“I think we all need a bit of heartbreak in our lives. The sharpness of that loss defines our path forward. It clears the cobwebs from our vision, helping us to see what we want for our future.”
“That’s a nice way of looking at it. I think I’m a bit embarrassed as well. As a photographer, I’m meant to be objective, not to fall for my subject.”
“Art is nothing without heart. You’re being too hard on yourself. Because if it had worked out and he was the mad love of your life, then you’d be saying it was all meant to be. The point is…you gave it a go. And that’s more important than anything. Never turn your back on a chance at love.”
“You weren’t saying that about Danny O’Sullivan.”
“Ach, that lad was a mess and you and I both knew it.” Aislinn tossed her curls over her shoulder. “A man who preferred a woman in her place and a pint in his hand. He’d never have made a good partner for you.”
“No, I knew that too. But I enjoyed the flirtation.”
“Thank goddess it never went any further than that.”
“I never stayed around long enough. That’s the point – my career doesn’t leave me a lot of time for a relationship.”
“I understand. But traveling like that must become tiring at some point. You’ve worked so hard for so many years… you’ve proven yourself as an artist. Over and over. Isn’t it time to take a break and see what staying in one spot would feel like for you?”
“Isn’t that what I’m doing right now? I’ll be here for months while you’re gone.”
“Sure and you choose to do this when I’m not around to spend the time with you,” Aislinn grumbled, and took a bite of her scone.
“Well, don’t go to Portugal then. I’ll still stay here.”
“Really? Hmmm…” Aislinn drifted away and Kira knew she was thinking about sunny beaches and delicious food.
“See? Take your holiday, Mam. You’ve earned it. How about this? I’ll stay on for a bit longer once you’re home so we get a proper amount of mother-daughter time.”
“Promise?”
“Of course. You’re right, I absolutely can take the time to slow down for a bit.”
“You should explore around here more. Our wilds. We have some amazing spots for photography. You grew up wandering these hills. It might be nice to revisit them now that you’ve gained a new perspective.”
“That’s something I might just do. I do love our hills. Though… probably not today,” Kira said with a laugh and a glance at the rain-lashed windows.
“No. Today is best spent on drawing. Let’s figure out how the gift baskets could look. I need something to do with my energy.”
“Of course.” Kira bent to the notepad, and together they drifted the afternoon away.
Chapter 3
She’d certainly left an impression.
Brogan McCarthy looked up from a recent study on land-use management and stared out the window at the pouring rain for the tenth time since he’d left the little gallery down the road. The woman at the shop had been right – not only did this café have excellent scones, but with a cheerful fire in the corner, lilting music in the background, and moody seascapes on the walls, it also provided a cozy haven from the rain. A variety of sitting spaces, with mismatched chairs and tables, made it feel like walking into someone’s living room and being invited to stay for tea.
It was the perfect spot to settle in for the rest of the afternoon and go over some necessary paperwork, but Brogan couldn’t bring himself to focus. And that was unusual, he thought, pushing the study back in its folder. Leaning back in the cozy armchair he’d chosen by the fire, he kicked his legs out and studied the rain falling in sheets outside the large front window. Periodically, a brave soul would wander past the window, head ducked and shoulders hunched, but for the most part, his view of the sea was unencumbered. The water was foreboding today, reflecting the stormy grey skies, and little white caps tipped the waves of the churning water. Fishing boats, moored for the day, were a burst of color in an otherwise morose picture.
Brogan loved it. He loved the sea as much as he did the land, and embraced nature in all its moody glory. If he didn’t have paperwork to deal with, it was likely he’d be out in the rain, stomping through the