Page 12 of Beside Golden Irish Fields
“We’re so happy to have you all here,” Nicola said, greeting them with a kind smile. “I run the bookstore in town with my daughter, and we have a small café. The village is glad to have you. It will be a good place for you and your boy to heal, Megan. I’ve always said we heal in community.”
As an art therapist, Angie was of the opinion that it depended on the community, but she liked the notion.Caisleán. Do your work!
“They sure got me through Bruce’s passing,” Bets said, hugging Nicola. “I couldn’t imagine what it would have been like without them—and my boys, of course.”
“Speaking of…” Nicola continued. “Your boy is lovely, Megan. Hello, Ollie. We’re all so excited to have you here.”
Megan cuddled Ollie to her side, and he frowned as he tried to pull away. He and Angie shared a knowing look. Megan was babying him again. He’d complained about it before, and Angie was glad he knew he could vent to her.
“He’s a bit shy with new people,” Megan explained.
Actually, that was Megan, not Ollie, but her nephew restrained another aggrieved look out of politeness.
“My youngest, Kade, was like that,” Nicola said, giving Ollie a soft smile before shifting her attention to Angie. “Bets says you’ll have us painting like professionals in no time.”
Angie made a face. “Gosh, I sure as heck hope so. Otherwise, she might kick me out.”
Bets laughed, grabbing her beaded necklace. “Never. Your mother would kill me.”
“Well, if you do find yourself wanting a change of scenery, you can stay with Seamus and me anytime,” Brigid assured her. “I’d love the company.”
“She’s newly retired,” Bets said, wrapping her arm around the taller woman with the gray hair in tight corkscrews. “Hence why she’s taking your painting class.”
“I always loved arts and crafts when I was a teacher,” Brigid said.
Siobhan fingered her tangerine boa. “You two should sign up for a knitting class at the yarn shop to meet people. Bets and I own it, you know,” she told Angie and Megan.
“Megan loves crafts,” Angie said. “She used to teach pottery classes.” But that had stopped when Tyson told her he didn’t want her working, saying he would take care of her. Angie had never much cared for his attitude. Without her art as a method of self-expression, Megan had become even more neutral.
“Maybe you’ll be inspired to teach pottery again here, Megan,” Siobhan said. “I’ve always wanted to learn.”
“Beats buying an overpriced mug at the agricultural fair,” Bets said. “What do you think, Megan? Would you be game for some teaching as well?”
They all looked at Megan, even Ollie, but Angie already knew the answer. She’d tried to lure Megan back to teaching years ago, after Ollie started school, only to be turned down repeatedly. Besides, her sister still wasn’t ready to think about life after Tyson. While she was receiving financial support from the government’s death gratuity program, which included a monthly stipend for her and Ollie, surely she would want to do something to pass the time. Ollie was getting older and didn’t need her as much—despite how much Megan told him otherwise.
“I’m not in any condition right now,” Megan said, drawing in her shoulders as if to disappear.
“Of course!” Siobhan said, rubbing her arm. “We’ll dote on you and your boy while you’re here. But you might consider taking a class yourself to help with your grief. I know crafts helped me after my mother passed.”
“You know, Bets,” Brigid said like a good co-conspirator, “maybe you and Siobhan might move your knitting classes over here as part of your new enterprise.”
“Bets has become involved in some of the businesses in the village since Bruce passed,” Nicola said, fingering her boa, “which is why we know her new idea is going to take off.”
Bets gave her friends a look that Angie couldn’t interpret. Huh. Their cousin was up to something. “I’m intrigued,” she said, lifting her eyebrows. “What do you have cooking?”
“I’ll go into it later,” Bets said with a wave of her hand. “All you need to focus on is bringing out the inner painter in all of us.”
Eyeing these women, she didn’t think encouraging their creativity would be a tough assignment. They were wearing boas, for heaven’s sake. “I’m sure we’re going to do fine.”
“Don’t worry if you can’t bring out the inner painter in me, dear,” Siobhan told her, a smile cresting her round face. “I pick up hobbies all the time. If it doesn’t work out, I’ve plenty of other ways to pass the time.”
“Hobbies keep us busy, and busy is good,” Bets said. “I still want to learn how to make stained glass.”
Angie felt the excitement of creating return, the way she imagined a butterfly would feel after traveling thousands of miles for spring flowers. “I used to love to go by that studio and see all the colored glass pieces. It’s an amazing process.”
“You can use stained glass in pottery,” Megan said suddenly.
Everyone turned to look at her.
