Her ears pricked up. “There’s Liam awake.” She passed the baby to Shannon, then went through to Brianna’s bedroom, where she’d laid him down for a nap.

Brianna stepped back to judge the frosting job before she turned. “Other than last evening, did you enjoy your trip to Dublin?”

“Yes. It’s a lovely city. And the gallery there—it’s a religious experience.”

“I’ve thought so myself. You’ve yet to see the one here in Clare. I was hoping we could all go, a kind of outing. Soon.”

“I’d like that. Brianna . . .” She wasn’t sure she was ready to ask. Far less sure she was ready for the consequences.

“Is something troubling you?”

“I think—I’d like to see the letters.” She said it quickly before her courage evaporated. “The letters my mother wrote.”

“Of course.” Brianna laid a hand, support and comfort, on Shannon’s shoulder. “I’ve kept them in my dresser. Why don’t you come into the family parlor, and you can read them.”

But before Shannon could rise, there was a commotion in the hall. Voices fussed and clashed causing the hand on Shannon’s shoulder to tense once, briefly.

“It’s Mother,” she murmured. “And Lottie.”

“It’s all right.” Not at all sure if she was disappointed or relieved, Shannon patted Brianna’s hand. “I’ll look at them later.” She braced for whatever form the confrontation would take.

Maeve swept in first, still arguing. “I tell you I’ll not ask. If you’ve no pride yourself, I can’t stop you from it.” She caught sight of Shannon holding her granddaughter and lifted her chin.

“Well, you’re very much to home, I see.”

“Yes, I am. Brianna makes it impossible to be otherwise. Hello, Mrs. Sullivan.”

“Oh, Lottie, dear. You just call me Lottie like everyone. And how’s my angel today?” She bent over Kayla, cooing. “Look here, Maeve, she’s smiling.”

“Why shouldn’t she? She’s being spoiled right and left.”

“Brianna’s an incredibly loving mother,” Shannon shot back before she could stop herself.

Maeve merely sniffed. “The baby can’t so much as whimper that someone’s not snatching her up.”

“Including you,” Lottie put in. “Oh, Brie, what a lovely cake.”

Resigned that she’d have to bake another now for her guests’ dessert, Brianna took out a knife. “Sit down, won’t you, and have a piece.”

Liam shot out of the adjoining door, five paces ahead of his mother. “Cake!” he shouted.

“Got radar, that boy has.” However gruff her voice, Maeve’s eyes lit up at the sight of him. “There’s a likely lad.”

He beamed at her, sensing an ally, and lifted his arms. “Kiss.”

“Come sit on my lap,” Maeve ordered. “And you’ll have both, the cake and the kiss. He’s a bit flushed, Margaret Mary.”

“He’s just up from his nap. Are you cutting that cake then, Brie?”

“You should have more care with your diet, now that you’re breeding again,” Maeve told her. “The doctor says you’ve the morning sickness this time around.”

It was a toss-up as to who was more shocked by the statement, Maeve or Maggie. Already wishing the words back, Maeve began to feed her grandson bits of cake.