There was little that made her happier than having her hands in soil. Grunting a bit, she hefted a bag of potting mix onto the bench.

Next year, she promised herself, she’d have a professional greenhouse. Not a large one, but a fine one nonetheless. She’d take cuttings and root them, force bulbs so that she could have spring any time of year she liked. Perhaps she’d even attempt some grafting. But for the moment she was content to baby her seeds.

In days, she mused, humming along with the radio, the first tender sprigs would push through the soil. True it was a horrid expense, the luxury of fuel to warm them. It would have been wiser to use the money to have her car overhauled.

But it wouldn’t be nearly so much fun.

She sowed, gently patting dirt, and let her mind drift.

How sweet Gray had been the night before, she remembered. Cuddling with her in the kitchen. It hadn’t been so frightening, nor, she admitted, so exciting, as when he’d kissed her. This had been soft and soothing, and so natural it had seemed, just for a moment, that they’d belonged there together.

Once, long ago, she’d dreamed of sharing small, sweet moments like that with someone. With Rory, she thought with an old, dull pang. Then she’d believed she’d be married, have children to love, a home to tend to. What plans she’d made, she thought now, all rosy and warm with happy ever after at the end of them.

But then, she’d only been a girl, and in love. A girl in love believed anything. Believed everything. She wasn’t a girl now.

She’d stopped believing when Rory had broken her heart, snapped it into two aching halves. She knew he was living near Boston now, with a wife and a family of his own. And, she was sure, with no thought whatever of the young sweet springtime when he’d courted her, and promised her. And pledged to her.

That was long ago, she reminded herself. Now she knew that love didn’t always endure, and promises weren’t always kept. If she still carried a seed of hope inside that longed to bloom, it hurt no one but herself.

“Here you are!” Eyes dancing, Maggie burst into the shed. “I heard the music. What in the world are you up to in here?”

“I’m planting flowers.” Distracted, Brianna swiped the back of her hand over her cheek and smeared it with soil. “Close the door, Maggie, you’re letting the heat out. What is it? You look about to burst.”

“You’ll never guess, not in a thousand years.” With a laugh, Maggie swung around the small shed, grabbing Brianna’s arms to twirl her. “Go ahead. Try.”

“You’re having triplets.”

“No! Praise God.”

Maggie’s mood was infectious enough to have Brianna chuckle and fall into the rhythm of the impromptu jig. “You’ve sold a piece of your glass for a million pounds, to the president of the United States.”

“Oh, what a thought. Maybe we should send him a brochure. No, you’re miles off, you are, miles. I’ll give you a bit of a hint then. Rogan’s grandmother called.”

Brianna blew her tumbling hair out of her eyes. “That’s a hint?”

“It would be if you’d put your mind to it. Brie, she’s getting married. She’s marrying Uncle Niall, next week, in Dublin.”

“What?” Brianna’s mouth fell open on the word. “Uncle Niall, Mrs. Sweeney, married?”

“Isn’t it grand? Isn’t it just grand? You know she had a crush on him when she was a girl in Galway. Then after more than fifty years they meet again because of Rogan and me. Now, by all the saints in heaven, they’re going to take vows.” Tossing back her head, she cackled. “Now as well as being husband and wife, Rogan and I will be cousins.”

“Uncle Niall.” It seemed to be all Brianna could manage.

“You should have seen Rogan’s face when he took the call. He looked like a fish. His mouth opening and closing and not a word coming out.” Snorting with laughter, she leaned against Brianna’s workbench. “He’s never gotten accustomed to the idea that they were courting. More than courting, if it comes to that—but I suppose it’s a difficult thing for a man to imagine his white-haired granny snuggled up in sin.”

“Maggie!” Overcome, Brianna covered her mouth with her hand. Giggles turned into hoots of laughter.

“Well, they’re making it legal now, with an archbishop no less officiating.” She took a deep breath, looked around. “Have you anything to eat out here?”

“No. When is it to be? Where?”

“Saturday next, in her Dublin house. A small ceremony, she tells me, with just family and close friends. Uncle Niall’s eighty if he’s a day, Brie. Imagine it.”

“I think I can. Oh, and I do think it’s grand. I’ll call them after I’ve finished here and cleaned up.”

“Rogan and I are leaving for Dublin today. He’s on the phone right now, God bless him, making arrangements.” She smiled a little. “He’s trying to be a man about it.”

“He’ll be happy for them, once he gets used to it.” Brianna’s voice was vague as she began to wonder what sort of gift she should buy the bride and groom.

“It’s to be an afternoon ceremony, but you may want to come out the night before so you’ll have some time.”

“Come out?” Brianna focused on her sister again. “But I can’t go, Maggie. I can’t leave. I have a guest.”

“Of course you’ll go.” Maggie straightened from the bench, set her jaw. “It’s Uncle Niall. He’ll expect you there. It’s one bloody day, Brianna.”

“Maggie, I have obligations here, and no way to get to Dublin and back.”

“Rogan will have the plane take you.”

“But—”

“Oh, hang Grayson Thane. He can cook his own meals for a day. You’re not a servant.”

Brianna’s shoulders stiffened. Her eyes turned cool. “No, I’m not. I’m a businesswoman who’s given her word. I can’t dance off for a weekend in Dublin and tell the man to fend for himself.”

“Then bring him along. If you’re worried the man will fall over dead without you to tend him, bring him with you.”

“Bring him where?” Gray pushed open the door, eyed both women cautiously. He’d seen Maggie go dashing into the shed from his bedroom window. Curiosity had eventually brought him out, and the shouting had done the rest.