I waited, sensing this was important.
“When my parents died, my older brother Malcolm wanted to sell Eidheann. Said it was a money pit, that we should take thecash and invest it.” Patrick’s jaw tightened. “We had a massive row about it.”
“You have a brother?” I was surprised; Patrick had never mentioned him.
“A brother and a sister,” Patrick said.
The pain in his voice was raw, compounded by regret. I reached for his hand, threading my fingers through his.
“After our fight, my sister and I bought him out,” Patrick continued. “I couldn’t let it go. This place... it’s all I have left of them. My parents, my ancestors, even Malcolm in a way.”
Eidheann wasn’t just a family home or a status symbol. It was a physical manifestation of his determination to preserve what mattered, even when it would have been easier to let go.
It made me love him more.
The next day dawned clear and bright, the mist burning off to reveal a landscape painted in vivid greens and purples. Patrick had arranged a small family gathering—a casual lunch on the terrace overlooking the gardens. I was terrified.
“Just a few people,” he assured me as I tried on and discarded the third outfit I’d packed. “My sister Nora, a couple of cousins, and Shannon’s parents, Robert and Margaret.”
I froze, a sweater halfway over my head. “Shannon’s parents?”
Patrick’s expression was apologetic. “They live nearby. They helped care for the little ones after Shannon died. I couldn’t not invite them.”
My stomach clenched with anxiety. Meeting Patrick’s family was nerve-wracking enough, but Shannon’s parents? What would they think of me, the woman who had stepped into their daughter’s place? Would they resent me? Judge me?
“They’re good people,” Patrick said, reading my expression. “They just want to meet you.”
I nodded, swallowing hard. “I’ll be ready in five minutes.”
By the time I descended the grand staircase to the entrance hall, several people had already arrived. Patrick stood talking with a striking woman who shared his height and coloring—his sister Nora, I assumed. Two men who looked to be in their thirties hovered near a table laden with drinks—the cousins, probably.
And standing slightly apart, a silver-haired couple watched the proceedings with quiet dignity. Robert and Margaret Allen. Shannon’s parents.
Patrick spotted me and crossed the room, taking my hand. “There you are. Come meet everyone.”
Nora McCrae enveloped me in a warm hug before I could prepare myself. “Thank God someone finally got through to him,” she said, loud enough for Patrick to hear. “He’s been impossible since—” She stopped herself. “Well, for a long time.”
She was tall and willowy like her brother, with the same blue eyes and auburn hair. Her smile was open and genuine, instantly disarming my nervousness.
“Patrick says you saved your company from corporate raiders,” she continued. “And you have four youngsters? God, I can barely manage my two.”
“Nora’s children are hellions,” Patrick supplied. “Absolute terrors. They take from their mother.”
“More likely their uncle,” Nora shot back, winking at me. “Don’t believe a word he says, Theresa. I was an angel as a child.”
“She set fire to the east wing when she was twelve,” Patrick stage-whispered.
“It was a small fire!” Nora protested. “And it was an experiment for school.”
Their easy banter calmed me, and by the time Patrick introduced me to his cousins—James and Alistair, both lawyers in Edinburgh—I was actually enjoying myself.
Then we approached Robert and Margaret Allen.
An elegant couple in their sixties. Robert was tall and distinguished, with the kind of bearing that suggested military service. Margaret was petite and fair—I could see Shannon in her delicate features and gentle eyes.
“Robert, Margaret,” Patrick said formally. “This is Theresa Carideo.”
I extended my hand, hoping they didn’t notice it was shaking. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”
