"Nora Roberts - Christmas at Ardmore" - читать интересную книгу автора (Roberts Nora)

Christmas at Ardmore
by Nora Roberts

The village of Ardmore spread itself tidily along the coast of County
Waterford with the blue waters of the Celtic Sea a skirt at its feet.
The hills and cliffs rolled above it, green now even in the dark of
winter. Some said when the air was quiet and the stars were bright
diamonds in the night sky, a keen ear could catch the sound of pipes
and flutes playing from the raft beneath the faerie hill where a pretty
cottage made its home.

There were some who knew the music was real, and that it played
for lovers.

But on Christmas Eve the air was far from quiet, and the music that
pumped into the chilly winter air was made by human hands and
voices.

Gallagher's Pub was packed with friends, with family, and the
occasional paying customer. It was the one night of the year the pub
would close its doors early, and those who lived in Old Parrish
crammed in to celebrate the holiday with pints and song.

Behind the chestnut bar, Aidan Gallagher pulled those pints and held
three conversations at once. He did so with the skill and pleasure of
a born publican. At the far end of the bar, his father did the same.

It was good, Aidan thought, to have his parents home for a bit of
time. And to work the bar like this with the man who'd passed
Gallagher's into his hands. He could hear his mother's voice raised in
song while she bounced Ailish, his child, the light of his life, on her
knee. And while he built another Guinness with one hand, made
change with the other, he could watch his wife Jude, his heart, move
through the crowd taking orders.

Jude's granny sat by the turf fire gossiping with old Mr. Riley, and his
sister Darcy's in-laws, the Magees from New York City. The air was
scented with that sweet smoke, with the yeasty aroma of beer, and
when his sister-in-law swung through from the kitchen with a tray,
the rich, full scent of his brother's Mulligan stew joined the mix.

"You're nearly seven months along," Aidan called out as she carted
the tray through the pass-through. "You shouldn't be carrying that."

"I'm strong as a horse." She tossed her red curls, and there was a
gleam in her eyes. "And if I stay in the kitchen with Shawn another
five minutes, I'll be forced to brain him with his own stew pot for
nagging me about putting my feet up. If I wanted them up, they'd be
up, wouldn't they?"