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Dan Mangan shares a special holiday with a very special woman.

Daniel R. Mangan, son of Timothy Mangan and Patricia Regan, grandson of Patrick Regan, Irene Kelly, Sean Mangan and Kathleen Dempsey, stood at the corner of 5th Avenue and 46th Street in New York City watching the annual St. Patrick's Day parade.

New York City celebrated its first St. Patrick's Day Parade in 1766 and there have been parades every year since. Motorized vehicles and floats are banned, but marching celebrants and bands abound with over 150,000 participating and hundreds of thousands watching each year.

Dan was proud of his Irish heritage and, despite the cold, he eschewed wearing a jacket on this day for a warm, kelly-green sweater. Normally he would be one of the loudest celebrants, but today his mind was elsewhere. He had a special celebration planned for this year.

He had agreed to meet a friend at this corner when she got off duty from the NYPD. The entire police force was on the streets today, either marching as members of the Emerald Society in the parade itself, or working the crowds. The beautiful detective he was meeting that afternoon would be patrolling in uniform since she did not share Dan's Irish heritage. She had promised to get posted near the start of the parade route so she might get away that much earlier.

Dan checked his watch. It was well past the normal time for the parade to end. The last of the marchers should be passing by soon and his friend would be getting off duty. He watched as another high school band marched by, laughing to himself. Their uniforms were navy and orange, but each member was wearing a bright green bowler hat. Everyone's Irish today, he thought.

Anyone watching the handsome young man might be surprised to know he was of Irish descent. His dark hair and eyes made him look more of Mediterranean ancestry to the casual passer-by, but a closer look revealed his true heritage. Irish history and even the legend of St. Patrick himself taught the reason for Dan's coloring, typical of what they call "Black Irish"; dark hair but fair complexion and features often more Celtic than Roman. Dan, like his father before him, was a reminder of the ancient Roman occupation of the British Isles.

Dan looked up the street. He thought he could see the end of the parade. He stuck his hands in his pockets and nervously fingered the loose change and other objects. He had made an important decision some time ago, but today he planned to act upon it. He looked through the crowd, jumping a little each time he spotted the blue uniform of a police officer. She said she'd be in uniform today and it would be easier to find her in the crowd. He hadn't thought that there might be 40,000 people in police uniforms. He looked at his watch again. Five minutes after he'd last checked.

A line of patrol cars passed by, signaling the end of the parade, and the crowds streamed onto the street. Dan stepped back towards the building. He looked around to see if he could stand on something to see better, but couldn't find anything. Fortunately he was tall enough to look over the heads of many of the people. He looked up and down 5th Avenue and could only make out throngs of green clad celebrants. He looked up 46th Street. Nothing. He wondered if he should move to one of the other corners. No. This was the corner where they'd agreed to meet. Get a grip, Mangan. She's working. She could be delayed for any number of reasons. He tried to calm himself. He hadn't been this nervous since the day he took the bar exam. Thinking about it, he realized he was not this nervous even then.

He saw a group of police officers coming up 5th Avenue. They were too far away to identify the individuals. Dan tried to stand on his toes. He jumped up. All of them were wearing hats and had on dark sunglasses. He could make out several large men in the front. From this distance they all appeared to be tall and muscular; clearly they spent more time in the gym than Dan. There! At the back of the group was one officer, half the size of the others. Dan squinted, trying to see better. The shorter officer moved in and out of view. There! He could see now. The diminutive officer had several blonde curls popping out from under her hat.

Dan waved. None of the officers noticed him. Dan jumped up and down, waving. The tiny officer's mouth broke into a small smile of recognition. She spoke to the other officers and then, after speaking into her portable radio, took off at a trot through the crowd. As she came up to Dan, her smile spread into a wide grin.

"Nice sweater Counselor."

"Like it? I wore it just for you. Thought the bright color would make it easier to find me in this mob! Then I get downtown and, imagine, EVERYONE is wearing green today." Dan resisted the urge to kiss her. Even if she were off duty, she was in uniform and he knew he should maintain certain decorum. "Are you off?"

"Just signed off. I've been on my feet for over twelve hours, but I was lucky to get the early shift. Other cops will be dealing with drunks all night." She looked around at the thinning crowd. "You said you wanted to celebrate?"

"Of course.It's Saturday. It's St. Patrick's Day. We're in New York." Dan's smile was as big and bright as hers and his eyes glistened.

"Even though I'm not Irish?"

"Everyone in New York is Irish today."

"Let's go to my place so I can change."

Because of the crowds, they were forced to walk, and it took what seemed forever to get to her apartment. Dan waited anxiously while she cleaned up and changed. He was glad he had made reservations for that evening. They would definitely need them. He had chosen a small restaurant, hidden away on a side street and hopefully away from the celebrating crowds, but sure to have green beer, corned beef and cabbage, and good music. He used to go there as a small boy with his father and mother, and when he called for reservations the owner was delighted to accommodate him.

He had been planning this evening for months. He first thought he should chose someplace expensive and memorable for its exclusivity, perhaps Tavern on the Green. Then he thought he'd do something exotically romantic, like a picnic in the snow. Then he thought he'd chose someplace amusing and totally unconventional, maybe the Bronx Zoo. But something his uncle had mentioned brought this idea to him like a flash. He had to do it this day and he wanted to do it this way with this woman.

Dan tried to sit and wait, but he was too anxious. He walked over to the window and looked down at the alley below. He crossed the room to the bookcase and scanned the titles he had read countless times before. He walked back over to the chair and tried to sit down again.

The bathroom door flew open. "Ready?" she asked as she stepped out. She was wearing a simple black dress, one he'd seen several times before; but instead of her usual silver necklace, she was wearing the green carnations he had given her earlier. Her appearance made him feel the same way it did every time she entered a room. Be it minutes, hours or days since they'd last been together, he was always momentarily speechless when he saw just how beautiful and yet unpretentious she was.

"Oh," He grinned. "I love that dress."

"Sure Counselor. It's the one I wear every time we do the town."

Dan walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her. He leaned down and whispered in her ear, "Have I told you I love you?"

She turned her face up to his, her eyes wide in anticipation. "Not enough."

"I do. I adore you." He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and kissed her.

She stepped away. "Counselor, you're crushing my flowers." She smiled as she tried to fluff her curls and smoothed her dress.

"I'm sorry. I..."

She laughed at how he'd been so easily flustered, before going over to get her coat out of the closet. He took it and helped her into it. She grabbed her purse, checked to make sure she had everything, and they left.

Dan had refused to share any details about the evening with her. He promised good food and good entertainment and asked her to wear the black dress, but said nothing more. When the taxi dropped them off in front of a small club, she looked at him inquisitively. They'd never been to this restaurant before.

"My dad...he used to play here." Dan referred to his father's days performing in jazz clubs.

She smiled knowingly. They entered the restaurant and a large middle-aged man came hurrying towards them. He was smiling broadly as he pushed a loose hair back across his receding hairline and tried to tuck it into his ponytail. "Danny! Danny Mangan!" He grabbed Dan in a big bear hug. "It's been too long, Danny."

He turned to Dan's companion, one arm still around Dan. "He's the image of his Dad. Do you know that? And I knew his Dad." His tone became somber but his eyes still shone, "I knew Tim and Patty Mangan before they were even married. And this little rug rat." He slapped Dan on the back with one hand and offered the young woman his other. "Kevin O'Malley. Welcome to O'Malley's."

"Unca Kevin." Dan was smiling as broadly as the older man.

"Unca!" The man laughed heartily. "I haven't heard that in so long!" He turned and motioned for them to follow him."I saved a table for you." The place was packed but he had saved a small table in a quiet corner with a good view of the bandstand. He spoke quietly to Dan and patted him lightly on the back before walking off.

"Do you know who's playing tonight?" The young woman asked as Dan held her chair for her. He had inherited his father's love for jazz and she was learning quickly to appreciate it, too. They both were becoming familiar with the best local performers and the clubs where they performed.

"Honestly, no. But this place always has good food and good music and that's what I promised." He sat across from her. He took both of her hands in his. "Happy St. Patrick's Day."

"So I'm Irish, today?"

He nodded.

"Your eyes are smiling tonight." People often described his dark blue eyes as mysterious or brooding, often mistaking them for black. But when he was with her, they would reflect every light in the room. She always made a point to mention when they glowed that way, saying they were smiling.

"Of course. It's St. Patricks Day." He squeezed her hands. "Did you know today was my mother's birthday?"

She was surprised. He'd never mentioned it before. There was so much he'd never said about his parents. She knew his father had been a musician and was killed in an accident when Dan was very young. His mother had died of ovarian cancer when he was thirteen. He sometimes spoke of his father, but seldom his mother. She knew his parents had worked hard to make a happy home for him and he loved them dearly. She also understood how painful the memories could be.

"No. Is that why she was named Patricia?"

"I guess. But her dad was Patrick," He grinned. "And Uncle Bill is William Patrick. It may be they just liked the name!"

They both laughed. The waitress came up to their table. "I guess it's green beer?" he asked. She nodded and the waitress left after he ordered something with a name unfamiliar to her.

They sat smiling at each other silently, holding hands across the table, and enjoying the antics of the happy celebrants. They'd known each other long enough to sometimes communicate without words.

"How old would your mother be today?" She hesitated, fearing she might be opening wounds.

He thought for a moment. "Forty-seven...almost eleven years older than Uncle Bill."

"She was young."

"Yeah. She ran off with my dad...they had to wait until she turned eighteen to get married." He laughed weakly. "I was born less than a year later."

"She ran off from an orphanage?" Dan's uncle sometimes talked about living in an orphanage.

"No. She was in a foster home." He paused. "She had been separated from Uncle Bill and their other brother, Sean; the one who died in the army." He hesitated, as if reflecting on some distant memory. "The foster family apparently didn't want her, or at least didn't care, so she took off with my dad. He was traveling with some band. She turned eighteen on March 17th and they got married on March 18th. I was born that fall so..." He grinned sheepishly. "I've done the math. My roots are a little dirty, but not entirely, I guess."

"I understand what she did...completely." She protested.

"They got married by a priest in a church. That was important to both of them. Then they came to this club...where Kevin, he's the owner, gave them a party. Right here I guess is where they had their wedding reception." He grinned as he looked around. "They were good people. The facts, my conception..."

She squeezed his hands. "They had to be good people. Look at you."

"I wish she'd met you."

"Your mom?"

"Both of them. But especially my mom." The intensity of his stare made the woman shiver. "She was so worried about me. When she was sick, all she cared about was what might happen to me...after. She had a priest searching for both my uncles. She didn't even know that Sean had died. I wasn't supposed to hear them talking. But I did." He forced a weak smile. "She didn't know you were out there waiting for me."

"I...all I ever did was be a friend. It was your uncle who."

"Mmmhuh." He looked down at the menu. She's always been a friend...and so much more, he thought. "Do you know what you want?" He asked aloud.

She laughed out loud. "Is there any question? Corned beef and cabbage!"

He laughed too. "You know that's more American than Irish?"

"Yeah, I saw that movie too. Devil's Own? Brad Pitt and Harrison Ford?

"That's right. I think the dish evolved from Eastern European and Irish immigrants living in the same neighborhoods or something."

The waitress returned with two mugs. "We'd both like the special." Dan said.

"Of course." She smiled as she wrote on her pad.

The band began tuning just as the waitress brought their dinners. As Dan promised, the food was delicious and the jazz was exceptionally good. Even more important, they enjoyed the shared company. The evening passed quickly. They had just finished dancing and were walking back towards their table when the young woman stopped suddenly. She noticed an ice bucket holding a bottle of champagne had been placed next to their table. She looked inquisitively at Dan. His eyes reflected every candle lit in the room as he led her back to the table and motioned for her to sit down.

"Your eyes are smm..." she started to say, but he hushed her. He sat back down across from her. His heart was pounding as he played with something in his pants pocket. Now or never, Mangan, he said to himself. He pulled out a small velvet-covered box and set it on the table. Even in the dim light he could see his companion's face grow pale as she started to reach for it. He grabbed both of her hands. They were as sweaty as his own.

"Do you know what that is?" He asked. She nodded. "I've told you how much I love you?" She nodded and started to speak. "Ssh." He swallowed hard. "I've told you I want to spend the rest of my life with you?" She nodded again as tears started to fall down her cheeks and she bit her upper lip. He continued to hold her hands. "I've been looking at rings for some time. I wanted to get some priceless gem...because that is exactly what you are. Priceless. Rare. But nothing seemed right." He released her hands and opened the box. It held a diamond solitaire ring. "It was my mother's." He looked up at her. She was weeping openly now. "I know it's not big or fancy. But...." He could barely speak the words. "You're the only woman I've ever thought should wear it. Who I know my mother would want to wear it."

He looked at her; the question left unsaid. She nodded her consent. He fumbled as he tried to take the ring out of the box. His hands shook as he reached for hers. They were both trembling as he tried to place it on her finger. He sighed with relief as it went on, appearing to fit exactly.

"Oh! I guess I need to do this the right way." He kneeled down on one knee and looked up at her sheepishly. He swallowed hard and blinked the tears from his eyes before speaking. "Trixie Belden, will you be my wife? Say yes and you will make me the happiest man alive."

She pulled him up to her. "Yes! Yes!"

DISCLAIMER: Trixie Belden® is the registered, copyrighted property of Random House Publishing, as are all of the characters (except "Unca Kevin") in this story. I am only borrowing their use. This story is written only for entertainment and I do not intend to profit financially from it in any way.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: As my name Patricia suggests, I am of Irish descent, and have been wondering for some time about the Irish background of someone named Daniel (Danny) Mangan and his red-headed uncle, William Regan. This came to me in a sudden flash and I wrote the entire story in one sitting. It satisfied my own questions about Dan's background and resolved an important event in my "universe". I want to thank whoever created the idea of Dan's father having been a musician since I blatantly stole that idea. I don't know who used it first, but I think that makes Dan even more exotic than he already was in my mind. I have created an "Uncle Sean" who died "in the army". I've left that open so that he could have died in Korea, Viet Nam, or of heat stroke at Fort Benning, GA.-whatever or wherever the reader would like and we'll assume the statement in the original editions of Black Jacket Mystery saying Dan's father died in Korea was a typo.

I'd also like to thank my daughter, whose great-grandfather on her FATHER's side was named William Patrick "Pat" Ryan, and who, despite her concerns that her mother has gone completely batty in her obsession about Trixie Belden, agreed to edit this story.