Chapter 14
“So now, thanks to Gram, the whole town will be taking sides,” Luke grumbled to his uncle Mick O’Brien later that evening at the pub. Though the room was crowded and noisy, only Mick was seated at the bar and he was the only O’Brien who’d arrived, giving Luke the perfect opportunity to vent.
Clearly unsympathetic, Mick chuckled. “Which means you finally understand that your sainted grandmother’s got a devious streak. Something tells me this is about far more than Irish stew. The topic alone is not exactly newsworthy, even among the regulars who’ve overheard a few of the squabbles between Bryan and Kiera.”
Though Luke thought he already knew the answer, he asked for Mick’s perspective, hoping he’d gotten it wrong. “Such as?”
“She’s stirring the pot,” Mick said as he sipped his pint of Guinness. “And I’m not referring to the stew that’s always simmering on the stove in your kitchen here.”
“You’re suggesting she sees some sort of future for Bryan and Kiera,” Luke concluded. “And that she’s decided to meddle.”
The prospect was disconcerting. It was one thing for him or Moira to do a bit of scheming here and there, but Gram’s involvement would take it to a whole other level.
“You’ve said it yourself,” Mick confirmed. “There’s a spark between those two. I’ve seen it for myself, as you know. You’ve assumed it was mostly a test of wills over control of the kitchen. Ma sees something else entirely. She’s just doing her part to fan those particular flames. I imagine Dillon’s put her up to it, not that she’d need much encouragement to meddle in a possible romance. The goal was never to simply get Kiera here for a visit. They both believe family belongs together. They’re looking for a way to make sure Kiera stays. Her work visa will come to an end eventually.”
“This fall,” Luke confirmed, then sighed as the pieces fell into place. “Not long after the fall festival, in fact.”
“And there you have it,” Mick said, lifting his pint of ale. “Quite the coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”
“Was Gram this devious when you, Thomas and my dad were growing up?”
“I’d like to think we were always one step ahead of her,” Mick said, then gave him a rueful grin. “But the truth is, we never stood a chance. When it comes to getting her way, there’s no one on this earth more talented than Nell O’Brien. And I say that as someone who knows quite a bit about controlling things so they’ll turn out the way I want them to.”
Moira picked precisely that moment to join them, a scowl on her face. “Are you by any chance referring to this crazy idea of Nell’s to have Bryan and my mother competing on a stage at the fall festival?” she asked, her tone making clear what she thought of the plan.
Luke sighed. “That’s exactly what we were discussing. I don’t think Gram had any idea of what sort of strain it could put on their relationship or the tension it could create here in the pub.”
“Oh, she knew,” Moira said. “Nell doesn’t miss a thing. And we’ve talked about the need for some harmony between them. I thought we were close to achieving that, but have you been in the kitchen tonight? The tension’s so thick we could carve it with one of those knives Bryan’s always sharpening.”
Luke studied his wife. “I thought you were growing used to the idea of some sort of romance developing between your mother and Bryan. Are you opposed now?”
“Not opposed. I just think this is the wrong way to go about it,” Moira said. “Things were moving along at a nice, slow, steady pace, giving them both time to get used to the idea.”
“And you?” Luke suggested.
She scowled at him. “Okay, yes, I need time to adapt, as well. It wasn’t that long ago that she was engaged to a man I’d loved and admired for years. I don’t like to think of her heart as being quite so fickle.”
“So it’s not Bryan you object to?” Mick asked. “Just that Ma’s trying to move things along too fast?”
“Something like that,” Moira agreed.
“Or is it that you wanted to be in charge of the matchmaking?” Luke asked carefully. “And now my grandmother’s taken charge?”
Moira scowled, then sighed. “Okay, maybe that, too.”
“And it goes back to your wanting to be the one to save Kiera and give her a new life,” Luke added, risking his own marital harmony by pointing out the obvious.
“Okay, yes. I’m selfish,” Moira admitted with a huff. “I wanted to be the one responsible for giving her a happier life, for introducing her to Bryan and nudging that along at a nice even pace, so she’d be in too deep before she even realized what was happening.”
“But, Moira, you brought your mother to Chesapeake Shores. It’s because of you that these possibilities for her future exist at all,” Mick said. “If your thought is for your mother’s future, what does it matter who else helps her to reach that end?”
Luke glanced at his uncle. “You say it as if it’s a rational thing,” he said.
“Which it’s not,” Moira admitted. “Her happiness is what matters. Of course it is. If Nell’s scheme works, God bless her for it. I just hope it doesn’t backfire in the short run and make things around here unbearable. We don’t dare fire either one of them.”
Just then the door to the kitchen slammed open and Kiera stepped into view.
“Out of my kitchen!” Bryan’s shout echoed throughout the pub, drawing suddenly fascinated glances and a flurry of whispers. “I won’t have you in here trying to steal my recipes.”
“Stealing, is it? There’s not a one worth having. The ones locked in my head are far superior.”
“Get out!” he repeated.
“My pleasure,” Kiera retorted. “I’ve no need to be around your temper.”
The door snapped closed.
Luke sighed. “Too late,” he commented. “Moira? Which one will you be trying to calm?”
“I’ll talk to my mother,” she said, sounding resigned. “You tackle Bryan and see what it might take to improve his mood. I’m thinking it might require more than a pint of ale and a sounding board to calm him tonight.”
Mick laughed at the evidence of the turmoil his mother had stirred up. “I’ll leave you to it. I don’t have any wish to be caught in the cross fire.”
“If you happen to cross paths with Gram tonight, give her my thanks for this,” Luke said.
“I think she’d probably tell you that it indicates that her mission is on its way toward success,” Mick said, walking away to leave Moira and Luke to deal with the latest fallout from one of his mother’s clever plans.
* * *
“First of all, the competition wasn’t Nell’s idea. It was Bree’s,” Kiera told Moira, when her daughter practically pushed her onto a stool at the end of the bar and demanded to know how she’d allowed herself to be drawn into the whole festival cooking battle.
“If you think Nell wasn’t right in the thick of it, you’re delusional,” Moira said impatiently. “Things in the O’Brien family tend to go exactly the way she wants them to because she knows how to set them into motion. Nell’s a clever one, and most people underestimate her. They think she’s far too honorable to be so sneaky.”
“That’s a terrible thing to say about a woman who’s been nothing but kind to you and your grandfather,” Kiera scolded.
“You’re taking her side, when I’m trying to point out that she’s set you up?” Moira asked indignantly.
“Assuming you’re right, I’m not sure I see that it matters. This whole thing came about to benefit the fall festival.”
“Again, you’re missing the big picture,” Moira insisted. “What happened just now with you and Bryan, that’s the real goal. She wants the fireworks between you to be so loud and so noisy that the entire town and most of the surrounding counties will show up for the cooking competition at the fall festival to watch you compete with your Irish stew. All the other participants are pure window dressing. You two are the main event. It’s not a position I thought you’d care for.”
“It’s all to benefit the festival,” Kiera repeated, stubbornly refusing to concede her daughter’s point.
“Fireworks,” Moira repeated, then explained patiently, “Between you and Bryan. Fireworks leading to romance. That’s the end result Nell is going for.”
As her daughter’s words sank in, Kiera felt her heart lurch. Wasn’t that exactly the opposite of what she’d thought to achieve when she’d agreed to this competition? She’d wanted the distance back, the safety of having the man barely speaking to her.
She thought back to what had happened in the kitchen just moments ago. It hadn’t felt all that safe, if she were being totally honest about it. It had felt exhilarating. The sparks hadn’t pushed them apart. Instead, they had drawn her toward the flame...exactly as Moira seemed to believe Nell had intended.
“Oh dear,” she murmured, recognizing the trap at last.
Her daughter gave a nod of satisfaction. “You’re getting it now?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“And you’ll be on your guard?”
Kiera nodded. She’d be on her guard, alright. Unfortunately at the moment she was having a little difficulty deciding exactly whom the enemy might be.
* * *
Preparations for the town’s Fourth of July celebration were in full swing all over Chesapeake Shores. Storefronts had been draped with red, white and blue bunting. Small flags had been added to all the planters along Main Street and Shore Drive, and the flowers had been changed out to a selection of red, white and blue blooms, all contributed by Bree from her Flowers on Main shop and her husband Jake’s nursery.
In keeping with the color scheme, Sally’s was offering raspberry and blueberry croissants. Ethel’s Emporium had been stocked with flags of every size and holiday-themed T-shirts. Even her selection of penny candy had an abundance of red cherry, blueberry and coconut coloring. Snow cones were similarly swirled with the appropriate colors and flavors.
Every store was offering holiday discounts in anticipation of the crowds that would be coming for the parade, the arts and crafts festival on the green and the fireworks.
“It’s like something out of a picture book,” Kiera said as she walked across the green with her father on the day before the holiday. She glanced at him. “What’s your favorite part?”
“The parade,” Dillon said at once. “Everyone’s included. The town’s veterans lead it off, wearing their uniforms. Businesses create floats, each one trying to outdo the next, and none of them the least bit professional. I think that’s the charm of it—that they’re made out of love of the tradition. The high school band plays. Half the kids in town join in and walk the parade route just to be a part of it.”
Kiera studied her father’s expression. “You’ve really come to love it here, haven’t you?”
He nodded. “And that’s no disrespect to the life I had in Ireland or to my roots there. It’s a matter of adapting to where I am now and the people I’ve come to love as my own family.”
“I wonder if I’ll ever know that sort of peace and acceptance,” Kiera said wistfully. “I keep saying that my home is in Ireland, but when I think back to my life there, it was never easy, not as an adult. I wonder what it is that’s drawing me back there.”
“It’s not always the place,” Dillon told her. “It’s the idea of the place, the memories it holds, even the bad ones, because there’s a sense of security in that. This new place holds a lot of uncertainty for you now. It’s not familiar.” He held her gaze. “Just remember one thing while you’re considering what’s right for your future. Home isn’t just a place. It’s family, and you have that here, Kiera.”
Impulsively, she hugged him. “I’m so glad you and I have found our way back to each other,” she told him quietly. “I know it’s my fault that it took so long. You can’t imagine how deeply I regret that, especially that I had so little time with my mother before we lost her.”
“It’s in the past. The shame would be not to hold tight to what we’ve found again.”
She met his gaze. “You’re saying I should stay,” she said, wishing he would make it so much easier by making it a demand, not a suggestion. But as they both knew, the decision was hers to make, not his. If he tried imposing his will, no matter how welcome it might be on the one hand, on the other it would only stir her rebellious temper.
“I’m saying that you’ll do what’s right for you when the time comes that the decision has to be made. Just don’t be swayed by expectations, mine or yours.”
“Mine?”
“You’ve a knack for thinking that you don’t deserve more from life, Kiera. You expect the worst to come your way. Remember that, and that you have a choice. You can still reach for your dreams. It’s never too late for that.”
It was a lovely sentiment, but she’d stopped dreaming years ago. All the ones she’d ever had had proved elusive.
Dillon smiled. “I can see you building up to an argument,” he told her. “Here’s the thing to remember about dreams. They don’t come true just by wishing for them. Life gives back what you put into it. Work hard and you can achieve even the most impossible of dreams.” He held her gaze, his steady and reassuring. “You know quite a lot about working hard, my darling girl. Put that to good use and the rest will follow.”
Kiera wished it were as easy as he made it sound. Even through her usual skepticism and doubts, though, she felt just the tiniest glimmer of hope.
* * *
With the sun already burning down soon after dawn, Bryan was glad he’d gotten out even earlier than usual for his morning run. As he turned onto Lilac Lane, he found himself hoping to spot a bit of color in his garden, specifically sunlight glinting off auburn hair setting off fiery sparks.
As much as he hated to admit it, he missed the early mornings he’d spent with Kiera in the peacefulness of his garden. They’d exchanged few words, just worked companionably side by side to defeat a common enemy: the weeds that seemed to grow even more robustly than the vegetables.
He sighed. It was this crazy cooking competition they’d been drawn into; Kiera eagerly from what he’d been able to tell. She seemed oddly happy about the battle lines drawn between them and the end to their truce. It shouldn’t bother him the way it did. In fact, he should be thrilled not to be bumping into her in his own backyard. He liked his solitude. He’d been content with his own company for years. Why did it bother him so much now to have no one around to listen, to offer a supportive comment or even a feisty retort?
When he’d reached his back deck, he glanced over at the small cottage next door.
“Blast it,” he muttered to himself and went back down the steps and across the small patch of grass separating the houses. He banged on the back door impatiently.
“What on earth?” Kiera demanded when she opened the door. “Is the world coming to an end?”
Bryan winced. If he’d come over to make peace, he’d gotten off to a shaky start.
“It’s hot out,” he said.
She stared at him unblinkingly, as if he’d announced the sky was blue. “So it is,” she said. “I’m told that’s not uncommon for July.”
“What I meant to say was that it’s too hot for you to be walking to work today,” he said. “I’ll be leaving in a half hour, if you’d like a lift.”
She hesitated for a split second, then nodded. “I’d be grateful. Thank you.”
Suddenly he didn’t know which was worse, the shouting that had become routine once again, or this infernal politeness. Did he want to set off an explosion by mentioning it, though? He opted instead, for a nod. “Okay, then. I’ll see you in a half hour.”
And in the meantime he was going to have a very long talk with himself about acting like an idiot. This morning had been a good reminder that women turned men into bumbling fools. It was probably far wiser to avoid going down that path again.
* * *
For a man who’d issued an invitation for her to ride to work with him, Bryan seemed to have used up all his words for the day. He hadn’t spoken since Kiera had climbed into his environmentally sensible Prius, grateful to have the air-conditioning blasting.
“I haven’t seen much of you recently,” she said to break the silence. At his disbelieving glance in her direction, she added, “I meant away from work.”
“I thought that was how you wanted it,” he said. “I’ve followed my usual routine, but you seem to have come up with a completely different schedule. You’re gone by the time I get back from my run.”
“I like to walk into town while it’s still cool. I enjoy getting together with some of the O’Brien women at Sally’s.”
“And the garden? I thought you enjoyed weeding.”
“I wasn’t sure you wanted me around,” she said. “I’ve done a little when I’ve gotten home. Luke’s let me off earlier in the evening recently, and it’s still light out.”
Bryan stopped at an intersection and gave her a long look. “Did he change your schedule to minimize the amount of time we’d have to start a ruckus at the pub?”
She gave him a rueful grin. “He never said such a thing, but I suspect so. I thought perhaps you’d asked him to set it up that way.”
“I’m not going to tell Luke how to run his business,” Bryan said. “The scheduling is up to him.”
“You know,” Kiera began, not entirely sure she ought to be opening up this particular can of worms. “When I agreed to do the cooking thing for the festival, I didn’t expect things between us to go back to the way they were at the beginning.”
“What did you expect?”
“That we’d have a friendly rivalry that would benefit Nell’s church and the town.”
“And?”
“There is no and,” she insisted, but she couldn’t quite meet his gaze.
Bryan turned his attention back to the road. Silence fell between them again. She sensed that somehow she’d disappointed him. Had he known she wasn’t being entirely honest?
“Okay, there was more to it,” she said eventually.
“Something that couldn’t have been resolved just by talking to me?”
“How, when you were the problem?”
She could tell her candor had startled him by the clenching of his jaw. He didn’t reply, his concentration focused on parallel parking in a tight space in the alley behind the pub.
When he’d turned off the engine, he faced her. “How was I the problem? I thought we’d made peace, that we were getting along, getting to know and respect each other.”
“We were.”
“And that was a bad thing?”
She nodded. “I realize it can’t possibly make much sense to you, but that scared me. I was growing comfortable talking to you, especially on those quiet nights on your deck. It reminded me of another time, another man.”
“Your ex-husband?”
She laughed bitterly at that. “Hardly. Sean wasn’t much for quiet conversation. No, it was Peter.”
“The man who died.”
“After Sean, I’d allowed no one to get close to me. I made it my mission to protect my heart from any more pain. It was easy enough to ignore the occasional drunken pass some man might make or to say no to the few who might have put my heart at risk.”
She allowed herself a smile. “Then there was Peter. He made no demands. He listened. He gave me reasons to laugh. It was insidious, if you know what I mean. The little exchanges that meant nothing in themselves, but added together to become trust and caring and, over time, love.”
There was sympathy in Bryan’s eyes. “And then he died.”
“And then he died,” she agreed simply. “He broke the trust, and my heart.”
“And you panicked because you felt it happening again,” Bryan said. “You were starting to trust me?”
“I know the signs now, you see. And I couldn’t allow it.”
“So you and I are going into this crazy cooking competition just to put some sort of an artificial barrier between us?”
She shrugged at how ridiculous it sounded. “So it seems.”
To her surprise, Bryan laughed. After a startled moment, she found herself laughing with him.
“It might have been easier just to slap me when I kissed you,” he told her. “That would have gotten your message across loud and clear.”
“If I’d been thinking at the time, that would have been a good solution,” she agreed. “But you caught me off guard.”
His gaze searched hers. “And you didn’t find it all that unpleasant, did you?”
“Do we really need to talk about that kiss?” she asked, flustered by his candor.
“I think we should,” he persisted.
“Why?”
“Because right this minute I am seriously considering doing it again.”