Chapter 16: After

The clapping died out one table at a time.

Every man in the Anchor knew what Senan's smile cost.

I walked to the corner booth and stood over him.

"My da never trusted a bank," I said. "He trusted you. Everybody knows how that went."

His smile stayed exactly where it was.

"Sharp tongue on her," he said to the room. "Like her mother. God rest her."

"Senan."

Cormac had come around the end of the bar. He didn't come close. He stopped where every man in the room could see him.

"You're done for the day," he said. "Go home."

"I'm having a drink with family, son."

"Not in here."

The bartender reached for the whiskey glass.

Senan let him take it. He stood, set his cap on his head and touched the brim to me.

"Sweet girl," he said, the way he'd said it about Nessa.

Then he went out into the sun, whistling.

I walked home the long way.

I checked every car that slowed down behind me.

At the door of the shop I texted Cormac.

"What does he know?"

The answer came in under a minute.

"Not where. Not what's on it. He's fishing. My man's on him day and night. I'll tell you if that changes. Every time."

I read it twice.

Nessa turned five on a Friday.

She'd been counting down since the first of September, on the pizza calendar, in purple crayon.

She wanted a party in the shop, because the shop had the mirror.

And she wanted Uncle Cormac.

She asked me on Sunday night after their call, very carefully, sitting on her hands.

"I know you're mad at him."

"I'm not mad."

"You're a little mad."

"A little."

"Can he come anyway? Just for the cake? He can sit by the door."

I looked at the ceiling for a long time.

Then I picked up my phone and texted him.

"Friday at four. Nessa's party. She asked. You're invited."

He wrote back:

"Thank you."

He came at four exactly, in jeans, with a present wrapped in newspaper because he'd forgotten to buy paper.