Stepping away from the stove, she moved over to check Iona’s progress. “Well, it’s taking you long enough as you’ve all but placed each slice of potato like an explosive, so careful and precise. But you’ve got that done. Take it over and pour that hot milk right over it.”
“Just pour it over it?”
“Yes, and not drop by drop. Dump it on, put on the cover, stick it in the oven. Timed this first part, for thirty minutes.”
“Okay, got it.” And as if it might explode, Iona let out a breath of relief when she had it inside the oven with the ham.
“You know they shouldn’t both fit in there.”
“They fit as I want them to. Now I think we’ll do a side of the green beans I blanched and froze from the garden last year, then we’ll . . . There’s someone coming now,” she said as she heard the sound of cars. “Let’s just see who it is, and how we can put them to use in here.”
“I’m all for it. You know,” Iona continued as they walked to the front of the cottage, “I think my goal should be to be able to put one really good meal together—figure out what that is, make it my thing. Oh, Iona’s making her brisket. I’m not even sure what brisket is, but it could be mine.”
“A fine goal indeed.”
Branna opened the door. Outside Meara stood beside her truck, Fin climbed out of his, and both Connor and Boyle shoehorned their way out of a bright red Mini.
“Isn’t that the cutest thing?” With a laugh, Iona stepped closer. “How did you guys fit in there?”
“It wasn’t a simple matter,” Connor told her. “Nor was driving it, as Boyle’s knees sat at his ears the whole way. But she cleaned up well, and runs fine enough. Seems a better fit for you.”
“Get in and see,” Meara suggested.
Obliging, Iona slid in, put her hands on the wheel. “Much more my size. Is this from the friend you told me about?” she asked Connor. “It’s great. It’s really adorable, but I don’t think I can afford adorable at this point.”
“But you like it,” he prompted. “The look of it, the color and feel and so on.”
“What’s not to like?” In fact, she could already picture herself driving around like a little red rocket. “It’s just perfect. Do you think he’d consider holding it, letting me pay some now, some later?”
“Well, he might, but it’s already sold.” Connor glanced at Branna, got her nod. “Happy birthday.”
“What?”
“It’s Connor and Boyle who found the car, and we all put in a share to buy it. For your birthday,” Branna added. “Do you think we didn’t know it’s your birthday?”
“I didn’t— I thought with everything that’s going on it was better to— But you can’t just . . . A car? You can’t.”
“Already have,” Connor pointed out. “And whatever else there is, a birthday’s a thing to remember. We’re your circle, Iona. We wouldn’t be forgetting yours.”
“But it’s a car.”
“One that’s over ten years old, and truth be told, wheezes like an asthmatic on damp mornings. Which is nearly daily,” Fin commented. “But she’ll do for you.”
She began to laugh, and to weep. On a combination of both, she scooted out to throw her arms around Connor as he stood closest. Then she spun to each one in turn.
When her body pressed to Boyle’s, her arms squeezed hard around him, he struggled not to make it more. To just let it be.
“I don’t know what to say. Don’t know how to say it. It’s amazing! Beyond amazing. Thank you so much. All of you.”
“There’ll be a bit of paperwork to see to,” Fin put in, “but you can see to it later. Now you should try it out, shouldn’t you?”
“I should drive it. I should drive it.” On another laugh, Iona spun in a circle. “Someone has to go with me on my first voyage. Who wants to go?”
Every man stepped back as one.
“Cowards,” Meara said in disgust. “What do you say, Branna? We could squeeze in.”
“I expect we could, but I’ve dinner on.”