The house had changed here and there over the years. Hadn’t she and her father laid the new floor in the kitchen—as pretty a blue as a summer sky—not five winters back? And she herself had papered Darcy’s room with that lovely pattern of baby rosebuds the June before last.

But though there’d been a bit of fussing here and fussing there, the heart of the house remained the same. It was a welcoming place, and the walls seemed to ring with music even when no one was playing.

Now that Aidan and Jude lived there, fresh flowers were always tucked into vases and bowls and bottles, as Jude had a fondness for them. And Brenna knew Jude had plans to do more planting in the spring and had talked of having Brenna build her an arbor.

Something old-fashioned was needed, to Brenna’s mind, to suit the look of the house with its old stone and sturdy wood and carelessly sprawling lines. She had something in her head she thought would suit, and would get to it by and by.

Even as she entered the house with a scowl, the sound of Darcy’s laugh tripping down the steps had her lips twitching. Females, she thought as she headed upstairs, were so much more comfortable than men.

Most men, most of the time.

She found them in what had been Shawn’s room, though there was little left of him there save the bed and his old dresser. He’d taken the shelves that he’d had crammed with music with him to Faerie Hill, and his fiddle and bodhran drum as well.

The rug was still there, a faded old maroon. She’d sat on it countless times, pretending to be bored while he’d played some tune.

The first time she’d fallen in love, it had been with Shawn Gallagher’s music. So long ago, she thought now, she couldn’t remember the song or the time. It was more an always sort of thing. Not that she’d ever let him know that. To her way of thinking you got a body moving quicker with pokes than with strokes. Though God knew, so far neither had inspired the man to move off his butt and do a blessed thing with his tunes.

She wanted it for him, the mule of a man. Wanted him to do what he’d been destined to do and take his music to the world.

But, she reminded herself, it wasn’t her problem, and gnawing over it again in her mind wasn’t why she’d come here today.

This, she thought, pursing her lips, was Jude’s problem.

The walls were a mess, Brenna decided with a quick scan. Outlines where Shawn had hung pictures and whatnot stood out against the sun-faded paint. Dozens of nail holes pocked the walls as well, proving the man didn’t have a way with a hammer.

But she could recall that whenever his mother had a whim to deal with his room, he’d just smiled and told her not to bother. He liked it just as it was.