Irish immigrants mix hard work with good times at the Laundromat.

 

“I’m tellin’ you my dear, you should look right under your nose.  That’s what my old Daddy told me, and I’ve found it to be too true,” said Fiona.  She licked her finger and smoothed an errant gray hair back onto her scalp.  “If it’s a man you want, all you have to do is wish it, and it will happen.”

 

“Well, I’m not a young chicken, you know, Fiona.  Before you know it I’ll be 25, and I’ll be an old maid, I will,” said Maura.

 

The two women folded and smoothed the pile of laundry with care.

 

“If that happens, I should go take care of my old mother in Ireland and give Johnny a break from it.  But he insists I stay in the States and find myself a husband.  Easier said than done is what I say.”

 

“Not to worry dearie, you’ve only been here for a month.  With blond hair and blue eyes and the love in your heart, you’ll land a man in a minute.  A Laundromat is no place to find a man.  We’ll have to get you to church.  Yes, there are plenty of men at the church dances, I’d bet.”

 

They loaded the folded laundry into bags.  Fiona pulled the cart back for more laundry, and they began again.

 

“Right under my nose, you say.”  If I look right under my nose, I’ll have to marry old Sammie with his beautiful tan coat and listen to him whimper for treats for the rest of my life,” mused Maura as she leaned down and patted Sammy who slobbered all over her hand.

 

“Look at this!  It’s a lovely piece of lace isn’t it?  Reminds me of good ol’ Ireland.  Really. Let’s trade for a while,” said Fiona.  “You do the whites and I’ll do the darks.”

 

“Right,” said Maura.  “I can’t wait for the walls to be up over there.  The banging is giving me a migraine.”

 

“I know.  But the boss isn’t willing to pay overtime for after hours, so I guess we’re stuck with it.”

 

Patrick Maher, pulled himself up from behind the washer.  “Well, ladies.  I’d say this wallboard is begging for paint.”  He tapped the air with his hammer toward Maura. “Now you’ll have to smell the aroma of fresh paint, but it will, at least, be quiet.”

 

“Wonderful.  Just get on with it then,” said Fiona, staring up to heaven.

 

“That wall looks fantastic.  Nice work!” said Maura.  “Its good to see there is a fine worker left on this earth.”

 

“Thank you,” said Patrick, bowing like a knight in shining armor.  “I do my best for the likes of you.” His kind, blue eyes twinkled.  He put his hammer into his belt and left to retrieve the paint.

 

“Oooh!” said Fiona.  Here’s your man.  He’s a right handsome fellow.  Looks to be all American too.  Just the ticket.

 

“I’m terribly afraid he heard my gibberish about being an old maid.  I’m mortified, Fiona!”

 

“No, he couldn’t hear it for all the banging and hammering going on over there. Did you see him smile at you?  I might as well have been invisible.”

 

“We have to get you two together.  Yes, I’m thinking on it.”

 

“Lord in heaven, Fiona, stop!” cried Maura in earnest.  “You mustn’t be so pushy.  I’m telling you, stop before you start.”  Maura’s blonde cheeks turned crimson, making her blues eyes shine.

 

“Pushy you say. That’s the thanks I get for caring.  I’m leaving you, and I won’t be back for an hour.  You can finish the folding and start the new loads on your own.”

 

“Fiona, don’t be mad, please.  I’m just . . .”  Fiona closed the door with a giggle that Maura couldn’t see.

 

“Oh, excuse me,” said Fiona to Patrick at his truck.  I’ve got to go on an errand.  Would you please keep Maura good company while I’m away?  She’s awfully lonely, poor thing.  Just over from the homeland, she is.”  She patted Patrick on the arm and left.

 

Patrick couldn’t quite open the door with his hands full of paint cans and tools.  Maura noticed and opened the door.

 

“Maura, Fiona wants me to keep you good company.  So what shall we do?  Can I take you to lunch?”

 

Maura’s face turned redder yet, and she looked down at the floor.  “Oh, please ignore Fiona.  I’m afraid she’s trying her hand at matchmaking. You just go ahead with your painting, and I’ll finish up my work too.  But thank you for the thought, Patrick.”

 

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Patrick said abruptly. He put his cans and tools in the corner. He ran out the door, and Maura continued her duties.

 

In minutes, Patrick again arrived.  Maura could smell corned beef and pickles from the deli.

 

“Luncheon is served,” said Patrick, smirking.  “I don’t want to find out what happens when I don’t do what Fiona wants!

 

He set the lunch on a folding table and he and Maura enjoyed each others company for the next half hour.  They joked about Fiona, and decided to pretend Patrick had ignored her request, to see what she would do.  Maura was delighted and hadn’t felt so at home with anyone since leaving home.

 

Fiona arrived and looked most disturbed to see Patrick painting and Maura folding.  “Maura you need to take a break.  Patrick, why don’t you take a break and go out for some lunch with Maura?”

 

Patrick looked at Fiona from the ladder.  If you want me to, I’d be delighted to Maura.  I know a great place down the street.  We can be back in half an hour.”

 

Maura was dumbfounded.  But she smiled and accepted the offer.

 

Fiona stood proud of her triumph watching the two together.  “Oh my lord, they’re cut from the same stone.  Aren’t they both laughing about nothing together as they go.”