Page 101 of Beside Golden Irish Fields
He was right. Actions did speak louder than words, and the roses seemed to wrap their scent around her.
“I think I should put up some fencing today. It’ll take me fifteen minutes to gather some supplies. Bets, no one is going to hurt your chances at winning the rose competition while I’m around. I hope you have a sturdy shovel to dig the posts—”
She grabbed his collar and brought him in for a kiss.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Usually, Angie was ill for days leading up to a gallery showing and then for several days afterward.
Today her stomach wasn’t burning with nerves. As she held Carrick’s hand, surveying her paintings displayed on the second floor of Nicola’s bookshop, One More Chapter, she was filled with pride and that new and familiar happiness she treasured. She didn’t know how today would turn out, but her heart felt fulfilled.
“They look really good, Aunt Angie!” Ollie said, taking her other hand. “You’re going to make loads of money today. I just know it.”
“I think so too,” Megan said softly.
She looked over her shoulder, and they shared a tentative smile. Her sister had given her space, and it had been good for both of them. Megan’s color wasn’t gray anymore. While her grief was still present, it wasn’t full-time, and Angie was glad for her. Ollie was tanned from all his time outdoors, and Megan had red cheeks from the wind.
Angie turned back and looked at Carrick, remembering how his eyes had been a barren Payne’s grey when they’d first met. Now they were a warm, bright ultramarine filled with love. “Carrick did a great job framing them, don’t you think? That’s going to make a huge difference.”
He kissed her cheek, his solid presence a welcome anchor. “It was a small thing, and I was happy to help.”
Framing had been out of her budget, and she’d been stressed until she’d shared her worry with him as they were lying in bed one night. When he’d offered, she’d launched herself at him. Hadn’t she seen evidence of his expert woodworking at his house? And Carrick being Carrick, he hadn’t settled for some half-hearted effort. He’d scoured the countryside for special kinds of wood, and they’d gone to a beach known for driftwood aged by the sea’s potent waves. “They’re the best frames I’ve ever had.”
She also couldn’t dismiss he’d been the first person to put in that kind of an effort to support her showing her work. Randall certainly never had, and it only cemented what she knew. She and Carrick were at a new level of love, one she was starting to think might last for a lifetime.
“I think they’re cool,” Ollie said, dancing in place to a tune all his own, like he was seen doing a lot these days. “Kade says you can find all sorts of surprises where you least suspect them if you pay attention.”
“It’s ‘where you least expect them,’” Megan corrected. “Oh, never mind. You said it better, Ollie.”
That was a good show of progress between them. Ollie had needed space too, and people in his life besides Megan and Angie.
“How’s everything going up here?” Bets asked, coming up the stairs holding Donal’s hand.
“Looks pretty good from here,” Donal said, “although I’m no judge.” He presented her with a bottle of champagne he’d had tucked under his arm. “To pop later, after a successful day, Angie.”
“We’ll drink it together to celebrate everyone’s good fortune,” Angie said, flashing him a smile.
Oh, she liked him. She was delighted Bets had gone out with him in the village shortly after the sheep incident two weeks ago, making their relationship official, saying a good man was even harder to find than prize roses. Angie couldn’t agree more. She felt the same way about Carrick.
“My roses should be safe. Donal flagged down a lookout and even locked the car to make sure my entries have no mishaps,” Bets said.
“I love not locking the doors,” Ollie announced, rushing over to Bets and hugging her. “We could never do that in Baltimore. I never want to leave Ireland! It’s the best place on earth.”
Kade often said that, she knew. Ollie quoted him and Liam a lot. She met her sister’s eyes. Megan hadn’t talked about leaving anymore, but Angie wondered how she planned to keep busy. Ollie would be going to school in a few weeks. Well, her sister would figure it out.
“Your roses look beautiful,” Angie said, remembering how Bets had shown her the prize cuttings last night, swearing her to secrecy about their origin. No one knew whether Mary had been part of the sheep incident, but the woman had been suspiciously reclusive of late, with only Orla visiting—and Brady, for the post. He said she only cracked the door a bit when he brought the mail by.
“You should see the Love’s Magic rose this morning,” Bets said with a sigh. “It’s opened up perfectly and is emitting the most glorious scent. It might be the winner.”
“I’m so sorry I’ll miss that competition,” Angie said, “but I know for certain you’re going to win.”
“I can’t wait to face off against Mary Kincaid,” Bets said. “But I’m ready for her. I’ll text you with the outcome either way.”
“I wish you good luck today, Bets,” Carrick said with a nod. His grin turned wicked. “But not you, Donal. How’s your ram looking? Not as good as my Baron, I’ve heard. Cormac O’Sullivan has me beating you according to the tallies in his book.”
“Yourramis down to beat me,” Donal said with an amused glance. “Not yourself. Right, Bets?”
“Oh, you men! You want to compare… You know. Come on, Donal. We need to get to the fairgrounds.”
