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“Are you planning on doing the same to me, Linc Buchanan?” Eoghan called, opening his arms. “I might let you today.”
Linc gave a full-wattage grin. “Might as well,” he said, lifting the little man up in the air as they all laughed. “Well, friends, let’s get over to our beloved arts center and take that bastard Malcolm Coveney down. So far, this has been what we call a red-letter day.”
“Yeah, youdidfaint,” Bets said with a cheeky grin. “I should have taken a photo.”
“I’m never going to live that down.” He slapped his hands together. “Taylor, wait until you see Bets’ new rose. I have a hundred bucks that says it stays alive like that rose inBeauty and the Beast.”
“You and that movie,” Bets mused.
“I adore that movie,” Taylor said, doing a twirl like a proper Disney princess. “I’d love to see a real magic rose.”
“Actually,” Bets said, “I’m betting Linc I’m going to be able to bare root it and win the rose competition with it someday.”
Liam put his arm around his mother’s shoulders. “I think that’s what Dad intended.”
They both shared a long look before she nudged him. “Why didn’t you tell me your father said he approved of Linc?” she asked.
“I’ll tell you on the way to the car,” Liam said as he took her arm.
Linc and Eoghan both gestured for Taylor to precede them, every bit the old-world gentlemen this evening, before joining her. She took one last look over her shoulder. The tower of fire was losing its strength, rather like the two people they’d been fighting.
“So if you have the evidence on Malcolm, what’s next?” Linc asked.
“Arthur writes an exposé and then hands the evidence over to the proper authorities,” she answered. “Between Liam being released and someone in the government cutting Mary’s benefits off, I’m starting to think we have a guardian angel.”
“So long as it’s not someone in ghost form.” Linc shuddered. “I told Bets I couldn’t take another ghost. Sorcha is enough.”
That made Taylor remember how she and Liam hadn’t discussed the solution to that problem yet. “I wasn’t so sure what to make of her at first, but I’ve become a fan.”
“Haven’t we all?” Linc mused, his smile ticking up to the right. “I’ll see you at the center.”
She nodded. Eoghan touched her hand as he got into the vehicle. Liam was still speaking quietly with his mother, his hand on her cheek. She was glad they were having a moment too. Liam had sensed his mother was feeling a little out of sorts about his change in relationship status. That had upset him some, but looking at them now, they were going to sail through it just fine. They were both crying, but they were smiling too. Although she would totally ask him later about his dad showing up again. Did that mean he was going to be around too? She let out a breath. One step at a time.
She gave the fire one last look. The whole event seemed a statement about the kind of devastation some people could lay on themselves and those around them. But Liam had told her fire was cleansing, and as she gazed on it, she hoped that would be so. She also hoped they’d seen the last of Mary Kincaid.
Then she smelled oranges and smiled.
Somehow, she knew Sorcha was trying to tell her Mary Kincaid was gone but good.
CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE
Liam had never been one to pay much attention to the news.
A person could become dispirited from reading so much negativity. But once Arthur Hale’s exposé was published in the newspaper he’d founded, major newspapers around the world picked it up for its tie-in with the recent news about internationally famous and beloved Veritas.
Schadenfreudewas a peculiar aspect of humans, Liam thought—the pleasure one experienced from another person’s troubles. Even he’d had to guard against sinking into it as the national news showed Malcolm being put into a Garda car at his Watertown office and taken to Dublin on multiple charges of corruption, fraud, money laundering, and the like. The list was endless, as were the people involved—government officials, business leaders, and even a celebrity or two.
Ireland hadn’t seen such a massive story on corruption in over thirty years, and public trust had fallen to its lowest level. How many apples could be rotten in the proverbial barrel?
All of them, it seemed, and while few were surprised, no one was happy about it.
Well, no one but Arthur Hale, who arrived at the special arts center party to commemorate the story wearing anI Am VeritasT-shirt along with his lovely wife, who had on a thick pale green sweater she’d knitted herself.
He and Taylor were currently gathered in Kathleen’s shed with the honored guests along with Trevor, Quinn, and J.T. Merriam, mostly because Clara had wanted to see the pirate ship’s progress so far.
She beamed at it, and then at Taylor. “Arthur has been all rosy-cheeked and walking around with a spring in his step since this started. Thank you, Taylor. It’s just the juice I needed to get him to make another trip to the village we work with in Kenya. It will be at the tail end of the migration season. Have you ever seen it? You two must come and visit!”
“It’s really something else,” J.T. added, standing between Trevor and Quinn. “If you can stand the flies.”
