Page 91 of After Indigo Irish Nights
“I only know Ellie started drawing on my windows, and now she’s a world-class stained glass artist. You know my idea of parenting, Brigitte. Build them a nest but let them fly. Then again, I always thought kids were smarter than adults.”
Sophie laughed and laid her cheek against Linc’s shoulder. “That’s why I love you. Oh, I’m so glad you’re here. I can’t wait to hear more about Ireland.”
Bets was encouraged by her eagerness. Brigitte was another story. She decided to keep her lips zipped for the time being. Way too many undercurrents here, and since she didn’t like Sophie’s mother—God, was she running her soft-pink fingernail down Linc’s arm?—she didn’t want to converse with her.
Not that Brigitte would want to talk to Bets anyway. No, all she had eyes for was Linc. Bets had the urge to shoo her away from him like she would a sheep. Apparently, she was protective of Linc. He was her friend, after all.
“Come,” Sophie said. “I want to introduce you to my treasure, Sandrine. Linc’s met her, so he knows she’s the one that keeps everything working in my life and has since I was a baby.”
“Hiring her was the only thing I did right as a mother,” Brigitte said dramatically.
Linc chuckled. “She reminds me of Lupe. Best thing I ever did, finding her for Ellie.”
Bets couldn’t even imagine having someone to help with raising kids. Think of the other things she could have done! Another way in which this world was totally foreign to her.
“Eoghan, do you swim?” Sophie asked, turning back to look at him.
“I’ve swum in the Irish sea since I was a boy,” he replied as they all entered the house, which was instantly cooler. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” he said with a whistle. “It’s like a museum.”
Bets looked around and tried not to gawk. The floors were in light gray marble while the walls were a cool white stone. Paintings hung on every wall, the colors bold, the brushstrokes sweeping. Bets wondered if any were Brigitte’s. There was a twelve-light crystal chandelier overhead, which shot prisms throughout the open space from the second-floor windows surrounding a wide circular staircase.
“You have a beautiful home,” she managed to get out.
“Thank you.” Sophie gestured to the room. “It’s my grandparents’. They thought I’d like it here after I got divorced.”
“Oh, Sophie,” Brigitte said, tsking. “You aren’t to bore them with that.”
Sophie’s mouth thinned. “Only stating facts, Mother. Sandrine, come and meet our guests.”
Bets heard what she really meant.Come save me.She sympathized.
The woman who appeared on the top of the stairs was as beautiful as Brigitte, Bets thought, although older, perhaps in her early eighties, although it was hard to tell. Her posture was impeccable as she walked down the stairs. The light touched on elegant cheekbones, which set off a face that bore only a few lines. Her hair was white and rich, falling to her neck. The blue shirt dress she wore matched her eyes. She smiled warmly. Bets liked her immediately.
The younger woman made the introductions.
Eoghan sputtered and flushed red when he took Sandrine’s hand and held it. “May I say… I haven’t beheld a more beautiful woman in some years. It’s as though the fairies have blessed me.”
“Fairies, huh?” Sandrine had a slight accent, which Bets thought sounded French. “Greta likes fairies. Don’t you, love? Will you come out and meet our guests, sweetheart? You remember Mr. Buchanan, of course.”
Bets looked around casually but didn’t see the little girl. She must have crept in quietly enough for the door not to creak.
“It’s been a couple of years,” Linc said, drawing something out of his pocket. “So long that I wasn’t sure whether Greta might still like to play with jacks, but I brought a set just in case.”
Greta’s head appeared above the back of a blue leather couch, only her hair and her big eyes visible. “I still like them.”
“I’ll put it on the table here,” Linc said, strolling over to a buffet carved with flowers and cherubs. “When you’re ready for them.”
“I’m ready now. Thank you, Mr. Buchanan.” She edged along the couch, her brown eyes taking in everything. She wore a white eyelet top and yellow shorts, and her pink sandals were bedecked with flowers.
Bets smiled at her and gave a slight wave. The girl’s mouth tipped up on the right. A victory.
Greta touched the silver case. “They painted stars on this. I like that. Jacks look like stars.”
Bets had never thought about that, but she could see it. “When I was growing up in Baltimore in the States, we used to play jacks at the waterfront. You had to make sure the ball didn’t bounce into the bay.”
“I’m going to play with them by the pool.” She picked up the case and took off for a side door.
“You let her be alone too much,” Brigitte commented.
