“Tell you?” Kate looked blank for a moment, then her eyes cleared. “Oh, you won’t guess who just walked in the door. Maeve Concannon,” she said before anyone could try. “Big as life.”

“Why, Maeve’s not been to a ceili in twenty years!” Diedre said. “More, I think.”

“Well, she’s come, and Lottie with her.”

Brianna and Maggie stared at each other, speechless. then moved quickly, like a unit.

“We’d best go see if she wants a plate,” Brianna explained.

“We’d best go see that she doesn’t storm down the house,” Maggie corrected. “Why don’t you come, Shannon? You had a way with her last time.”

“Well, really, I don’t think—”

But Maggie grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the kitchen and down the hall. “Music’s still playing,” she said under her breath. “She hasn’t put the stops to that.”

“Look, this is none of my business,” Shannon protested. “She’s your mother.”

“I’ll remind you of your own words, about connections.”

“Shit, Maggie.” But Shannon had no choice but to grit her teeth and be propelled into the parlor.

“Sweet Jesus,” was all Brianna could say.

Maeve was sitting, Liam in her lap, tapping her foot to the rhythm of the reel. Her face might have been set, mouth grim, but that tapping foot gave her away.

“She’s enjoying herself.” Astonishment had Maggie’s eyes round and wide.

“Well, for Christ’s sake.” With an ill-tempered jerk, Shannon freed herself. “Why shouldn’t she?”

“She’d never come around music,” Brianna murmured. “Not in all my memory.” As Lottie swung by, dancing a Clare set in the arms of a neighbor, Brianna could only shake her head. “How did Lottie get her to come?”

But Shannon had forgotten Maeve. Across the room, Murphy stood, hip shot, a fiddle clamped between shoulder and chin. His eyes were half closed, so that she thought he was lost in the music his quick fingers and hands made. Then he smiled and winked.

“What are they playing?” Shannon asked. The fiddler was joined by a piper and another who played an accordion.

“That’s Saint Steven’s reel.” Brianna smiled and felt her own feet grow restless. “Ah, look at them dance.”

“Time to do more than look.” Gray snatched her from behind and whirled her into the parlor.

“Why, she’s wonderful,” Shannon said after a moment.

“She’d have been a dancer, our Brie, if things had been different.” Brows knit, Maggie shifted her gaze from her sister to her mother. “Maybe things were different then than they’re beginning to be now.”

After taking a long breath, Maggie stepped into the parlor. After a moment’s hesitation, she made her way through the dancing and sat beside her mother.

“That’s a sight I never thought to see.” Alice stepped next to Shannon. “Maeve Concannon sitting with her daughter at a ceili, her grandson on her knee, her foot tapping away. And very close to smiling.”

“I suppose you’ve known her a long time.”

“Since girlhood. She made her life, and Tom’s, a misery. And those girls suffered for it. It’s a hard thing to fight for love. Now it seems she’s found some contentment in the life she leads, and in her grandchildren. I’m glad for that.”