“And Patricia?”

“She’s in Dublin still. Between the baby and the school, she couldn’t get away.”

“Oh, the baby, and how is she?”

“Beautiful. Looks like her mother.” Joseph looked at Gray then, held out a hand. “You’d be Grayson Thane? I’m Joseph Donahue.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Gray, Joseph manages Rogan’s gallery in Dublin. I thought you’d met at the wedding.”

“Not technically.” But Gray shook in a friendly manner. He remembered Joseph had a wife and daughter.

“I’ll have to get it out of the way and tell you I’m a big fan.”

“It’s never in the way.”

“It happens I brought a book along with me, thinking I could pass it along to Brie to pass it to you. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind signing it for me.”

Gray decided he could probably learn to like Joseph Donohue after all. “I’d be glad to.”

“It’s kind of you. I should tell Maggie you’re here. She wants to tour you about herself.”

“It’s a lovely job you’ve done here, Joseph. All of you.”

“And worth every hour of insanity.” He gave the room a quick, satisfied glance. “I’ll fetch Maggie. Wander around if you like.” He stopped at the doorway, turned, and grinned. “Oh, be sure to ask her about selling a piece to the president.”

“The president?” Brianna repeated.

“Of Ireland, darling. He offered for her Unconquered this morning.”

“Imagine it,” Brianna whispered as Joseph hurried off. “Maggie being known to the president of Ireland.”

“I can tell you she’s becoming known everywhere.”

“Yes, I knew it, but it seems . . .” She laughed, unable to describe it. “How wonderful this is. Da would have been so proud. And Maggie, oh, she must be flying. You’d know how it feels, wouldn’t you? The way it is when someone reads your books.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“It must be wonderful, to be talented, to have something to give that touches people.”

“Brie.” Gray lifted the end of the soft teal throw. “What do you call this?”

“Oh, anyone can do that—just takes time. What I mean is art, something that lasts.” She crossed to a painting, a bold, colorful oil of busy Dublin. “I’ve always wished . . . it’s not that I’m envious of Maggie. Though I was, a little, when she went off to study in Venice and I stayed home. But we both did what we needed to do. And now, she’s doing something so important.”

“So are you. Why do you do that?” he demanded, irritated with her. “Why do you think of what you do and who you are as second place. You can do more than anyone I’ve ever known.”

She smiled, turning toward him again. “You just like my cooking.”

“Yes, I like your cooking.” He didn’t smile back. “And your weaving, your knitting, your flowers. The way you make the air smell, the way you tuck the corners of the sheets in when you make the bed. How you hang the clothes on the line and iron my shirts. You do all of those things, more, and make it all seem effortless.”

“Well it doesn’t take much to—”

“It does.” He cut her off, his temper rolling again for no reason he could name. “Don’t you know how many people can’t make a home, or don’t give a damn, who haven’t a clue how to nurture. They’d rather toss away what they have instead of caring for it. Time, things, children.”

He stopped himself, stunned by what had come out of him, stunned it had been there to come out. How long had that been hiding? he wondered. And what would it take to bury it again?

“Gray.” Brianna lifted a hand to his cheek to soothe, but he stepped back. He’d never considered himself vulnerable, or not in too many years to count. But at the moment he felt too off balance to be touched.

“What I mean is what you do is important. You shouldn’t forget that. I want to look around.” He turned abruptly to the side doorway of the parlor and hurried through.

“Well.” Maggie stepped in from the hallway. “That was an interesting outburst.”

“He needs family,” Brianna murmured.

“Brie, he’s a grown man, not a babe.”

“Age doesn’t take away the need. He’s too alone, Maggie, and doesn’t even know it.”

“You can’t take him in like a stray.” Tilting her head, Maggie stepped closer. “Or can you?”

“I have feelings for him. I never thought I’d have these feelings for anyone again.” She looked down at her hands that she’d clutched together in front of her, deliberately loosened then. “No, that’s not true. It’s not what I felt for Rory.”

“Rory be damned.”

“So you always say.” And because of it, Brianna smiled. “That’s family.” She kissed Maggie’s cheek. “Tell me, how does it feel having the president buy your work?”

“As long as his money’s good.” Then Maggie threw back her head and laughed. “It’s like going to the moon and back. I can’t help it. We Concannons just aren’t sophisticated enough to take such things in stride. Oh, I wish Da. . .”

“I know.”

“Well.” Maggie took a deep breath. “I should tell you that the detective Rogan hired hasn’t found Amanda Dougherty as yet. He’s following leads, whatever that may mean.”

“So many weeks, Maggie, the expense.”

“Don’t start nagging me about taking your housekeeping money. I married a rich man.”

“And everyone knows you wanted only his wealth.”

“No, I wanted his body.” She winked and hooked her arm through Brianna’s. “And your friend Grayson Thane has one a woman wouldn’t sneeze at, I’ve noticed.”

“I’ve noticed myself.”

“Good, shows you haven’t forgotten how to look. I had a card from Lottie.”

“So did I. Do you mind if they stay the third week?”

“For myself Mother could stay in that villa for the rest of her natural life.” She sighed at Brianna’s expression. “All right, all right. It’s happy I am that she’s enjoying herself, though she won’t admit to it.”