Page 35 of Beside Golden Irish Fields
“They’ve come to see if anyone will volunteer to be a life model.”
She pressed her hand to her temple. “I thought it was a joke about us painting nudes.”
“It was, mostly, but a few people at the pub talked big over pints this week, and it raised everyone into a fervor. Hence Cormac. He used to be a jockey. Now he’s what you would call—”
“A bookie,” she answered slowly. “I’m in hell. Wait! Maybe I’m looking at this all wrong. Please tell me there’s going to be a parade of hot naked Irish guys my age volunteering to model.”
She might be off sex, but she could look.
His shoulders started to shake. “Sorry, cousin. For familial harmony, I’m not showing my stuff to you or anyone in that class. Mum made me promise. The only likely candidates will be over sixty, I expect.”
She was going to go blind. Today. All her painting hopes would be gone.
“Come on!” Liam grabbed her hand. “Mum and the Lucky Charms have a plan if anyone tries to strip, don’t worry.”
“Why would I worry?” She laughed as they wandered down the path between the trees. “I used to be a semi-respected teacher in America. Now, people are placing bets on whether old men are going to streak through my class.”
“Technically it’s volunteering, but it’s craic, all right.”
When they emerged from the tree line, she was sure her mouth popped open. People were sitting in everything from dinner chairs to patio furniture in front of the studio!
“That’s Aunt Mary under the oak with her one friend, Orla MacKenna, who’s to her right,” Liam said, tilting his head in their direction. “I’d keep away from them.”
“Good to know.” She glanced over. A short, round, silver-haired woman in a brown rain jacket and wellies looked to be Aunt Mary. Her friend—also silver-haired—was a shade taller and thin as a rail.
“Liam O’Hanlon!” the first woman yelled.
“We shouldn’t have made eye contact,” Liam said in an undertone, grimacing as his aunt barreled over with Orla. “Aunt Mary, how are you?”
“My brother and my parents are rolling in their graves at what might transpire today on O’Hanlon land,” she said, her face shimmering with dark emotions Angie would paint, the bitterness wrapped around her like a sticky cocoon.
“Oh, Aunt Mary, it’s all a good bit of craic if anything happens,” Liam said gently as Orla stared at them like they were bugs. “You should get out of the sun. Your face might burn.”
He pulled Angie away as the woman sputtered, the lack of introductions telling.
“They’re a barrel of laughs.”
“Yes, but everyone else here is great craic,” Liam said, waving as the bystanders sent up a cheer as if to assure her. “It was standing room only inside, but the Irish come prepared. As you can see, people anticipated the turnout and brought their own chairs. If anyone shows up to model, you’ll be talked about in the village for years. Decades maybe. This is big stuff, cousin.”
She braced her shoulders and walked through the bystanders, who had thoughtfully left a path to the main door. Strangers of all ages patted her on the shoulder and shook her hand like she was the MC for a parade.
“We’re so glad to have you,” one woman said.
“Oh, what a day for the village,” another man told her with a wink.
When she entered the building, people lined the stairs to the second floor. More of them came forward to greet and congratulate her.
“What in the hell will they do if nothing happens?” she asked Liam. People who lost money didn’t always react well.
“Ah… It’s no bother. People had a chat. A bright spot in their day.”
God, she loved the Irish.
When she reached the studio, Liam kissed her cheek. “Good luck, cuz.”
She surveyed the bodies lined against the wall and the people sitting in chairs beside the students at the easels. Everyone was staring at her expectantly. Liam hadn’t been kidding. It was standing room only.
Bets rushed forward—or as much as she could, winding around the acre of people. “People have gone absolutely mad, Angie. This isn’t how I wanted to start off, but I know you’ll get everything under control.”
