Page 11 of Beside Golden Irish Fields
Of course, if that were the case, it would explain why the house Carrick doggedly worked on, in good and bad weather alike, had gone so wrong. Having lost Bruce, Bets had taken pity on the man when he’d asked to build Sorcha’s dream house on her favorite spot on Bets’ land before he could pay for the land outright, something he would soon have the money to do. Carrick’s family and friends had expressed their concern, of course, but Bets understood wanting to keep busy in a life that suddenly held hours of emptiness. When her Bruce had died, she’d been lost. Carrick had been the same.
But perhaps there was a change in the air…
“I’ll take a raincheck on the pint,” Angie said, her hands locked around the golf club. “But you go on. I can see us settled if you point us to where we’re staying.”
She had planned for Angie to stay in the east cottage, but she reconsidered on the spot. “You’ll be staying in the cottage right beside where some of Carrick’s sheep pasture and the house he’s building.”
Liam, who’d known the original plan, swung his head in her direction.
Carrick’s jaw tightened.
“Oh, good,” Angie said unconvincingly. “Seeing your wordy sheep made Megan and Ollie smile for the first time since Tyson died. I was thinking about arranging for more messages with a local sheep farmer before I met you.”
“I don’t take requests,” Carrick said in a more severe tone than Betsy was used to hearing from him.
Jamie shot him a surprised look before shifting his attention to Angie. “We’ll leave you to settle in. I’m Jamie, by the way.”
“Angie,” she said, holding out her hand. “My sister and nephew are in the house.”
Betsy looked back, and sure enough, they were both inside, pressed against the glass of the front window. Well, not everyone was easy with sheep.
“My future student.” Jamie waved to them. “I’m sorry to hear of their loss. Hopefully my brother’s sheep will put together more phrases to make them smile. Come on, brother. Let’s leave Bets and Liam to their American relation.”
Bleating sounded. Shrubbery rustled. Bets grabbed her nine iron in reflex as three sheep tumbled into the garden. They formed a straight line and headed to the trailer, ignoring her roses completely, thank God.
“Love. Is. Here.”Jamie made a thoughtful sound in his throat. “Well, that’s certainly a nice message for this happy reunion.”
Bets didn’t jump this time when someone tapped her shoulder.
Carrick glowered. “Indeed. We’ll leave you to it. I’ll have new rose bushes for you as soon as I’m able, Bets. I know how much you love to win the fair competition, and everyone in the village is talking about Mary Kincaid going to a new level to beat you this year.”
“Don’t bother,” she said, watching the two men stride away. “Just keep your fencing tight.”
Carrick put the three sheep in the back with the others and then opened his car door while his brother did the same. His gaze drifted to Angie for only half a second. “See ya, Yank.”
Angie’s wave was as tight and rigid as her mouth. So they didn’t like each other. Well, that’s how she and Bruce had acted in the beginning when he’d become a bartender at the place she was working in Baltimore. She thought of the phrase the last sheep had made in the yard.
Love. Is. Coming.
She smelled oranges again. This time she smiled.
Her cousins’ visit was turning into even more of an adventure than Bets had imagined it would be.
After all, who didn’t love a good romance?
Chapter Four
Perhaps Angie should have expected the welcome party.
The Irish were renowned for partying, which was why Cousin Bets fit in so well. Certainly, the three other women who rounded out the Lucky Charms did. Nicola, Brigid, and Siobhan had shown up at Bets’ house in what were apparently their signature feather boas—Nicola in canary yellow, Brigid in purple, and Siobhan in tangerine orange. Bets had grabbed her Kelly green one from the coatrack and made the introductions.
Honestly, she was happy for the diversion after Megan’s mini meltdown. Her mom hadn’t told her Bets was going to suggest separate living arrangements—likely in case Megan declined and became upset. Angie appreciated the gesture, though, and also how easily Bets had adjusted her plans.
Boy, they were a group. Bets and Nicola were the petite ones with short dyed hair—Bets’ orangish and Nicola’s blond—and bright clothes to match. Brigid and Siobhan loomed tall and nicely round with age, their gray hair a lovely accent to their light coloring and blue eyes.
“You’re just in time,” Bets said as she led everyone back into the parlor. “We finished a late breakfast and were catching up. I sent Liam into town for some more ice since the freezer is on the fritz again.”
Angie’s stomach was still stuffed from the full Irish consisting of fried eggs and tomatoes, black pudding, and oatmeal—all of which she’d loved. Ollie hadn’t been so sure of the round black circles she’d devoured, and Megan hadn’t eaten other than a few bites of oatmeal, per her usual. She didn’t imagine this party was going to boost Megan’s mood one bit. While Ollie was openly smiling at the women, Megan’s smile was as fake as a spray tan. Which was too bad, really, because Angie needed a boost, and these women looked tailor-made to help her.
