Farraday Country

by Chris Keniston

  “That’s easy.” Catherine, his cousin Connor’s wife, chimed in. “Money. Building out a restaurant where there wasn’t one before is an extremely expensive venture. Then you have to squirrel away the funds to run the operation for at least six months while the patronage grows enough to support the business, never mind make a profit. A year would be even better. And then, in this case, include the purchase of real estate involved, well…”

  “How much money are we talking?” His cousin Finn, the youngest of the West Texas Farraday brothers, dropped his ankle over his knee and took a sip of his beer.

  “No.” Jamie skipped over answering the original question and jumped straight to the next one he knew would be coming. No matter how confident he was, he would not put his family’s money at risk. It’s why he hadn’t said anything to his West Texas kin until the deal was an inch from signed, sealed and delivered.

  “No money involved?” Finn’s wife Joanna took a seat on the arm of her husband’s chair and grinned up at Jamie. A full-time writer, the woman had an interesting sense of humor—and irony—and could tease and rag on the family as good as the members born into the Farraday clan.

  Aunt Eileen stood up from her spot on the sofa beside his uncle and moved to the ottoman alongside Jamie. When his aunt got that determined look in her eye, he knew the chances of walking through a cow pen on shipping day without stepping on a paddy were greater than withstanding Force Eileen.

  Glancing around the room of relatives, it dawned on him that almost everyone had that same expression painted on their faces. Whether they’d been born a Farraday or married one. He should have realized when his cousins from town and their spouses had shown up for a family supper in the middle of the week that there was more to the visit than hot food and a little moral support. Something else was brewing.

  Aunt Eileen set her hand on his forearm. “We’ve been talking.”

  “When?” Except for the time it took to drive from town to the ranch, Jamie had been with his aunt and uncle all evening.

  She shrugged. “I suppose the conversation started back when you first mentioned bringing a pub to Tuckers Bluff.”

  “Thought you’d lost your mind.” Uncle Sean chuckled. “Then I started listening a little more closely to the conversations around town. Paying attention to exactly how many folks go driving to Butler Springs for a special dinner or a little Friday night shuffle. More than I’d realized, I’ll tell you that.”

  Aunt Eileen rolled her eyes at her brother-in-law. “Just cause you’re a homebody doesn’t mean the rest of the world is.”

  “Since when is being a family man a bad thing?” Uncle Sean’s brow knit together.

  “Even family men are allowed to get out of the house once in a while.”

  “I get out.”

  Waving a finger at her brother-in-law, Aunt Eileen’s mouth dropped open. “The barn isn’t considered—”

  A loud whistle pierced the air cutting off conversation. Finn’s fingers slid away from his lips. “Can we focus please?”

  Meg, Adam’s wife, flashed a broad approving grin at Finn before picking up the dropped thread of conversation. “Look at Friday Girls’ Night. We not only spend money for food or entertainment if we go to Butler Springs, we spend a ton on gas too. Just saving money on driving, never mind the time, would bring an awful lot of folks to a new night spot.”

  DJ leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “I’ll admit I’ve been a bit concerned over what this would mean for Abbie. Frankly, I think she’s a little worried too, though she won’t admit it. But Dad’s right. This town and folks nearby spend a lot of money trucking all the way to Butler Springs. As long as the place is different from what Abbie offers, I think we can handle two choices for dinner.”

  “What about lunch?” Becky, DJ’s wife, asked.

  Jamie shook his head. “Not practical.” Though with the new direction Crocker wanted to take, he had no idea what the group’s intentions were anymore.

  “You’re frowning.” Aunt Eileen’s brows buckled to match his. “What are you thinking?”

  His recent concerns over the impact of Crocker’s possible new plans wasn’t something he wanted to expand on just yet. At this point he needed to focus on what he knew would work. “To start, the pub would be open for long weekends only. Thursday through Sunday. No lunch. No hard impact on the café.”

  He didn’t have to say anything else. Several men cut from the same gene pool shifted forward or back, but all grit their teeth and nodded.

  DJ sucked in a long breath. “And there are no guarantees what the backers will do now?”

  Jamie shook his head. He should have known better than to assume he’d be the only one in the room to put the pieces together. “If they’re not following through on the deal as originally planned, there’s no telling what else they will, or won’t, do.”

  “I’m not in the real estate or restaurant business,” Uncle Sean looked to his nephew, “but that building has been an eye sore on this town, sitting empty ever since the feed store expanded across the street almost two decades ago. Not many people have a need for a place that size and old Jake Thomas asked a king’s ransom of anyone who showed interest. The way I see it, he wasn’t at all serious about selling till you brought a deal to the table.”

  There was a grain of truth in what his uncle said. Jamie knew for a fact that there was a sense of owing the Farradays a debt for standing behind his son in an effort to keep him out of jail. Not that Jamie had been all that sure it wasn’t more a matter of timing, wanting all his business deals off his hands, the way he’d sold the feed store to Grace’s husband. Regardless, whatever the reason for the old man’s change of heart, Jamie was kicking up his heels. Or had been.

  “Actually,” Adam spoke up, “there’s a rumor going around that without Farraday involvement, the old man won’t sell.”

  That had Jamie’s ears perking up. “Where’d you hear that?”

  Grace’s husband, Chase, smiled and raised one finger. “I may have planted a seed or two when I spoke with Jake this afternoon. Mentioned that I could see where it would have disturbed him to hear Jamie is considering stepping out of the project. The words the new plans were doomed to fail might have been mentioned, along with folks are slow to trust strangers around here without someone from town to back them up.”

  “Not bad, hubby.” Grace leaned over and kissed Chase on the cheek. She, like Jamie, knew that the deal struck by Crocker was a lower point of sale with a profit percentage over time. “Not bad at all.”

  “Hey,” he ran the back of his knuckles along her chin, “I may have given up life on Wall Street, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten how to play the game.”

  Game. Could he even consider what his family was setting up for him? Buy the place himself? Single and simple living had allowed him to stash some money. Nothing near enough for an investment like this on his own or he wouldn’t have settled for general manager to a company with Crocker’s track record. He’d dismissed business loans as an option. The kind of money he’d need, loans could be crippling when it came to getting the business off the ground. And even if he were willing to take the risk, he’d need more collateral. And that he didn’t have.

  “Did you know old man Thomas carried the note for me when I bought the feed store?”

  “I’d bet with the building as collateral banks would be willing to lend the money for the remodel,” Meg volunteered. “I may even still have a few connections that can help.”

  He’d forgotten she used to run a boutique hotel and restaurant when she lived in Dallas. Still, the whole idea was simply crazy. Even with his savings and some good connections, with a note attached, the building wouldn’t be very attractive as collateral.

  “Well, I think investing in this town is a smart idea.” Uncle Sean skewered his nephew with a stern glare. “I’d be willing to kick in for a share of the building, and I’m thinking so would your dad.”

  A few voices tum
bled over each other with comments along the lines of they each had money just burning a hole in their pocket. He knew they weren’t lying. He had savings as well and banks paid miserable interest rates. He also knew that risking their life’s savings wasn’t the Farraday way.

  “And before you go thinking this is some silly whim,” Uncle Sean waved a finger at him, “there’s a condition attached.”

  “Condition?” He hadn’t even agreed to let the family help and his uncle was already talking conditions.

  “Let me guess.” Adam looked to his dad. “You want the place called Farradays.”

  “Well, it does make sense,” Aunt Eileen almost scolded her oldest nephew.

  “Actually,” Uncle Sean spoke directly to Jamie, “a good Irish pub needs a good Irish name.”

  “Farraday’s isn’t Irish?” Aunt Eileen muttered.

  “I was thinking something a bit older than that,” Uncle Sean leaned forward, “O’Fearadaigh’s.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  “You really are going to do it.” Abbie passed through the open doors into the vacant storefront, Frank on her heels.

  “Entering enemy territory?” Maneuvering over an old broken bench, Jamie inched forward. “Watch your step. This place is one giant booby trap.”

  “No kidding.” She honed in on the ancient cash register sitting on what was left of a counter. “Oh, wow. I haven’t seen anything like that outside of photographs.”

  “Works too.” Jamie flashed that same photogenic smile every Farraday possessed.

  “Of course it does.” Standing beside the register, she ran her fingers along the dusty ornate trim, then pushed a button. The bell clanged and the drawer popped open. “These suckers were manufactured before planned obsolescence.”

  Frank scanned the rear, inching his way in that direction. “It’s bigger than it appears from the outside. Mind if I take a closer look?”

  “Recognizance?” Jamie laughed at Frank’s scowl. “Go ahead, but be careful. There are a lot of surprises everywhere.”

  The moment the last café customer had paid the tab, Frank mentioned Jamie was in town at the vacant site and suggested they come check the place out. Abbie hadn’t needed much convincing, her curiosity was driving her to distraction. “Didn’t expect to see you here on a Sunday afternoon. Your Aunt Eileen can’t be too happy if you’re missing supper.”

  Jamie tapped some papers sticking out of his shirt pocket. “Special dispensation.”

  “Everyone’s talking about your plans to buy the building yourself. Word must have spread through church this morning faster than the sermon put folks to sleep.”

  “Not a plan.” He tapped his shirt again. “Grace drew up the contract. We gave old man Thomas a cashier’s check about an hour ago. Everybody’s gone to the ranch to celebrate. I…” He looked up and across the rafters. “Just wanted to stop by a minute.”

  “Closing the deal on a Sunday?”

  “Timing is everything.” The guy was practically glowing from barely contained excitement.

  Abbie didn’t have to imagine what was running through Jamie’s mind, she still remembered every blessed sensation that oozed through every pore the day she signed the papers for the café. The last thing she’d had in mind when she’d agreed to come to Tuckers Bluff was that one day she’d own the café in the little town that had saved her sanity.

  “Don’t look so lost.” Jamie’s smile shifted from one of delight to reassurance. “It will be fine.”

  For a small moment she thought he could read her mind before common sense kicked in and she realized he was talking about the two restaurants. Her response to folks since word of the new business had shifted from rumor to reality weeks ago had been the same. There’d be no liquor at the café, no dance floor at the café, and nothing needed to change. That was her story and she was sticking to it. And if she repeated it enough, maybe she’d eventually stop second-guessing herself. “I’m not worried.”

  “You don’t look convinced.”

  “Maybe it’s because I’m not.” Had she said that out loud?

  Jamie moved a step closer. “I did a lot of research. You might lose a customer or two now and again, but others will come to replace them. Folks who have had no reason to come to Tuckers Bluff will come now to dance or drink. Many of these people will prefer to eat first at someplace with a larger, more diverse menu. These will be customers who don’t already live in town to patronize the café. It will be a good thing for both our businesses.”

  “You sound so sure.” He really did. What was it about the Farradays that they all held so much confidence? No matter what piece of garbage life threw at them. No matter how many Henry Wiggins and his ilk crossed their paths. They could hold a parade into hell and, waving a flag and cheering them on, everyone would follow.

  “That’s because I am. This isn’t a whim. No one opens a restaurant in the near middle of nowhere if they haven’t crunched the numbers. Especially not a big organization like Crocker.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s great for you and Crocker, but that’s probably what Walton told all the mom and pop shops in the near middle of nowhere when he opened his first box store.”

  Something very close to anger burned sharply in his gaze. “I’m not Wally. We’re not on a mission to take over the world, or the town. O’Fearadaigh’s will be good for both of us.” The tone in his words softened. “Believe me.”

  What was it they said about the road to hell? “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll believe it when I see it.” Not that she didn’t trust Jamie or the Farradays, but if their luck were going to run out, she’d be first to bet it would be with something that her life depended on. After all, what were the odds a Farraday would save the day every time her world turned upside down?

  ****

  In the years since graduating school, Jamie hadn’t spent nearly as much time in Tuckers Bluff as he had as a kid growing up. Nonetheless, he’d been here often enough to understand Abbie was as much a part of the fabric of this town as the sidewalk and the streets, Wally World could never replace Sisters, and Jamie would never try to replace the Silver Spurs Café. Somehow he had to find a way to reassure her. For both their peace of mind.

  “Well I don’t see Frank.” She rocked back on her heels, scanning the empty rear of the store and called his name. When he didn’t respond, she turned to face Jamie. “Who knows what he’s gotten into. I’m going to head home and take advantage of what’s left of my afternoon off. Tell Frank I’ll see him tomorrow morning.”

  Jamie nodded. “Will do.”

  Not till she’d turned the corner onto the sidewalk and disappeared from view did he go looking for Frank. Halfway to the back door, a rustling sound loud enough to catch his ear had him scanning the area. The movement of a single empty feed sack atop a pile in a nearby corner told him the guilty noisemaker—if there was only one—would be there.

  The real question was did he want to go after the rodent now, or wait for construction to drive the critters away? The more sensible thing to do would be to set out some rat traps. Or get a cat. But apparently today, sensible wasn’t in his vocabulary. Holding a broom handle he inched closer.

  He'd almost reached the stack of empty bags when the movement stopped. Tightening his grip on the broomstick, he stood as still as the sacks. Like a ridiculous game of chicken, each of them seemed to be waiting to see what the other did. Seconds ticked by before movement started again. A small lift on one side, a smacking sound nearby, and then what appeared to be an all-out wrestling match broke out underneath. The sack lifted, dropped, seemed to float in the air as something much larger than a single rat wiggled underneath. What was he about to get himself into?

  For a new approach, he took a step back, held the broom from the bristle end and hooking it under the edge, braced himself to whisk the top sack away when a definitely non-rodent paw trapped the stick against the floor. What the heck?

  Tipping his head sideways as though that would make it easier to
see what was underneath the loose bags, and gripping his broomstick, Jamie took half a step forward and tugged lightly at the wooden handle. The paw released its hold and withdrew. Two seconds later two paws followed by a brown-tipped nose popped out from under the pile of empty sacks.

  "Okay buddy." Jamie got down on his haunches and tapped his palm against the concrete floor. "Whoever you are, come on out."

  Before he could fully brace himself, the fluffy body attached to the nose came barreling towards him. About twenty pounds of puppy energy ricocheted across his lap, up his chest, down his leg, around his back, and over again until finally flattening him and licking his cheek. Using both hands to grab hold of the pup and laughing, Jamie pushed him down to his lap and sat up, holding him steady. "Where did you come from?"

  With the wag of his tail and a short woof, the puppy tried to push forward again.

  "Oh, no you don't." Securing the animal under one arm Jamie pushed to his feet, scratching under the mutt's chin with his free hand. "Your owner must be around somewhere looking for you."

  Returning to his original mission to find Frank, Jamie opted to check the storage area. Tired of wrestling a squirming puppy, he set his new friend down on the ground. "Frank, you in here?"

  "Yeah. In the loft."

  Loft? Jamie had checked the place out thoroughly and didn't remember anything about a loft.

  Puppy let out a succession of three fast woofs then took off in the direction of Frank's voice and the pull down stairs at the back end of the former warehouse area.

  "Hey buddy, wait for me."

  Two booted legs came down from the ceiling, finding purchase at the top step. "I don't think anyone ever cleared out this area."

  "I didn't even realize there was anything up there." Jamie moved closer to the stairs, the puppy dancing circles at the base.

  "I'm not surprised. I almost didn't see it myself. More of an attic really, but I happened to notice the recessed pull and then I spotted the hook arm hanging on the wall over there." Frank took his time descending the rickety steps. "I thought it was just over the little office in the corner but it goes all the way to the back of the building. Same square footage as downstairs. There's furniture up there, crates, trunks. And judging from the period pieces, I’d guess a good bit of that stuff is over 100 years old."