The Celtic Riddle

"Essentially, the money reverts to the family and is allocated amongst them. There's a very complicated formula," he added, giving me a don't-worry-your-pretty-little-head-about-it look. I believe he was actually flirting with me.

I wanted to say, "try me," but instead took a different approach and flirted right back. "Your offices are just wonderful. Georgian, isn't it?" I said looking about me. "Did you restore the place yourself?" My words were quite sincere, although my motives were not. On the assumption that he must be very proud of the decor, I was hoping to soften him up in order to angle my way around to a number of other questions I had.

Charles perked up immediately. "Yes," he replied. "My partner, Ryan McGlynn, and I found this house in terrible disrepair. Shocking, really, it was so badly damaged. We've been working at it for years now. We found some skilled craftsmen, and we've been doing it a little at a time, acquiring the furniture piece by piece. The original paint, you know," he added.

"I thought it must be," I said, giving him what I hoped was my most attentive look. "The carpet is my favorite," I added. "Aubusson, isn't it?"

"Yes. Mine too," he agreed. "There is something about carpets, isn't there? I like to think about the people who walked on them over the years."

I was quite nonplussed. The law offices of Mc-Cafferty and McGlynn were just about the last place I'd expect to find a kindred spirit. It made me see him in a whole new light, and I momentarily forgot what I'd come to Dublin to find out, and instead found myself trying to recollect whether or not he was wearing a wedding ring. He wasn't. It's not conclusive, of course, but a good start.

"Do you use all four floors as offices?" I asked.

"Three," he said. "Ryan and I have our offices on the next floor up. We meet with our clients either in our offices or here. Ryan has a flat on the fourth floor. I live in Ballsbridge," he added. I had no idea where that was, but I assumed I was supposed to be impressed.

"With your spouse and family?" I asked. Admittedly, subtlety is not my long suit.

"Regrettably, I have neither," he replied, with a slight smile.

"Nor I," I said. We held each other's glance a little longer than necessary. He was very attractive in many ways, with a faint hint of gray at the temples, and a nice build, about my age, or a little younger.

"Tell me about this piece," I said, breaking away and pointing to a piece of furniture against one wall. I knew perfectly well what it was, this being my business after all, a rather handsome writing cabinet dating to about the mid-1700s, I'd have said, but I didn't want the conversation to end. I'll admit I enjoy a little flirtation from time to time. It is, after all, in the right circumstances, perfectly harmless and rather pleasurable to let someone know you find them attractive, and to enjoy their admiration in return. It was all very formal, of course. I was Ms. McClintoch, he Mr. McCafferty, but it made it all the more fun, somehow.

I told him I owned an antiques shop in Toronto.

"Do you indeed!" he exclaimed. "Then please permit me to give you a little tour. Everything here is authentic to the time, the real thing where possible," he said, gesturing toward the chairs and sliding his hand across the fabric in a way I found quite suggestive. He had nice hands, I noticed. He then pointed out each object in the room and gave a little of its history, where he'd found it, what great family had owned it, what it cost him. I tried to look impressed, which was not difficult, because frankly, I was. When I wasn't making eye contact with him, and enjoying the way he touched everything, I was mentally launching a new line in the shop-Irish Georgian-complete with accompanying design service to make sure our clients got the look just right. It was a good, no a great, idea: Irish anything was in style, thanks to some pseudo-Celtic dancers and singers very much in vogue. I was a little unsure how to get the look of the original paint, but I knew someone who could do it, if I could bring myself to ask him: Clive, who'd been my first employee, a designer, before I made the mistake of marrying him. That problem aside, I thought I had a sure-fire winner, although some of the sums McCafferty mentioned as purchase prices were daunting.