“Turn that off,” her father barked. “’Tis rude when we have company.”
“Yes, Da,” she sighed as she walked slowly to the set and switched it off.
“So, as I was sayin’, how is school goin’, Sean? Your folks are very proud of you.”
“Actually, Mr. Donahue, I’m done with my schoolin’. I doubled up and got my degree early.”
“Did you now? That’s fine, lad, fine. So what are you now?” her Da asked, leaning back in his chair and lighting his pipe.
“I have a degree in Civil Engineerin’. As a matter of fact, I have an interview next week. I hope to be workin’ for the government.”
“The government? Now that’s really somethin’ isn’t it, Margaret?”
“Aye,” her mother replied.
Maeve snorted.
“Maeve, offer Sean somethin’ to drink?” her Da ordered with a frown.
“Want one?” she asked blandly, holding up her bottle.
“No, thank you. Why I really came here tonight is…well I’d like to have a word in private with you, Mr. Donahue.”
“In private, you say?” Leaning forward in his chair, her father acted like O’Malley was about to impart a bit of highly confidential, top secret, information.
“Anythin’ you have to say can be said right here,” Maeve snapped, glaring at Sean.
“Lass,” her father protested. “What’s gotten into you? I swear you’re as prickly as a porcupine. Now mind your manners. If Mr. O’Malley desires a private conversation, that’s what he shall have, and I’ll not hear any more of your sass,” he warned sharply.
“Yes, Da,” Maeve said, lowering her eyes so she didn’t have to see the satisfaction in Sean’s.
“Margaret, get us two glasses and we’ll adjourn to my study. We can talk there without bein’ disturbed,” he continued, staring meaningfully at Maeve.
“One of you is already disturbed,” she mumbled. “I’ll get the glasses, Ma.” She thought she heard Sean snort as she left the room.
* * *
Two hours later, Sean and her father came out of the study, her father obviously having trouble walking straight.
“I’ve given your hand in marriage to young Sean here,” he announced heartily.
“What?” she and her mother demanded in unison.
“Did I mumble?”
“Well, aye, actually you did,” Maeve replied, her hands on her hips.
“I said I’ve given my permission for Sean O’Malley to marry you,” he informed them with a huge grin as he staggered to his chair.
“How much whiskey did you have to pour down his throat to get him to agree to that?” she demanded, looking at Sean.
“When a man gifts another man with a bottle of whiskey, ’tis not his place to tell him how to drink it,” Sean answered with a grin.
Maeve rolled her eyes and sank to her knees before her father, taking his hands in hers. “Da, I can’t marry him,” she said earnestly.
“Canna or wilna?” he asked, slipping heavily into the brogue as he always did when drinking.
“Both.”
