"With so many children, you'd need room." Jude accepted the tea and two golden sugar cookies. "Brenna said you have five daughters."

"Five that sometimes seems like twenty when the lot of them are running around tame. Brenna's the oldest, and her father's apple. My Maureen's getting married next autumn, and driving us all mad with it and her squabbles with her young man, and Patty's just gotten herself engaged to Kevin Riley and will, I'm sure, be putting us through the same miseries as Maureen is before much longer. Then my Mary Kate's at the university in Dublin, studying computers of all things. And little Alice Mae, the baby, spends all her time with animals and trying to talk me into taking in every broken-winged bird in County Waterford."

Mollie paused. "And when they're not here, underfoot, I miss them something terrible. As I'm sure your mother's missing you with you so far from home."

Jude made a noncommittal sound. She was sure her mother thought of her, but actively miss her? She couldn't imagine it, not with the schedule her mother kept.

"It-" Jude broke off, goggling as harsh, vicious curses erupted from the rear of the house.

"Damn you to fiery hell, you bloody, snake-eyed bastard. I've a mind to drop your worthless hulk off the cliffs myself."

"Brenna takes after her dad in other aspects as well," Mollie continued, topping off the tea with a serene grace as her daughter's curses and threats were punctuated by banging and crashing. "She's a fine, clever girl, but a bit short of temper. So, she tells me you've an interest in flowers."

"Ah." Jude cleared her throat as the cursing continued. "Yes. That is, I don't know much about gardening, but I want to keep up the flowers at the cottage. I was going to buy some books."

"That's fine, then. You can learn a lot from books, though for Brenna she'd rather be tied facedown on a hill of ants than have to read about the workings of a thing.

Prefers to rip it apart for herself. Still, I've a bit of a hand with a garden myself. Maybe you'd like to take a walk around with me, take a look at what I've done. Then you could tell me what it is you've a need to know."

Jude set down her cup. "I'd really like that."

"Fine. Let's leave Brenna alone so she can raise the roof without us worrying it'll crash down on our heads." She rose, hesitated. "Could I see your hands?"

"My hands?" Baffled, Jude held them out, found them firmly gripped.

"Old Maude had hands like yours. Of course, they were old and troubled with the arthritis, but they were narrow and fine, and I imagine her fingers were long and straight and slender like yours when she was young. You'll do, Jude." Mollie held her hands a moment longer, met her eyes. "You've good hands for flowering."

"I want to be good at it," Jude said, surprising herself.

And Mollie's eyes warmed. "Then you will be."

The next hour was sheer delight. Shyness and reserve melted away as Jude fell under the spell of the flowers and Mollie's innate patience.

Those feathery leaves were larkspur that Mollie said would bloom in soft and showy colors, and the charming bicolored trumpets were columbine. Dancing around as they chose were flowers with odd and charming names like flax and pinks and lady's mantel and bee balm.

She knew she'd forget names, or mix them up, but it was a wonder to be shown which bloomed in spring, what would flower in summer. What was hardy and what was delicate. What drew the bees and the butterflies.

She didn't feel foolish asking what she was certain were almost childishly basic questions. Mollie would just smile or nod and explain.

"Old Maude, we would trade back and forth, a clump or a cutting or some seeds. So most of what I have here, you have at the cottage. She liked romantic flowers, and me the cheerful. So between us we ended up with both. I'll walk up your way one day, if you wouldn't mind, and take a look to see if there's something you need to be doing that you're not."

"I'd appreciate that so much, especially knowing how busy you are."

Mollie cocked her head; her face was bright, as cheerful as her gardens. "You're a nice girl, Jude, and I'd enjoy spending some time with you now and again over the gardens. And you've a pretty bit of polish on you. I wouldn't mind seeing some of it rub off on my Brenna. She's a wide heart and a clever mind, but she's rough on the edges."

Mollie's gaze drifted over Jude's shoulder, and she sighed. "Speaking of it. Have you finally killed the beast, then, Mary Brenna?"

"It was a struggle, a battle of sweat and tears, but I won." Brenna swaggered around the side of the house. There was a smear of grease on her cheek and a dry crust of blood over her left knuckles. "It'll run for you now, Ma."

"Damn it, girl, you know I've my heart set on a new one."

"Ah, that one's years left in it." Cheerfully, she kissed her mother's cheek. "I've got to get on now. I've promised to go by and see to fixing the windows in Betsy Clooney's house. Do you want to ride back with me, Jude, or would you rather stay awhile?"

"I should get back. I really enjoyed myself, Mollie. Thank you."

"You come back whenever you want a bit of company."

"I will. Oh, I left my purse inside. I'll just run in and get it, if that's all right."

"Go right on." Mollie waited until the door shut. "She's thirsty," she murmured.

"Thirsty, Ma?"

"For doing. For being. But she's afraid to drink too fast. It's wise to take things in small sips, but once in a while-"

"Darcy thinks Aidan has his eye on her."

"Oh, is that so?" Amused, Molly turned to wiggle her eyebrows at her daughter. "That would be some fine and fast drinking now, wouldn't it?"

"Darcy told me she once spied on him while he was courting the Duffy girl, and when he'd finished kissing the lass, she staggered like a drunk."

"Darcy's no business spying on her brothers," Mollie said primly, then slid her gaze back to Brenna. "Which Duffy girl? Tell me later," she added quickly when Jude came out again.

"So you had a nice visit then," Brenna began when they slid back into the truck.

"Your mother's wonderful." On impulse, Jude swiveled to wave as Brenna pulled out of the drive with her usual speed and enthusiasm. "I'll never remember half of what she told me about gardening, but it's a good start."

"She'll like having you to talk with. Patty has a hand with flowers, but she's got her head in the clouds over Kevin Riley these days and spends most of her time sighing and looking moony."

"She's awfully proud of you and your sisters."

"That's part of a mother's job."

"Yes, but it doesn't always glow out of them," Jude decided. "You're probably used to it, so you don't really notice, but it's a lovely thing to see."

"Being what you are," Brenna mused, "you pay more attention to such things. Do you learn that, or do you just have it in you?"

"I suppose it's both-like the way I noticed that she was proud you'd been able to fix the refrigerator, even though she was hoping you couldn't."

Brenna turned her head to laugh into Jude's eyes. "Nearly didn't manage it this time, frigging temperamental heap. But the thing is, my dad's wheeled a deal for a brand-new one, oh, and a beauty it is, too. But we can't seal the bargain and have it delivered for another week or two. So if we're to keep the pleasure of the surprise, that wheezing son of a bitch has to last a bit longer."

"That's so lovely." Jude embraced the idea of it, then tried to imagine her mother's reaction if she and her father surprised her with a new refrigerator.

Bafflement, Jude imagined, and not a little insult. Amused by the idea, she chuckled. "If I gave my mother a major appliance as a gift, she'd think I'd lost my mind."

"But then, your mother's a professional woman, as I recall."

"Yes, she is, and she's wonderful at her job. But your mother's a professional woman, too. A professional mother."

Brenna blinked, then her eyes gleamed with amused pleasure. "Oh, she'll like that one. I'll be sure to save that for the next time she's ready to kick my ass over something. Well, look here at what's strolling up the road, handsome as two devils and just as dangerous."

Even as Jude's lovely relaxation sprang into one sticky ball of tension, Brenna was braking at the narrow drive of the cottage and leaning out to call to Aidan.

"There's a wild rover."

"Never, no more," he said with a wink, then took the hand she'd laid on the window to examine the skinned knuckles. "What have you done to yourself now?"

"Bloody bastard refrigerator took a bite out of me."

He clucked his tongue, lifted the scrape to his lips. But his gaze drifted to Jude. "And where are you two lovely ladies bound for?"

"I'm just bringing Jude back from a visit with my mother, and I'm off to Betsy Clooney's to bang on her windows."

"If you or your dad has the time tomorrow, the stove at the pub's acting up and Shawn's sulking over it."

"One of us'll have a look."

"Thanks. I'll just take your passenger off your hands."

"Have a care with her," Brenna said as he walked around the truck. "I like her."

"So do I." He opened the door, held out a hand. "But I make her nervous. Don't I, Jude Frances?"

"Of course not." She started to climb out, then ruined the casual elegance she'd hoped for by jerking back again because she'd forgotten to unhook her seat belt.

Before she could fumble with it, Aidan released it himself, then simply nipped her by the waist and lifted her down. Since that tangled her tongue into knots, she didn't manage to thank Brenna again before that young woman, with a wave and a grin, took the truck barreling down the road.