Page 22 of Against Ebony Irish Seas

“Maybe from now on we should consider that when deciding on artists,” Nicola said, crossing her arms. “I don’t like thinking that way, but we need to be realistic. Mary is going to continue with her wicked ways, and people like Malcolm will keep popping up. We need rough riders, to use your Yank phrase.”

“So the quiet, sensitive artist types are out?” Bets asked, shaking her head. “It sounds ridiculous when you say it out loud.”

“It does, and let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Linc said, drumming the table with his fingers. “I think Donal and I should go and meet Malcolm on our own. I don’t want to formally make this an arts center issue. Yet. I’ll say I’m bringing Donal because he’s a friend I turn to for advice from time to time given his past association with the county council.”

Bets glared at him. “Like I told you last night before you started snoring, I think the entire council should go—”

“We’d have to invite the nonvoting members like I told you before I nodded off,” he said with a wry look. “If we bring them, we might have to deal with them double-dealing behind our backs. I’m not eager for that.”

“Neither am I,” Donal said, holding up his hands. “Bets, I see your point. Go en masse and show him we’re a solid unit. He already knows that. Besides, if you go, you’ll be tweaking Mary Kincaid’s nose, and God knows what she’s been telling Malcolm.”

“And we’d like to get my mobile home back so Sophie and Greta have a permanent place to live,” Linc said, sitting back as if trying for calm. “Jamie can’t stay at the haunted house forever.”

“I don’t mind,” he said, sending Bets what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

“Jamie, you’ve been scared of that place since you were a boy.” Bets tapped the notepad in front of her, on which she’d written no notes. “Don’t kid a kidder.”

“He’ll be facing down his fears,” Carrick said, nudging him in the side and making his head turn. “We’ll have Sophie to thank for it, won’t we, Jamie?”

And Sorcha, he thought, but he simply nodded before saying, “A man can’t be afraid of a mere house his whole life, can he?”

“My father managed to fear the cemetery his mother was buried in his whole life,” Eoghan put forward with a laugh. “You’re a brave man, Jamie Fitzgerald. How did the grocery shopping go this morning, by the by?”

More puzzled looks had his ears heating up. “Fine.” He glanced around, then clarified, “I…ah, offered to do a little shopping for Sophie and Greta, it being their first full day in town and them not yet knowing the way of things.”

“Took the duties right unto himself like a saint,” Eoghan said, “even though my dear Sandrine and I would have been happy to do the shopping again after that buzzard Malcolm took the first batch along with the house. Again, we have much to thank you for, Jamie Fitzgerald.”

He hated the limelight and, even worse, talk of him being a saint. Didn’t he have condoms in his wallet? He flushed redder. Best to change the subject. “If we’re voting on the matter, I agree on the strategy of Linc and Donal going alone to start.”

“Are we, Madam Chairman?” Linc asked, giving Bets his full attention.

She straightened in her seat, tightening her lips. “I don’t think we need to be that official. But weshouldmeet with our nonvoting members and feel them out. Soon.”

“How about a few of us meet with them at the pub?” Eoghan asked. “That’s the best place to see into a man’s soul outside church.”

Linc laughed. “I might have to write that one down, Eoghan. Well, we have the outline of our next steps. Shall I nail down Hans then?”

“I say we put it to a vote right now.” Bets scratched something at the top of her notepad. “All for Hans receiving a formal offer?”

Everyone raised their hand.

“Motion passes.” She made another note and looked up. “Any other business before we leave? Although I think we’ll be meeting soon enough.”

Jamie raised his hand. It felt a little weird, because he was accustomed to calling on students, not acting the part of one. She nodded for him to speak. “I’d like to buy the furniture for the children’s art studio. I have a feeling we’re going to want to solidify things quickly. I’m hoping to present a draft plan shortly.” He had no idea when exactly, but he figured it would only take a week, right?

“Any objections to Jamie buying furniture?” Linc asked.

“We need a budget of the items in a spreadsheet, and then we’ll execute a purchase order,” Bets informed him.

“A budget?” He wanted to groan, his eyes crossing when he thought of the millions of little squares. “Fine. Although I’d prefer to use an abacus.”

“That’s a good one, Jamie,” Eoghan said, eyes crinkling with humor. “When I was a schoolboy, we simply added up numbers on our slates. Well, I’d say we’re still in the thick of things, but everything is progressing well. We have a lovely new artist in residence and another one we’re locking up. Shall we put out a press release once Hans agrees, do you think?”

Bets wrote something on her notepad. “Absolutely. The sooner the better. We want to show Malcolm we’re stocked up.”

“Like the River Moy with trout,” Donal said, wagging his finger. “But we need to watch our steps. Malcolm isn’t one to just fade into the shadows. Neither is Mary.”

Bets rubbed her temples. “Don’t remind me. Linc, what about Tom Sarkesian? When can he present his final plans for the museum? Releasing his design might also bolster our efforts to keep Malcolm from bothering with us.”

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