Page 103 of Beside Golden Irish Fields
“I have one chilling in the fridge at my house,” he said, grinning. “Oh, Angie, it’s a grand day to see you so happy and have people appreciate your art. I’m glad for you,mo cuishle.”
My darling. She tipped the bottle up and took another drink. The bubbles danced in her mouth. Oh, itwasa happy day. Her first sale in ages! “You drink too. You’ll have the money to buy that land from Bets after the fair is done. Carrick, we have so much to celebrate.”
He’d told her that even if he didn’t win first prize, he’d have enough interest in his prize ram, Baron, to sell him for a lofty sum. Baron already had a reputation in the sheep community, as much for his own qualities as Carrick’s reputation as a competitive sheep breeder.
“We do, indeed.” He drank the champagne, watching her. “I plan to celebrate in private with you. After the dance. You’re going to be a popular woman tonight, so I’d best keep you close or dance every dance with you.”
“I would love that,” she said, holding out her high-heeled wedged foot. “My feet are going to be exhausted tonight. I’m not used to wearing shoes like this, but I thought they would look more fashionable. Plus, Bets pointed out that I could wear them at the fairground on grass.”
“Practical.” He waggled his brows. “I like them greatly, if that counts at all.”
“It does.” She put her hand on his chest and kissed him, pouring into him how much he mattered to her. “I love you, you know.”
“And I love you,” he responded, kissing her back softly.
“You’d better go. I hear footsteps on the stairs.”
“I do too.” He kissed her one last time and took the bottle over to set beside her purse on the small table in the corner. “For after your next sale. I hope you get tipsy from all the toasts you drink today.”
She did too and blew him a kiss as he left.
Her next toast came forty minutes later and the next one after only fifteen minutes. An hour later, she toasted Bets’ victory at taking the top prize in the rose competition. She drank another when she sold another painting and then two more back-to-back. In only three hours, she sold all twelve of her paintings. And by God, she finished that bottle and was happily tipsy when she went downstairs.
Nicola danced behind the cash register as she totaled up Angie’s payday. When she heard the number, she cried out and they hugged each other. “Thank you so much for letting me show here!”
“My pleasure, dear,” Nicola said, shimmying her hips. “We did well today too!”
Nicola’s daughter came over, grinning. “Yeah, we sold more books today than ever. Angie, you’re a good luck charm. When would you like to do another showing?”
“Yes, when?” Nicola asked.
She sputtered. “Whenever you want. I feel like I’m flying. I haven’t sold my art in forever, and it feels like I’ve come back home to myself. I mean, I love painting for its own sake, but there’s something downright satisfying about having people love my work enough to buy it and hang it in their home or office.”
“I can’t imagine,” Nicola said, fingering her silver Celtic cross necklace. “Next time, we’ll do the nudes, if you’d like.”
“I’d like,” Angie said, doing a little dance at the thought. “Some Nordic galleries have expressed an interest in them too.”
Her life as a painter was beginning again.
“I’m joining your next class,” Shannon said, pushing her straight brown hair over her shoulder. “If I’d known you were going to teach nudes, I would have signed up straightaway.”
“Your mother is a natural at them,” Angie said, winking at her mother. “Maybe you should show some of your art too.”
“Killian would love that,” Nicola said, pressing her hand to her mouth. “Right now, I’m happy, and he’s happy. In private.”
“Oh, Mum, you and Dad are glowing.” Shannon gestured to the nearly blushing woman. “Kade was right. You two needed to express some things.”
Nicola only hummed. “It’s time for you to take yourself off to the fair, Angie. There’s loads to see. Bets will be so happy to show you her trophy. Plus, I imagine Carrick would like you by his side. There are bets too on whether you’ll be the one to live in that house of his since he’s finally buying the land from Bets today. I thought you should know.”
She stilled. “You’re kidding. We haven’t talked about—”
“Would it bother you to live in a house he built for another woman?” Shannon asked, tilting her head. “The very Irish and the old tales say it’s bad luck.”
She felt a lurch in her stomach, the champagne turning sour. “Bad luck?”
“That’s what they say in the myths.” Shannon gestured to that corner of the bookshop. “We Irish are dramatic in our myths, but love isn’t for the fainthearted, is it?”
“Like you’d know with all your boyfriends,” her mom said with a pointed glance.
