“You need to take time to think it through,” Branna said, and Connor snorted, grabbed a biscuit.
“And didn’t I tell you this one thinks too much? Haven’t you taxed your brain on this enough for all of us?” he asked Branna. “Fiddled and figured all the little steps, the ways and means, the pros and cons and the good Christ knows what else? If they’ll take it, it’s theirs.” He looked to Iona.
“Absolutely. I’m not sure how Boyle will react to the idea. He accepts all this—we all know. And he’ll fight and stand with us. But at the core . . .”
“He’s a man with feet planted firm on the ground,” Fin said. “That’s true enough. We can only ask, as Branna’s asked, and leave the rest to him, and to Meara.”
“Well, I can see I wasted time making copious notes for the three of you.”
Connor grinned at his sister. “Too much thinking,” he said, and ate the biscuit.
“When do we ask?” Iona wondered.
“Sooner’s better than later,” Fin decided. “When the day’s work’s done?”
“Then I’m cooking for six.” Branna shoved at her hair.
“Happens I’ve the fat chicken you put on the list for me,” Fin told her. “And
the makings for colcannon.”
“As well. Dinner at Fin’s then. I’ll go over and start on that, but I think it best and fair we tell them what we’re thinking before a meal. They’ll need time to . . . digest it all, we’ll say.”
“Let’s say they go for it. When would we try it?”
Branna nodded at Iona, finally picked up her own tea. “Sooner’s better there as well. You know more than the rest of us, there’s a bit of a learning curve.”
• • •
SHE DID THE CHICKEN UP WITH GARLIC AND SAGE AND lemon, put the colcannon together, peeled carrots for baking in butter while the bird roasted. As she’d come up with the scheme, the others had decided she would broach it with Boyle and Meara.
As she worked she considered various ways of putting it all out to them, and finally concluded direct and frank the best possible route. It settled her down, until Meara came in.
“It smells a treat in here. And looks as though you’ve already done the work when I came soon as I could to give you some help with it.”
“No worries.”
“Well, I can set the table at least.”
“Don’t bother with it now.” She didn’t want plates and such cluttering up the table when they talked. “Just keep me company. Sure let’s break into Fin’s vast store of wine.”
“I’m for that. I tell you it’s scraping my nerves raw seeing Cabhan lurking about every time I take a guided through. It must be doing the same with Iona,” she added as she pulled a bottle of white from Fin’s kitchen cooler. “She was nervy today, at least toward the end of it. She and Boyle will be around soon.”
“So he shows himself to you, to Iona, even Connor now and then, but when Fin and I go out, he avoids us. We’ll keep at it,” Branna decided. “He won’t be able to resist trying to bully or taunt for long.”
“He doesn’t have long, and that’s my way of thinking.” Meara drew the cork. “It’s good we’re getting together, all of us, so regular like this. You never know when another idea might spark.”
Oh, I’ve an idea for you, Branna thought, but only smiled. “You’d be right. But let’s put that aside for now. Tell me how your mother’s doing.”
“Happier than I ever thought she could be. And don’t you know she’s started taking piano lessons from a woman at the church? All the time on her hands, she tells me, and she can put it to use with the lessons, as she’s always wanted to play. As if she didn’t have a world of time before she moved in with Maureen, and—”
Meara held up both hands as if calling herself to a halt. “No, I’ll say nothing negative about it. She’s there, not here, happy not unhappy and flustered, and Maureen herself tells me it’s lovely to have her.”
“Nothing but good news there then.”
“Well, she’s marking some of the world of time she now has by sending me a lorry-load of suggestions for the wedding. Photos of gowns that would make me look like a giant princess wearing a wedding cake, and require so much tulle and lace there’d be none left in the whole of Mayo. Here.” Meara reached in her pocket, pulled out her phone. “Have a look at her last vision for me.”
Branna studied once Meara had scrolled to the image, a dress with an enormous skirt fashioned of stacked layers of tulle, and that decked with lace and beads and ribbons.