“If it starts to click, it’ll only take a day or two.” Shannon set the globe aside and took up her pencil again. “When’s the ceili, and what is it?”

“It’s Saturday next, and a ceili’s a kind of party—with music and dancing and food.” She glanced over as Brianna stepped out of the kitchen door. “I’m telling this poor, ignorant Yank what a ceili is. Where’s my whirlwind?”

“Off to the village with Grayson. I’m told it’s man’s business.” Brianna stopped, then beamed at the canvas on the table. “Oh, I’m so flattered. What lovely work you do, Shannon.” She peeked at the new canvas, wary. Experience with Maggie had taught her artists had moods that flared like lightning. “It’s Murphy, isn’t it?”

“It will be,” Shannon murmured, narrowing her eyes as she sketched. “I didn’t realize you were having a party, Brie.”

“A party? Oh, the ceili. No, Murphy’s having it. We were surprised at first, since his family had just come a few weeks ago for Kayla’s baptism. But the lot of them are coming again, so they can meet you.”

Shannon dropped her pencil. Slowly she bent to retrieve it. “Excuse me?”

“They’re anxious to get to know you,” Brianna continued, too engrossed in the canvas to notice that Maggie was rolling her eyes and making faces. “It’s lovely Murphy’s mother and her husband can make the trip from Cork so soon again.”

Shannon turned. “Why would they want to meet me?”

“Because . . .” The warning registered, just a beat too late. Fumbling, Brianna began to brush at her apron. “Well, it’s just that . . . Maggie?”

“Don’t look at me. You’ve already put your foot in it.”

“It’s a simple question, Brianna.” Shannon waited until Brianna lifted her gaze again. “Why would Murphy’s mother and his family come back here to meet me?”

“Well, when he told them he was courting you, they—”

“He what?” She threw the pencil down to cap the explosion. “Is he crazy or just brain dead? How many times do I have to tell him I’m not interested before he gets it through that thick skull?”

“Several times more, I’d wager,” Maggie said with a grin. “There’s a pool in the village that’s leaning toward a June wedding.”

“Maggie!” Brianna said under her breath.

“Wedding?” Shannon made a sound between a groan and a curse. “That tops it. He’s calling out his mother to inspect me, he’s got people betting—”

“Fact is, it was Tim O’Malley who started the pool,” Maggie put in.

“He has to be stopped.”

“Oh, there’s no stopping Tim once a wager’s made.”

Unable to find the humor, Shannon shot Maggie a searing look. “You think it’s funny? People I don’t even know are betting on me?”

Maggie didn’t have to think it over. “Yes.” Then with a laugh, she grabbed Shannon by the shoulders and shook. “Oh, cool yourself down. No one can make you do what you don’t want.”

“Murphy Muldoon is a dead man.”

With less sympathy than amusement, Maggie patted her cheek. “Seems to me you’d not be so fired up if you were as disinterested as you claim. What do you think of the matter, Brie?”

“I think I’ve said more than enough.” But her heart pushed the words out. “He loves you, Shannon, and I can’t help but feel for him. I know what it is to tumble into love and not be able to find your way out, no matter how foolish it makes you. Don’t be too hard on him.”

Temper drained as quickly as it had flashed. “It would be harder, wouldn’t it, for me to let this go on when it isn’t leading anywhere?”

Maggie picked up the sketchbook, then held out the page where Murphy looked out. “Isn’t it?” When Shannon said nothing, Maggie set the book aside again. “The ceili’s more than a week away. You’ll have some time to sort it out.”

“Starting now.” Shannon picked up the watercolor and carried it inside. On the way up to her room, she practiced exactly what she would say to Murphy when she tracked him down.

It was a shame that she would have to break off their friendship just when she’d begun to realize how much it meant to her. But she doubted he would understand anything less than total amputation.

And he’d brought it on himself, the idiot. With an effort, she controlled herself long enough to prop the canvas carefully against the wall of her room. Going to the window, she scanned the fields. After a moment she caught sight of movement near the back of the house.

Dandy. She’d beard the beast in his den.

Her headlong rush took her down the stairs and outside. She was halfway to the gate before she saw the car parked at the side of the road, and Brianna and Maggie on either side of it.

She didn’t have to see to know an argument was in full swing. She could hear it in the sharp, impatient tone of Maggie’s voice. It would have been easy to continue on her way—but she saw Brianna’s face.

It was pale, and rigidly controlled, except for the eyes. Even from two yards away, Shannon could see the hurt in them.

She set her teeth. It seemed it was her day for dealing with emotional crises. And damn it, she was in the perfect mood.

The angry words came to an abrupt halt as she strode to the car and looked down at Maeve.

“Shannon.” Brianna gripped her hands together. “I never introduced you to Lottie. Lottie Sullivan, Shannon Bodine.”

The woman with the round face and beleaguered expression continued the process of climbing out from the driver’s side.

“I’m pleased to meet you,” she said with a quick, apologetic smile. “And welcome.”

“Get in the car, Lottie,” Maeve snapped. “We’re not staying.”

“Drive yourself off then,” Maggie snapped right back. “Lottie’s welcome here.”

“And I’m not?”

“It’s you who’s made that choice.” Maggie folded her arms. “Make yourself miserable if you like, but you won’t do this to Brie.”

“Mrs. Concannon.” Shannon nudged Maggie aside. “I’d like to speak with you.”