“Which was last week,” Hank pointed out.
Aidan stared at the box, his frustration about Dylan and the mysterious Seattle man temporarily forgotten. His grandfather’s treasure box—the one that had sat on the mantle like a guardian of secrets, unopened since Patrick O’Hara’s death three years ago.
“Whatever’s in there,” he said slowly, “it’s going to complicate my life, isn’t it?”
“When has anything from Grandda ever been simple?” Wyatt asked with the wisdom of the youngest son.
Anne set the box before Aidan with the ceremony it deserved. “Open it.”
Inside, nestled on velvet the color of old wine, lay a claddagh ring. The silver caught the light like captured moonbeams, its surface polished, though well worn—two hands holding a crowned heart, the ancient symbol of love, loyalty, and friendship that had traveled from Ireland with the first O’Hara to seek his fortune in America.
“This ring,” Mick began, his voice taking on the cadence of inherited memory, “has been in our family for three hundred years. It came across during the famine years, survived everything America could throw at an Irish family, and now it comes to you—the last unmarried O’Hara son.”
“I’m perfectly happy being unmarried,” Aidan said, though even to his own ears it sounded hollow. Especially with the image of Dylan listening intently to whatever that Seattle man was selling burning in his mind.
“Are you?” Anne asked gently.
“There’s more,” Mick said, gesturing to the box.
Beneath the velvet was an envelope, sealed with wax the color of dried blood. Written across the front in their grandfather’s distinctive scrawl—To be opened only by the final bachelor O’Hara.
Aidan broke the seal and unfolded the letter, his grandfather’s words rising from the page like smoke from a peat fire.
“‘My dear boy—and I know it’s you, Aidan. You got my looks and my charm, which means you’ve got my weakness too. You think life’s a dance where you never have to pick a partner for more than one song.
“‘By now, they’ve shown you the ring. It’s a fine ring, and it’s served the family well. But here’s the truth of it, boy—that’s not the real ring.’”
There was a collective gasp around the table, and they all started talking at once. But Mick just raised his hand and everyone quieted back down.
Aidan continued. “‘The real claddagh ring, the one blessed by a priest in Galway before the hunger took half of Ireland, is hidden. I’ve left it somewhere on this land, along with clues to find it. Why? Because nothing worth having comes easy, and love least of all.
“‘You want to know the secret of the O’Haras? It’s not charm or looks or the gift of the gab. It’s knowing how to work for something. How to earn it. Your grandmother made me prove myself seven times before she’d be my wife.
“‘So here’s your first clue—Where iron horses once ran free, / before the mountain came to be, / Where settlers first put down their claim, / before O’Hara was our name.
“‘Find the ring, boy. But more than that, find someone worth giving it to. Someone who’ll make you want to stop dancing and finally learn to stand still.
“‘With love and a gentle push, Patrick Michael O’Hara.
“‘PS. Don’t let your brothers help. They mean well, but this is your adventure. Find someone clever, with brains and heart. And for the love of all that’s holy, find someone who can’t be charmed by that smile of yours.’”
The room erupted in overlapping voices, but Aidan’s mind had already gone to one person. Dylan. She could solve any puzzle, had a mind that worked in ways that constantly surprised him, and she was absolutely, completely immune to his charm. If anything, she seemed to find him vaguely annoying most days.
“Iron horses—that’s trains,” Raven was saying.
“The old railroad bed runs through the property,” Wyatt added.
But Aidan was thinking about Dylan, about the way she’d looked that morning working on the Barracuda, completely absorbed in bringing something beautiful back to life. About how she’d promised to come to book club Thursday but probably wouldn’t. About how some businessman from Seattle was trying to steal her away when Aidan had only just realized?—
Realized what? That he’d been watching her for years without really seeing her? That her careful distance had become a challenge he wanted to overcome? That the thought of her leaving Laurel Valley made his chest tight with something that felt dangerously close to panic?
“You know who’s clever,” Sophie said with studied innocence. “Dylan Flanagan. She’s got the kind of mind that could solve your grandfather’s riddles.”
“If she’s not too busy considering job offers from Seattle,” Raven added, and Aidan didn’t miss the look that passed between his sisters-in-law.
“Job offers?” Aidan’s voice was sharper than intended.
“That’s what Shannon thought,” Sophie said. “All those documents he was showing her? Looked very official. Very lucrative. The kind of opportunity that could change someone’s life.”
