite a bit older than he, she being the eldest of the Dooley pack and he the youngest. She’s a good soul.”

Merrit pretended to remember something. “As a matter of fact, she’s one of the volunteers helping Mrs. O’Brien.” Without being obvious about it, she observed Marcus as he straightened his posture. “Could you do me a favor?” she said.

“Anything.”

“Fetch me a plate of food? No hurry, though. There’s a lot going on.”

Marcus would know what she was about as soon as he arrived at the food tables and discovered Edna Dooley overseeing the caterers, who had arrived not long ago to augment the potluck with platters of finger foods.

Danny’s children ran by with their faces painted like cats. They bumped past Nathan, who grabbed a tent pole for support. Merrit stood and stretched and, catching Nathan’s eye, beckoned him to sit with her. He obliged with a blank, faraway expression. Once seated, his gaze prowled over the people passing back and forth in front of them.

“Where’s Zoe?” she said. “She promised to be my first client. Not that she needs me. She has no trouble meeting men.” She paused but couldn’t think of a subtle way to drop Sid into the conversation. “Like her friend Sid.”

Nathan stiffened.

“He’s here, isn’t he?” she said.

Nathan nodded.

“Please don’t do anything stupid. Promise me.”

Nathan nodded again. He clenched his hands and set his jaw as a wind gust battered the marquee.

“Stay here,” Merrit said. “You need food. Promise me you won’t move.”

Nathan’s head jerked in what Merrit took to be yet another nod of assent. She weaved her way toward the food tables, passing Marcus and Edna Dooley. She couldn’t hear her own thoughts over the sound of the wind and the rat-a-tat of a fresh bout of hail.

Merrit shoveled meatballs and mashed potatoes onto a paper plate and gathered utensils, all the while scouting the area for Danny.

Mrs. O’Brien stepped up beside her. Avoiding eye contact, she announced that she’d called the marquee company. “Someone needs to secure the marquee against the wind.”

“Thanks.” Merrit spoke fast before Mrs. O’Brien walked away. “Thanks for everything. Really. Even the matchmaking station.”

Merrit beelined to where Danny sat with Mandy and Petey in one of the lounge areas. The children waved and showed her their various prizes and eggs and Easter chocolates, delight overcoming even Mandy’s resistance to Merritt. Danny stood.

“Sid and Nathan are here,” Merrit said. “That can’t be good.”

“I know. I’m keeping an eye on him.” He indicated Sid standing in the alcohol line. “I’ve lost Nathan, though.”

“He’s with me, but I’d better get back to him. He’s almighty tense.” Wind batted hail pellets against the glass next to them. “The noise is putting him more on edge.” Merrit turned and almost bumped into Joe Junior.

“I fancy giving your matchmaking skills a try,” he said.

“Later, okay? I promise.” She dodged around the drinkers in the bar quadrant. But when she reached her matchmaking station, Nathan was gone.