Some of the younger Cavanaughs with very small children had said their good-nights and then gone home. But a lot of the others with sleepy children had availed themselves of portable cribs or one of the beds that had been left standing in rooms that Andrew’s five adult children had long since vacated. This way, tired grandchildren and grand-nephews-and-nieces had somewhere to lie down and, most likely, recharge their batteries. It was an exceedingly family-friendly house, Brian had told her during one of her first visits, and always had been. Right now, she found it difficult to move around without tripping over some member of the family, or, in some cases, a member-to-be. And everyone, apparently, seemed to be in excellent spirits. There were no arguments, no nasty flares of temper over some sensitive subject. As a general rule, everyone within the Cavanaugh domain seemed to get along. She supposed, if she had to be part of a larger family than the one she’d been born into, this one wasn’t all that bad.
