Jessica looked from her mother to her aunt. They looked so much alike, yet were so different. Aunt Sam was tall and thin, with full, wavy red hair and fun-loving green eyes. Her mother was tall but not quite as thin, with straight dark hair cut chin-length. Her eyes were the same sea green as her sister's; for a long time, Jessica had wondered where the fun had gone. There had once been fire there, and mischief, and excitement—as if she believed that something wonderful was about to happen.

Her mother's eyes had lost that, for a long time. But now, watching the two sisters putting on their cowboy boots, gathering up their fiddles, Jessica could see the fun and fire coming back.

“You could go down to Connecticut after the concert,” Aunt Sam said. “And help Lily in court. You have a few things you could tell the judge that would keep Edward out of Rose's life.”

“About Tally!” Jessica said.

“And other things,” her mother said.

“I want to go too,” Jessica said. “To be with Rose.”

“He would be there, Jess. We'd have to see him.”

Jessica thought of Tally, and she thought of the baby seals, and she thought of Lily and Rose and Nanny—she would help them all if she could. “Mom,” Jessica said, “they're our friends, and we love them. I want to go.”

“So do I,” her mother said.

“We could all go,” Sam said. “I'd like to be there too.”

“Oh, Sam . . .”

Jessica's mother was smiling so wide, and Aunt Sam looked so fierce and protective, sparks glistening in her eyes.

“First,” Aunt Sam said, “we have a ceili festival to win.”

“Look out,” Jessica said. “Here come the Flying Angels.”

“It's Fallen—” Aunt Sam started to say, but Jessica's mother stopped her.

“I think we need a new name,” she said. “And I think Jessica just gave it to us.”

The excitement had built all week, and now, on the last day of the ceili, the moment had come at last: for all finalists to take the stage and play the best music of their lives. The inn's lawn was completely packed, with not even an inch of grass to spare. Blankets were side-by-side, and people sat in beach chairs with their knees drawn up. The Nanouk Girls had commandeered a prime spot between the gazebo and the stage. The two grandstands were filled with dignitaries from the town and province, contest judges, and the Neill family—Camille, Jude, Anne, as well as some distant cousins.

Gazing down the long hillside, Marisa saw the sun's rays illuminating the wide blue bay. Mountain shadows turned the surface dark silver, rippling with the wakes of returning fishing boats. She listened to the band playing—a quartet from Ingonish, the uilleann pipes haunting and mystical, their notes hanging in the clear northern air.