two obviously Hispanic, Spanish-speaking children. Although she had no doubt Conall had mentioned them.
The house was a white-painted bungalow. The backyard was enclosed by a six-foot board fence, gate closed. The lot was a large one for being in town, and it looked like there might be a smaller house in back.
The Suburban came a stop behind a massive black SUV. Conall set the brake and turned off the engine. Nobody moved. After a minute, Lia turned to look at him. Really look at him. That was the moment when she realized he was even more nervous than she was.
“Have you met your brothers’ wives?” she asked.
“Duncan’s. Her name is Jane. We said hello the other night.”
“But not Niall’s.”
“No.” Staring at the still-closed gate, he looked grim unto death.
“Aren’t we getting out?” Walker asked.
Somebody had to move. Lia guessed that would be her.
With a smile over her shoulder, she said, “You bet. You can help carry things.” She released her seat belt and got out. The others followed her example. By the time she was distributing covered dishes, the gate had opened, and first kids then adults poured out.
“Oh, let me take that,” one of the women exclaimed, relieving Lia of a casserole dish. “My goodness, you didn’t have to bring so much.” She lifted it closer to her nose and took a whiff. “Although it does smell fabulous.”
“Thank you,” Lia said, pasting a smile on her mouth. “I wanted to make up for you, well, getting saddled with a bunch of strangers.”
The woman’s smile was warm. “Don’t be silly. We’re glad to have you. I should introduce myself, shouldn’t I? I’m Jane, Duncan’s wife.”
“Rowan,” the smaller, blonde woman said. A little girl pressed close to her side. A boy, much bolder, had already approached Walker and Brendan.
“Hi. My name’s Desmond. This is my house. I’m seven. How old are you?”
“I’m eight,” Walker said. “And my brother is ten.”
“Oh. You want to come meet my dog? His name’s Super Sam.”
Super Sam broke the ice. A homely but happy creature with a tail whapping back and forth like a metronome, he licked hands and whined and tried to stick his nose under the napkin covering the dish Brendan carried. One of the men lifted it out of danger in the nick of time.
“Sam! You have to wait for leftovers.”
Lia felt herself relaxing. Everyone looked friendly. Except she hadn’t seen Duncan yet. This man must be Niall, the middle brother. He and Conall bore a close resemblance, but he had short-cropped hair that was a deep auburn.
He gripped Conall’s shoulder. “Good to see you.”
“And you.” Conall produced one of his charming smiles for the women. “Jane. And you must be Rowan.”
Introductions followed. The little girl’s name was Anna. Conall drew Sorrel out and coaxed her into saying hello. Eventually they all moved into the big backyard with a huge apple tree, a small cottage at the rear of the property, and a smoking barbecue grill being tended by the other brother, whose gaze moved swiftly but thoroughly over all of them before he nodded a greeting. He was the harshest-looking of the three men, she thought, until his eyes rested briefly on his wife and his face softened.
“I heard a few squalls from the house,” he said.
Jane sighed. “Thinking she’d nap while I ate was too good to be true.”
“We’ll take turns,” he said.
“A baby?” Lia accompanied the other two women into the house, leaving Sorrel standing beside Conall. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, but her hands kept twitching as if she didn’t know where to put them.
“I’m sorry we don’t have one her age,” Rowan murmured, setting Lia’s bean salad on the counter and nodding toward the teenager.
Lia laughed. “That’s asking a bit much. Sorrel is good with babies, if Jane wants to add her to the rotation while she eats.”
Jane reappeared with a beautiful, redheaded girl. “Meet Fiona, just shy of six months. And if Sorrel would like to hold her, many blessings on her.”
The two women were obviously friends, but they included Lia with such warmth, she had mostly relaxed by the time they went back outside.
The first hamburgers and hotdogs were ready for buns and condiments. Rowan told everyone to grab plates and go into the kitchen to dish up.
“After,” she said, grabbing her son as he started dashing by, “washing hands.” She leveled a look at Lia’s two foster sons. “You, too.”
They both looked alarmed but nodded.
“And you, pumpkin,” she said more quietly, shooing