Page 29 of Beside Golden Irish Fields
Bets was waiting in the front driveway, animatedly talking to Ollie. She pointed to a giant oak at the edge of the lawn, and he went running.
“Did I mention there was a tree house?” she called out to them, striding forward in purple yoga pants and a green hoodie with a shamrock on it. “My boys practically lived in it growing up. Angie, I love your outfit.”
“How high up is it?” Megan interrupted.
“Not terribly, and the ladder is sturdy, I promise. Do you want me to call him back?”
Angie waited.
“I’m sure it will be fine,” Megan said, clearing her throat. “You’re kind to let Ollie have the run of your place. He’s never had so much room.”
“It’s a good place to raise boys, Bruce and I used to say.” She looked around, love and memories alight in her pale blue eyes. “I’m glad Liam brought the bicycle out of storage. Did he mention Kade?”
“Yes, the pony therapy guy,” Megan said, tightening the cardigan wrapped around her. “Thank you. I need to think about it.”
Angie didn’t know what there was to think about. Ollie would love it, just like she would have at his age. But again, she bit her lip. Told herself to be grateful Megan had made breakfast and was out walking with her.
“Kade’s a sweetheart,” Bets told them. “Takes more after Nicola than Killian. Well, before I get carried off with that talk, are you ready to see your studio, Angie?”
Her hands grew damp. “Yes.”
They took the path behind the main house, through a line of towering trees she would have to study later. Sycamores and oaks with some others mingled in that she didn’t know. God, they would be beautiful to paint. She looked at their trunks, and sure enough, she could see an array of claws tunneling through the ground. Slasher trees, she would call them from now on.
The forested path opened up to a clearing with a beautiful two-story white concrete building fitted with rectangular windows and honey-colored wooden frames that matched the three large barnlike doors. “It’s gorgeous! This used to be a barn?”
“We call them sheds in Ireland,” Bets said. “Usually, they’re bigger than a cottage and uglier than sin with all the corrugated metal. You don’t see many concrete sheds with this kind of woodwork. Bruce found some old estate journals, and he discovered his ancestors originally built and used it to make whiskey, something that probably stopped when a steep duty was put on malt.”
“That’s so cool,” Angie said, loving the history.
“Anyway, I’ve always loved this building more than any of our other outbuildings, but after I sold off all of Bruce’s cows and fowl on the farm, I didn’t know what to do with it. Until now. Putting the skylights in took it over the edge. Come over to the side here. There’s another surprise.”
She and Megan followed their cousin. Off to the right, a sandy golden shoreline hugged a calm indigo sea. The sky was a rich Windsor blue filled with puffy gray and white clouds. She inhaled the salt in the air. Oh, man, this place!
“Iloveyour beach,” Megan said, her voice laced with awe.
“Meg always wanted to live in San Diego,” Angie said as Bets opened the middle door and led them past the empty first floor to a sturdy staircase.
Later, beach. I’ve got me a date with—
“Oh, my God!” She stopped short at the edge of the large horizontal room.
Bright new easels had been set up in three rows, waiting for her students. Canvases in varying sizes were stacked against the right wall. An open cabinet on the far wall held paints, charcoal, pencils, solvents, brushes, palates, and palette knifes.
“This is heaven, Bets!”
She strode through the rows, already imagining the people working there on their paintings. Pausing, she ran a hand over a smooth wood easel, savoring the delicious texture. Angling her head back, she studied the light coming in through the skylights and windows. “This light is perfect.”
“I think it looks pretty incredible,” Bets said, moving an easel a centimeter, “but if you want to change anything around, do it. This place is yours.”
Herplace.
She used to think of the arts league as hers in a way. She’d built it up from a decrepit community arts center, courtesy of some new paint and supplies from their fundraisers. But the community hadn’t supported them enough in the end for them to survive budget cuts.
But this place? Bets owned it. No one could shut it down or take it away from her. “I love it! I can’t wait to start teaching next week! Bets, how can I ever thank you?”
She ran over and hugged her cousin, jostling her off her feet and making her laugh.
“I’m so glad you love it! Maybe this is a good time to tell you I’m thinking about more than painting classes. Hell, I’m thinking about a whole bunch more than that.”
