"Thank you." Shannon turned her head and watched the scenery. And it was lovely, there was no denying it. Just as there was no denying there was something special in the way the sun slanted through the clouds and gilded the air.
"Rogan's man said you're a commercial artist," Maggie began, more from curiosity than manners.
"That's right."
"So what you do is sell things, market them."
Shannon's brow lifted. She recognized disdain when she heard it, however light it was. "In a manner of speaking." Deliberately she turned, leveled her gaze on Maggie's. "You sell... things. Market them."
"No." Maggie's smile was bland. "I create them. Someone else has the selling of them."
"It's interesting, don't you think," Brianna put in quickly, "that both of you are artists?"
"Odd more like," Maggie muttered, and shrugged when Brianna aimed a warning glance in the rearview mirror.
Shannon merely folded her hands. She, at least, had been raised with manners. "How close is your home to a town, Brianna? I thought I would rent a car."
"We're a bit of a way from the village. You won't find a car to let there. But you're welcome to the use of this one when you like."
"I don't want to take your car."
"It sits idle more often than not. And Gray has one as well, so ... You'll want to do some sightseeing, I imagine. One of us will be happy to guide you about if you like. Sometimes people just like to wander on their own. This is our village," she added.
It was no more than that, Shannon mused, more than a little downcast. A tiny place with narrowing sloping streets and shops and houses nestled. Charming, certainly, and quaint. And, she thought with an inner sigh, inconvenient. No theater, no galleries, no fast food. No crowds.
A man glanced up at the sound of the car, grinned around the cigarette clinging to his bottom lip and lifted a hand in a wave as he continued to walk.
Brianna waved in return, and called out the open window. "Good day to you, Matthew Feeney."
"Don't stop, for Christ's sake, Brie," Maggie ordered even as she waved herself. "He'll talk from now till next week if you do."
"I'm not after stopping. Shannon wants a rest, not village gossip. Still, I wonder if his sister Colleen is going to marry that Brit salesman."
"Better had from what I've heard," Maggie said, scooting up to rest her hands on the back of the front seat. "For he's sold her something already she'll be paying for in nine months time." "Colleen's carrying?"
"The Brit planted one in her belly, and now her father's got one hand around his throat and the other seeing the banns are read. I got the whole of it from Murphy a night or two ago in the pub."
Despite herself, Shannon felt her interest snagged. "Are you telling me they'll force the man to marry her?" "Oh, force is a hard word," Maggie said with her tongue in her cheek. "Encourage is better. Firmly encourage, pointing out the very reasonable choices between marriage vows and a broken face."
"It's an archaic solution, don't you think? After all, the woman had as much to do with it as the man."
"And she'll be stuck with him just as he's stuck with her. And the best of it they're bound to make."
"Until they have six more children and divorce," Shannon said shortly.
"Well, we all take our chances on such matters, don't we." Maggie settled back again. "And we Irish pride ourselves on taking more of them, and bigger ones than most."
Didn't they just? Shannon thought as she lifted her chin again. With their IRA and lack of birth control, alcoholism and no-way-out marriages.
Thank God she was just a tourist.
Her heart gave a quick lurch as the road narrowed. The winding needle threaded through a thick tunnel of hedge planted so close to the edge of the road the car brushed vegetation from time to time. Occasionally there was an opening in the wall of green, where a tiny house or shed could be viewed.
Shannon tried not to think just what might happen if another car came by.
Then Brianna made a turn, and the world opened.
Without being aware of it, Shannon leaned forward, her eyes wide, her lips parted in surprised delight.
The valley was a painting. For surely it couldn't be real. Roll after green roll of hill unfolded before her, bisected here and there by rock walls, sliced by a patch of brown turned earth, a sudden colorful spread that was meadows of wildflowers.
Toy houses and barns had been placed in perfect spots, with dots of grazing cattle meandering, clothes waving cheerfully on lines.
Castle ruins, tumbling stones, and a sheer, high wall, stood in a field as if that spot were locked in a time warp.
The sun struck it all like gold, and glinted off a thin ribbon of silver river.
And all of it, every blade of grass was cupped under a sky so achingly blue it seemed to pulse.
For the first time in days she forgot grief, and guilt and worry. She could only stare with a smile blooming on her face, and the oddest feeling in her heart that she had known this, just exactly this, would be there all along.
"It is beautiful, isn't it?" Brianna murmured and slowed the car to give Shannon another moment to enjoy.
"Yes. I've never seen anything more beautiful. I can see why my mother loved it."
And that thought brought the grief stabbing back, so that she turned her gaze away again.
But the new view was no less charming. Blackthorn Cottage waited to welcome, windows glinting, stone flecked with mica that sparkled. A glory of a garden spread beyond the hedges that were waiting to burst into a bloom of their own.
A dog barked in greeting as soon as Brianna pulled up behind a spiffy Mercedes convertible.
"That'll be Concobar, my dog," she explained and laughed when Shannon's eyes widened as Con raced around the side of the house. "He's big, is Con, but he's harmless. You haven't a fear of dogs, have you?" "Not normally."
"Sit now," Brianna ordered when she stepped out of the car. "And show your manners."
The dog obeyed instantly, his thick gray tail pounding the ground to show his pleasure and his control. He looked over at Shannon as she cautiously alighted, then he lifted a paw.