She took the wine Branna offered. “I wanted a moment alone with you, Branna, to tell you what it means to me you and Connor gave her a home, a family.”
“She’s family, and a good friend as well.”
“She’s such a good heart. It was hard for me to send her here. Not to Ireland, not to you.” Mary Kate glanced toward the front of the house. “But to what it would all mean. To send her, knowing what it could mean, and what I know it does. I thought to write to you, to tell you she was coming, and then I thought no, for that would be in the way of asking you, an obligation, to take her in, to help her hone her gifts. And it should be a choice.”
Once more Branna thought of Fin. “Do we have one?”
“I believe we do. I chose to give her the amulet, though it grieved me to do it. Once done it can’t be taken back. But it was hers to wear, hers to bear. I knew the first time I held her. I held you and Connor when you were only babes. And knew, as your father knew, and your aunt. And now the three of you are grown,
and the time’s here, as it wasn’t with me and your father, your aunt.”
She walked to the window, looked out. “I feel him. He won’t bother with me—Iona frets over that, but he won’t bother with me. I’m nothing to him now. But I’ve power enough to help if help’s needed.”
“We may, when the day comes.”
“But that isn’t today.” Mary Kate turned again, smiled again. “So today I’ll help in the kitchen.” She took a long sip of wine. “Nollaig Shona Duit.”
“We’ll see it is.” Branna tapped her glass to Mary Kate’s. “A very happy Christmas.”
• • •
IT TOOK A LITTLE MAGICK TO EXPAND THE TABLE TO FIT seven people and all the food, but she’d wanted a feast—and no more talk of Cabhan.
“We won’t be eating like this tomorrow at my sister’s,” Meara announced as she sampled Branna’s stuffing. “Between Maureen and my mother, we may be in a runoff for the worst cook in Ireland.”
“So we’ll fill up tonight, eat careful there, and be back here for leftovers.” Connor stabbed a bite of goose.
“It’s my first major holiday with Boyle’s family.” Happiness rolled off Iona as she looked around the table. “I’m taking bread pudding—and I won’t be in the runoff, as Nan walked me through it. We’re going to pick a holiday, Boyle, for us to host. Make a tradition. How’re things going on New Year’s, Fin?”
“They’re coming.”
“I could make bread pudding.”
He smiled, adoring her. “I’m having it catered.”
“Catered?”
He flicked a glance at Branna’s instant shock. “Catered,” he said firmly. “I look at a menu, say, this, and that, and some of these, hand over the money, and it’s done.”
“You’ll enjoy the party more without having to fuss,” Mary Kate said lightly.
“It’s for certain everyone will, as they’d enjoy it less if I’d tried my hand at making the food.”
“God’s truth,” Boyle said, with feeling. “He’s hired Tea and Biscuits for the music.”
“You hired a band?”
This time Fin shrugged at Branna. “People want music, and they’re a good band. If guests want to pick up a fiddle or pipe or break out in song, that’s fine as well.”
“It’ll be good craic,” Connor decreed.
“How many are coming?” Branna wondered.
“I don’t know, precisely. I just set the word out.”
“You could have half the county there!”
“I didn’t set word that far out, but if that’s the case, the caterer will be busy.”