“We’re friends. She’s got Ray’s boat back in the water.”

“You tell her she’s welcome here anytime. I remember losing your grandfather when I was your age. No one’s ever prepared for that. Be nice to the girl.”

“Don’t worry, Mrs. D.,” said Stevie. “Morgan’s taking good care of her.”

Morgan quailed under the piercing stare her mother turned on her and vowed to throw a fresh pile of horse shit at Stevie the moment Shannon left the barn.

“Really? Then you should have her over here for dinner.”

“She’s busy dealing with Ray’s house.”

“That wasn’t a request, Morgan.”

"Ma,” Morgan protested, “you can’t force me to invite people I barely know over to your house. I’m not five.”

“Morgan knows her pretty well,” Stevie supplied helpfully. “We’ve had her over to our house a few times. I like her dog.”

“I’ll make that lamb pie you like.”

“Seriously?” Morgan looked between her mother and Stevie.

“Morgan took her to Sally’s the other night.”

“I’m going to go check on the horse,” she said, glaring at her friend.

The problem with knowing someone her entire life, she decided as she turned her back on the conspirators, was that Stevie felt more like a sister than a friend, right down to her inexplicable habit of throwing Morgan in front of the bus that was her mother. Stevie was the second youngest of five, whereas Morgan was an only child, and she didn’t have the survival skills to counter Stevie’s attacks.

Emilia and Shannon in the same room made Morgan’s skin prickle with unease. Shannon’s lips thinned dangerously each time Kate came up in conversation, and Emilia didn’t need to deal with the fallout of Morgan’s previous relationship. Especially since Emilia wouldn’t be sticking around for long. She tried to bury that thought.

“I’m going to kill you,” she said in a conversational tone when Stevie came to join her.

“I’m sorry.” Stevie’s large blue eyes looked up at Morgan beseechingly.

“That was a dick move.”

“Your mom’s cool.”

“My mother is the Irish goddess of vengeance.”

“Well, it’s not like you’re dating Emilia.”

“But now my mother thinks I am. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Why would she think that?”

“Morgan’s taking good care of her,” Morgan said in a high-pitched imitation of Stevie.

“Well you are. You take good care of everyone. Besides, it’s not like you’ve slept with her.”

Morgan lifted one of the gelding’s hooves and prodded the frog, checking for tenderness.

“Wait,” Stevie said, zeroing in on Morgan’s silence. “You told me nothing happened at Sally’s.”

“He seems sound on this one.” Morgan lowered the front hoof and moved to the back. “I’ll have you run him for me in a minute just to check.”

“Morgan.”