Page 7 of Quinn, By Design

“She admitted as much today. Plus, a series of coincidences, which, in hindsight, don’t add up,” Niall confessed. He’d almost had a nasty accident with his lathe when he’d worked out Cam had conspired to keep them apart.

“Coincidences do happen.” His brother weighed the possibility with the scepticism of an experienced lawyer. “Maybe he had more important things to discuss with his granddaughter than a carpenter he was kind to.” Liam’s smile was sardonic. “Did you introduce yourself at the funeral?”

“It didn’t seem like the right time to bring myself to her attention.”

“That’s what funerals are for. Perfect strangers tell you they knew your brother or your uncle or your dad, and that they’re sorry for your loss.” Liam folded his arms across his chest.

“And you shake their hands politely and stop yourself from screaming thatyou’resorry for your loss.” Niall’s father’s death had hit with the finality of an axe blade levelling a sapling.

“Rituals work for some people. It helped Mum to hear words of admiration from strangers as well as friends.” Liam scooped up the empty glasses and headed for the sink. “Did Lucy show you the will?” Liam wasn’t making a casual inquiry.

“I’m not even sure she’s seen it.”

“If you weren’t so focused on paying me back, you’d be free to tell her to piss off. You could stop making those frames for Leopold’s and concentrate on your own work. Kate and I are more than fine. The partnership’s made a huge difference to me, and Kate’s books are selling. I ... we can wait for the money.” His brother nudged Niall’s shoulder with his fist.

“You’ve carried me for years. You have a wife and babe on the way.” Niall’s sense of justice demanded he pay a share of their da’s debts.

“Tell me again why you make furniture?”

“Because I can’t not.” Niall stared at his hands. “Because I love the feel of the wood, the excitement of seeing a shape emerge, then the smile on the face of the buyer when I finish the piece.” Like Lucy’s smile.

Sinead had never touched his work, or to be honest, him, with such care.

“Then why bother with an exhibition?”

“You should know the answer to that better than most.”

“Because Quinns pay their way?” His brother cocked his head to one side.

Niall nodded.

“Listen up, you eejit. You were and can earn a living. The change is you’re paying someone else’s debts.”

“Da’s debts are our debts.”

“I agree. But I hope you also see this exhibition as showcasing your skill, because I do.” His brother smiled. “In three months everyone will want a Quinn. You won’t have time to make us a cradle.”

“Right,” Niall muttered. “A cradle by Quinn will be the must-have item at baby showers.”

Liam ignored his mini tantrum. “How does Lucy fit into this?”

“I’m not sure yet. We’re from different planets. She’s antiques royalty, and I’m an insistently modern designer.”

“Direct her to Quinn’s website. Unless she’s wilfully blind, she’ll see genius there and understand why Cam sponsored you.”

“Thanks.” His family’s faith in him had always kept Niall centred and determined.

He wasn’t sure why it wasn’t enough now. Maybe because it irritated the hell out of him, and offended his artistic sensibility, to make more in recent months through frames for other people’s artwork than his furniture. Or because Sinead’s last words had fed the ever-present doubt most creatives had.

Admit it, Quinn, some deep, barely acknowledged part of me craves the independent vindication from a successful exhibition.

He pushed to his feet. “You’ll help if I’m summoned to answer the legal equivalent of a ‘please explain’?”

“You don’t need to ask.” Liam rested his hand on Niall’s shoulder.

“Can I refuse a bequest?”

“You can,” Liam admitted. “You’d have no control over where it went.”

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