Page 50 of Against Ebony Irish Seas

She laid her head against his chest and they watched the moon rise together, no words needed anymore.

Then he took her back to his home, knowing it was where she belonged.

CHAPTERTWELVE

Linc laid a stack of Sunday’sTheNew York Timesat the end of the bar as cheers erupted.

He had called an impromptu celebration at the Brazen Donkey after reading the article online when it went live. Taylor McGowan had hit a home run with the article on Sophie’s expanded glass installation and Jamie’s plans for the children’s arts center.

“Take a copy for yourselves and have another drink—on me,” he called out as he made his way over to the guest of honor. She was sitting in the corner with Bets and a slew of other folks from the arts center, who were holding court at a bunch of connected tables.

Sophie gave him a tremulous smile as Greta curled against her. Jamie sat close by, a reassuring hand on the little girl’s back.

Bets had an empty chair waiting for him, across from the others, and he gave her a smacker and then sat, gesturing to Sophie. “Your phone still blowing up?”

She ducked her chin. “It’s a little embarrassing how many people have reached out to congratulate me on the design.”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Ellie shook her head incredulously, nudging Kathleen, who sat beside Declan on the opposite side. “It’sgorgeous.”

“A new level for you and your art, as the article said,” Kathleen added, lifting her glass in a toast.

“Who doesn’t like a pregnant goddess?” Angie patted Emeline’s tiny back farther down the patchwork of tables. “It almost makes me long to do it again. Almost.”

“We’ll let this little one start walking before we talk about the next one, eh, Yank?” Carrick grinned beside her. “I loved the way Taylor tied in the mother in Sophie’s design to our children’s program.”

“She’s a master of weaving,” Sophie said with a gentle caress to the back of Greta’s head. “She’s also an incredibly good artist, but her art teachers disagreed and gave her harsh critiques. Something we’re not going to have at the children’s program, are we, Jamie?”

“Only positive feedback and support,” he agreed as he sipped his whiskey.

“Which you conveyed grandly in the article, Jamie,” his brother said. “Sláinte!”

“I had a good coach,” Jamie responded with a loaded glance in Sophie’s direction, the kind Linc knew he gave Bets.

The usually reserved man had nothing but smiles for the woman sitting knee to knee with him. They glowed like newlyweds, if you asked Linc, and he couldn’t have been happier for them both.

“What has your mother said about all of this?” Linc asked Sophie because he couldn’t help himself.

“Yes, whatdidBrigitte say?” Bets owlishly blinked her eyes at him, making him chuckle.

He’d had a romp in the sheets with Sophie’s mother ages ago, and Bets had teased him unmercifully about it after meeting Brigitte in Provence. Not only did the woman still want to tangle with him, but she’d also asked if he wanted to be a live model for one of her nudes. He’d taken it as a compliment, what with being in his sixties.

“Mother loves the design, actually,” Sophie said with a conspiratorial glance at Greta, who grinned in response. “Of course she thought I could add a little more detail to the goddess’ body.”

Linc didn’t want to know. Brigitte’s male and female forms had rocked the art world for theirdetail. Her work evoked emotion and reaction in a very different way than her daughter’s did, but Linc supposed that was the way of things. Ellie conducted her art with incredible precision and passion in a quiet studio while he’d always enjoyed walking the noisy floors of his window factories and talking to people.

“Any chance your mother will want to do a painting for the museum?” Angie asked. “I remember trying to get tickets to see one of her shows, but it was impossible. I can’t even imagine selling tickets for one of mine.”

Sophie’s face tensed. “You’re on your way, Angie. And I haven’t asked Mother about coming here since that’s up to Linc, Bets, and the board. Although Mother is happier in…sunnier locations.”

“She doesn’t like the rain much,” Greta said softly, “and she’s not sure about us living here yet. I told her not to worry.”

Sophie’s wince was priceless. “Let’s talk about something else.”

Bets tapped her glass on the table. “I have some good news. I checked my email just a moment ago and discovered a slew of inquiries from people about sending their child to our summer program next year. One was from as far away as Australia.”

“Wow!” Ellie gasped. “It would be like summer camp. I know we’d hoped for a blend of local Irish kids and students from abroad.”

“We’re going to have more interest than spots, I think,” Bets said with a grin. “Although I don’t know where we’ll house the kids. Maybe Linc can procure some mobile camp cabins like they had at the summer camp I attended along the Chesapeake.”

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