Rundimahair: A new hero for a new adventure by Larry Forkner (summer books .TXT) 📗

with a thick stucco finish, painted in a variety of bright colors. The roof overhangs were all finely detailed, decorative wood painted in more subdued colors that blended well with the building’s primary color. The look and style of the commercial buildings and most of the homes seemed old European, although it was obvious they had been updated and renovated over the years. Sean was impressed by how well maintained the town was. Everyone seemed to take great pride in keeping their property in near-perfect condition.

“What do you think of our little town so far?”

“It’s a wonderful place, Ashling. Most coastal towns I visit are not so beautifully cared for. In fact, some of them are quite run down.”

“We’re a close-knit group, and we’re all anxious to keep Rundimahair a place we can all take pride in.”

“The pride of ownership really shines through. It looks to be older than any town I’ve come across on the west coast. The age and the old European style are quite unique. With all the Irish accents I’m hearing, I assume the town was founded by Irish immigrants. Do you know when it was first settled?”

“The origins of the town are something of a mystery. No one seems to know exactly when it was settled or by whom. I don’t think it’s as old as it appears, but we all love the original style and have worked hard to maintain it. That’s why we still have cobblestone streets, even though asphalt would provide a much smoother ride.”

He wasn’t sure what it was about her response that bothered him. On the surface, it seemed to answer his question, but it didn’t really satisfy his growing curiosity about Rundimahair. Every time he asked a question about the town’s history, she gave what seemed to be a well-rehearsed response without ever answering his question in depth.

“Here’s my first stop,” Ashling said, turning into the yard of a small but well-kept home. “You’re welcome to look around town on your own or accompany me on my visit with Mrs. O’Leary.”

“A fine Irish name,” Sean said. Would I be in the way if I came in with you? I’m curious to see the inside of some of these old homes.”

“Not in the least; I’m just checking in to see how she’s doing. She’s been a wee bit under the weather the past month or so, but I think she’s well on the mend by now. To tell the truth, she’ll love the company. Mrs. O’Leary is quite a talker, and she’ll enjoy having someone new to share her stories with.”

“Lead the way. I’m always up for a good story.”

A diminutive woman answered the door almost immediately after Ashling’s gentle knock on the heavy, mahogany door. She must have been waiting by the window, watching for them.

She looked to be in her late seventies or possibly early eighties. Despite her advanced age, Mrs. O’Leary had fiery red hair with only a touch of gray in it. She wasn’t much over five-feet tall and was slightly stooped. If Sean had to guess, he’d say she was barely a hundred pounds—if that. He wondered if her withered appearance was due to the illness Ashling had mentioned.

Her home was decorated very simply but beautifully. Sean began to wonder if everyone in town was a professional decorator. The colorful oval rugs that lay over the immaculate mahogany floor were obviously old, but still very attractive. The furniture looked like it came over with the original pilgrims. The solid oak frames could have used a touch of refinishing, but the plush cushions looked to have been recovered recently.

Sean noticed that the plumbing and electrical looked like it had been added long after the home was built. The lighting and the kitchen sink appeared to be right out of the 1920s.

Mrs. O’Leary had a small fire going in the large stone fireplace. The fireplace, with the old oak mantle and the gray stone hearth, provided a warm, comforting centerpiece for the home.

“And how are we this fine day, Mrs. O’Leary?” Ashling asked, as she set her leather bag on the couch and gave the old woman a gentle hug.

“Oh, as good as a worn-out old woman can be. And is all well with you, my darlin’ girl?” Mrs. O’Leary asked, returning the embrace with surprising strength.

“Couldn’t be better if I tried,” Ashling replied, smiling.

“And you look as good as you feel, dearie. It’s a never endin’ mystery how a beauty like you hasn’t been snatched up long ago.”

“Now, now, none of your matchmaking today, Mrs. O’Leary,” Ashling said. “I’ve come to visit you, not discuss my pathetic love life.”

“And truer words were never spoken than when I say, there isn’t a man within a hundred miles of here that deserves a sweet lass like you. But I see you’ve brought a fine-looking outsider with you. Could he be the apple of your eye, then?”

Sean and Ashling both had to laugh at that audacious comment. Mrs. O’Leary smiled, pleased to have gotten a rise out of both of her visitors.

“He is the man who nearly ran his vehicle into my Da’s furniture shop. He’s staying with us for a few days while he recuperates from his accident. I’m just showing him about our little town and introducing him to some of our most illustrious citizens. Of course we started with you,” Ashling said.

Sean held out his hand and smiled at Mrs. O’Leary. “I’m Sean Quinn; it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh and a fine Irish name to boot,” Mrs. O’Leary replied, shaking his hand vigorously. “How long do you expect to be with us, Sean?”

“It will probably be just a few days. As soon as I fully recover from the accident, then I’ll be on my way,” he replied, as he pulled his hand back from her two-handed grip.

“Isn’t it a stroke of the good Lord’s luck that you had your accident in Rundimahair, then? There isn’t a finer healer in this great wide world than our