Chapter 21
Kiera knew she was behaving like something of a lunatic as she tore through the grocery store dismissing half of what she found. Moira trailed along behind her with the cart, Kate sitting in the child’s seat pointing out everything she recognized on the shelves and crying when it wasn’t added to the cart.
“Not today, baby girl,” Moira soothed. “We’re helping your grandmother shop today.”
“Get her the cereal. It’s her favorite,” Kiera encouraged. “Perhaps that will make her happy, so I can actually think.”
“Would it be easier if we waited in the car?” Moira inquired testily.
Kiera winced. “No. I want you with me. I really do. I’m just nervous. I want to get this exactly right.”
“To show up Bryan?”
“No, just to prove I know what I’m talking about and can be taken seriously. Otherwise, what use am I?”
“Mum, Bryan takes you seriously. So does everyone else at the pub. You’ve been a huge help with everything Luke’s asked of you. If you’d stop being so stubborn about going back to Ireland, where there’s nothing waiting for you, you could have a permanent job and a good life right here.”
“I appreciate that you want me to stay out of family loyalty, but this is the big test, isn’t it? My make-or-break moment?”
Moira frowned. “Why on earth do you see it that way? There’s nothing make-or-break about it.”
“Of course there is. If I fail, what sort of consultant can I possibly be?”
Moira left the cart to give her mother an impulsive hug. Kate joined in by lifting her arms toward her grandmother. “Up!” she commanded. “Gamma, up!”
Smiling at last, Kiera picked her up. “Okay, my little cheerleader. I can do this.”
“And you might want to start reminding yourself that your presence here is valued because we love you,” Moira said.
Kiera nearly burst into tears at that, but kept her head turned away from her daughter and returned her focus to her shopping until she was back in control.
She calmed a bit as she found chicken stock. “Prepackaged,” she said with a derisive sniff. “But there’s no time to make it from scratch.”
She dismissed the lamb as looking too tough, even though meat cooked in a stew could often be a lesser cut. “Do you suppose the butcher will have any better?” she asked Moira.
“I’m sure he will. He supplies the pub with its meat.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so? I wouldn’t have been wasting my time in here. We’ll see the butcher and then go to the farmers market.”
“It’s the end of the season and the middle of the week. The selection may not be ideal there, either,” Moira warned.
“It will be better than anything here,” Kiera insisted. “And surely it will be organic.”
“Since when has organic mattered to you?” Moira asked, but there was a twinkle in her eyes that suggested she knew the answer and found it telling.
“It matters to Bryan. He takes pride in his garden being organic.” Even as she spoke, she saw Moira trying to hide a smile. “Don’t even go there. I’m not cooking this for Bryan. He won’t even be there tonight.”
“Not a word,” her daughter promised, leading the way back to the car.
An hour later they had both beef and lamb from the butcher that satisfied Kiera’s critical eye. The carrots, onions and thyme were fresh and organically grown.
“We need some pearl barley,” she announced, checking her list. “Where can we find that?”
“There’s a gourmet store that might have it. Let’s check there,” Moira suggested. “They have artisan bread to go with the stew. Perhaps a few bottles of wine, as well. And they have a few prepared salads we can grab for our lunch.”
Panic struck. “Lunch? Is it that time already? I need to start cooking. Everyone’s coming by at six.”
“I’ll have you home in plenty of time,” Moira soothed. “And we can eat a little something while the stew is simmering. You might consider a glass of wine, as well.”
Kiera’s nerves once again steadied. “Thank you, but wine at this hour will only make me sleepy. I need all my wits if this stew is to be any good at all.”
“Mum, you’ve no need to thank me.”
“Perhaps not, but you’ve calmed me down and you suggested the bread and wine. It never crossed my mind to plan something to serve with the stew. What about dessert? Should we get something from a bakery?”
“I’ve already told Bree to ask her sister Jess if the chef at the Inn at Eagle Point will send over something with her. She’s known for her decadent desserts. It’s going to be fine. This is just a chance for you to practice and for family to sample your stew. It’s not a dinner party meant to impress anyone.”
In her head, when she was thinking even a tiny bit rationally, Kiera knew that. Still, it felt like a test, and one she was terrified of failing. In some ways cooking for Nell and the rest of the O’Briens mattered even more than the outcome of the contest at the fall festival. Because of Luke, this was her daughter’s family now, one that had made her feel welcome, as well. She wanted more than that, though. She wanted to belong, to entertain them as an equal, something she couldn’t recall ever wanting quite so badly.
* * *
“It smells absolutely heavenly in here,” Bree declared when she walked into the cottage just before six. She was the first to arrive, and after giving Kiera a quick hug, she headed directly toward the pot simmering on the stove. Lifting the lid, she breathed in deeply. “If this tastes half as good as it smells, you’ll win this contest hands down.”
The praise was reassuring, but the real test would come later, when the meal was served. Kiera had tasted the stew at least a dozen times and thought it as good as any she’d ever made, but was it good enough? She had no idea.
Bree turned and studied her. “Panicked?”
Kiera nodded. “Ridiculous, isn’t it?”
“You should see me on opening night when my play’s being performed before a live audience,” Bree said. “No matter how it’s gone in rehearsal, no matter how confident I am that the laughs will fall in all the right places, I pace around backstage trying very hard not to run to the restroom and throw up. I’m told nerves are part of the process.”
Kiera found Bree’s words to be soothing, but it was the glass of wine she placed in Kiera’s hand that had the real calming effect.
“Remember, you’re among friends and family tonight,” Bree said.
“Which means you’re all likely to be supportive,” Kiera said. “Telling me the stew is good when it’s awful won’t be doing me any kindness.”
Bree laughed. “O’Briens can be blunt when it’s called for. Not a one of us is known for censoring our words. We expect each other to be tough enough to handle the truth, even when it hurts.”
“And that’s exactly what I need,” Kiera told her. “The truth.”
As the women poured into the cottage’s close quarters, the cozy rooms filled with laughter. The wine calmed the last of Kiera’s jittery nerves, and she found herself able to enjoy the company. She checked her dining room table to be sure she’d put out enough bowls for the stew, enough spoons, most of them borrowed from the pub for the evening.
Satisfied, she went into the kitchen, put the stew into a couple of big tureens and carried those to the table, then added plates of warm bread and the Irish butter she’d discovered to her delight at the specialty market.
“I think we’re ready,” she announced. “I’d love to seat everyone around a big table, but we’ll have to eat wherever we can find a spot to sit.”
“It’s the company and food that matters, not the seating,” Nell soothed. “I’m taking mine outside, so I can enjoy the delightful breeze off the water.”
“I’ll join you, Gram,” Bree said, following her outside.
As Kiera nervously watched, she noticed that they all migrated outside, happy to be together, happy to have a beloved view of the bay.
“Mum, everyone’s having a wonderful time. You can relax now. Get your own bowl of stew and come join us,” Moira said.
“Yes,” Megan said. “It’s time for you to sit and bask in the rave reviews I’m already hearing, Kiera.”
“I’m not sure I can,” Kiera admitted. “Besides, I’ve eaten enough stew today while I was cooking it. I don’t think I could eat another bite.”
“Then just bring your wine,” Moira said, pushing her toward the door.
She hesitated in the doorway, but her daughter gave her another gentle shove.
Immediately Heather spotted her. “I want this recipe,” she called out to Kiera.
“So do I,” Nell said.
Kiera’s eyes widened at Nell’s comment. “You do?”
“Your father’s been telling me mine is missing something, and I’ve had no idea what it could be until I tasted yours. I can’t put my finger on it, but I’ll know when I see what spices you’ve used.”
“But Bryan’s using your recipe,” Kiera said.
Bree chuckled at her reaction. “Which means you’ve got a lock on winning this contest, Kiera! I’m sure of it.”
“And you’re not just saying that?” she asked worriedly. “You’re not just trying to settle my nerves so I show up for the contest?”
Bree’s expression sobered at once. “Remember what I told you earlier. We always tell the truth.”
“Always,” a few more echoed.
“Well, I can remember one time—” Shanna began, only to be shushed by the others.
“Not helping,” Bree told her firmly.
Shanna laughed. “I’m just saying we’re all capable of a little white lie from time to time.”
“But not tonight,” Bree countered emphatically.
“Not tonight,” Shanna agreed.
Kiera sat back at last, more relieved than she could ever recall being before. Win or lose, she was confident she wasn’t going to make a complete fool of herself in front of Bryan or this family.
After that the attention turned to the huge tray of red velvet cupcakes Jess had brought from the inn. It was the perfect way to cap off a night that had made Kiera feel as if she did, indeed, belong.
* * *
“Quite a crowd at your place last night,” Bryan noted when Kiera got into the car in the morning for the drive to the pub.
“Just a girls’ night,” she said, unwilling to tell him that it had been a dress rehearsal for her Irish stew, one that had gone surprisingly well. She was still a little stunned by just how well it had gone, in terms of the food and the camaraderie. “We had dinner and dessert.”
“And wine?” Bryan asked, sounding amused.
“We had a few glasses,” she admitted. “Why did you make such a point of that?”
“Because of the serenading that went on when I got home. Not a one of you can carry a tune, by the way.”
Kiera stared at him. “We sang?”
“Oh, yes.”
“But I can’t sing.”
He laughed. “I can attest to that. But you were all very enthusiastic. It was the best homecoming I’ve had in a while. You don’t remember any of this?”
“I remember somebody suggesting we sing a few Irish songs, but things are a little fuzzy beyond that. I’m sorry if we kept you awake.”
“Don’t be. I got my own glass of wine, sat on my deck and enjoyed the show. Just know that I won’t be recommending that Luke bring you all in to entertain at the pub.”
Kiera groaned. “I should hope not. In fact, I’d prefer it if you never mentioned this to another soul. My very first girls’ night and it got completely out of control.”
Bryan gave her a startled look. “Your first girls’ night?”
Kiera nodded. “Unless you count a couple of sleepovers when I was very young.”
“But surely you had a lot of women friends back home. Didn’t you ever get together and kick up your heels?”
“I had three small children at home and a job that lasted practically from dawn to dusk. There was neither time nor money for going out with the girls.”
She would have added that there’d been little time for friendships of any kind, but that made her sound far too pitiful.
She never wanted Bryan to think of her as deserving pity. That also meant she could never fully explain to him or anyone else just how much last night had meant to her. She had, however, given every woman there a fierce hug when they’d left, hoping that would be enough to let them know how much their kindness meant to her.
When Bryan had parked at the pub, she checked her watch and saw that it was still early enough that some of the women were likely to be at Sally’s.
“Thanks for the lift,” she told him. “I have somewhere I need to be.”
Bryan gave her a long look, then nodded. To her surprise, it was understanding she thought she read in his eyes.
“Have fun with the girls,” he called after her, proving that he knew exactly where she was going and why.
* * *
Just inside the door at Sally’s, Kiera noted that there were still three women at what had come to be known as the O’Brien table. She walked over to Sally and told her she wanted to pick up the check for everyone there and ordered her own coffee and croissant while she was at it. Once she’d paid, she joined them in the back.
“Thank you all so much for coming last night,” she said when she was seated.
“We were just talking about how much fun it was,” Megan told her. “We’ve enjoyed these morning get-togethers for years, but then we all rush off to work. Family dinners on Sundays are great, but there are children running all over and the men are there. We never get to let our hair down the way we did last night. It was really special, Kiera, and we’ve vowed to find other occasions to do the same thing.”
“I’m afraid we might have let our hair down a little too far,” Kiera said. “Bryan caught the whole performance.”
The other women exchanged amused looks. “It was time he saw this side of you,” Megan said. “Sometimes things get so serious between a man and a woman, they lose sight of the fun that can be had. It happened to Mick and me. There were so many crises and issues and fights when we were married the first time that we forgot how much we enjoyed each other’s company and the way we’d always laughed when we were together. Laughter’s as important in a relationship as anything else. It gets you through the tough times.”
To Kiera’s amusement, that set off a lively debate over the importance of laughter versus hot sex that left Megan blushing.
“Too much information,” she finally told the others. “Especially for a mother to hear from her daughters.”
“Amen,” Kiera said with a pointed look at Moira, who’d just joined them and added quite a bit more than her two cents to the debate.
“This has been fun, as always,” Megan said. “But I have a gallery to run. Moira, you’ll be by later to discuss the upcoming shows I have in mind?”
“I will,” Moira agreed.
Megan gave her a curious look. “And you won’t be balking before I even open my mouth?”
Moira laughed. “I think you might find me surprisingly agreeable.”
“Then please do hurry, then,” Megan said.
The women dispersed and Moira walked with Kiera back to the pub.
“You really like them, don’t you?” Moira asked.
Kiera nodded, feeling the surprising sting of tears in her eyes at the thought of leaving them, of leaving this whole town and Bryan behind.
“Don’t go, Mum. You don’t have to,” Moira said.
“It’s what we planned from the beginning,” Kiera said stoically.
“Plans are meant to be changed. Please stay.”
But in all of Kiera’s struggles, the only thing that had kept her going was having a plan and sticking to it. Straying from that slim grasp on control invited chaos, and she’d had more than enough of that to last a lifetime.
* * *
Bryan had a peaceful morning in the kitchen with no one underfoot, but it had left him oddly disgruntled. Apparently he’d grown used to having Kiera bustling around with her comments and unsolicited advice.
Still, he was not expecting to have the peace shattered by Moira tearing through the door in a full-blown mood with him as her target.
“Bryan Laramie, I have no idea what goes on in that head of yours, but you’re impressing me lately as a full-blown idiot.”
Though he’d grown accustomed to her temper long ago and knew that it usually burned itself out if he simply remained silent, today he wasn’t in the mood for it himself.
“What a friendly greeting,” he noted in a voice thick with sarcasm. “What set you off today?”
“I’ve just had a talk with my mother.”
Bryan frowned at that. “And what has she been telling you? The last time I saw her, she was in a perfectly pleasant frame of mind and on her way to join her friends at Sally’s.”
“Well, she wasn’t in a pleasant frame of mind just now. She was crying.”
Alarm spread through Bryan at once. What on earth might have happened in the past hour? “Where is she? I’ll talk to her.”
“No you won’t. You’ll only blunder and make it all worse.”
He fought to keep a tight grip on his patience. “Then what is it you want from me?”
“I want you to make her stay in Chesapeake Shores. You’re the only one she’ll listen to.”
“Moira, you’re her daughter, the mother of her only grandchild. If you can’t talk her into staying, what can I do?”
“The mere fact that you have to ask that just proves what an idiot you are. She cares about you. She won’t stay unless you ask. But you can’t just ask as if she were a friend you’d miss and think of from time to time. Her staying has to be what you really want.”
He sorted through the confusing declaration and thought he saw what she was really saying. “Are you suggesting I propose?” Even as he said the words, his heartbeat escalated straight toward panic.
“Well, why not?” Moira demanded, as if a man asking a woman to marry him were a simple matter. “It’s not as if you’re still married as you once thought you might be. You’re as crazy in love with her as she is with you. If any two people belong together, it’s the two of you. Do not be an idiot by letting her leave.”
Love? The word hung in the air. It had been so long since Bryan had even thought in those terms, it was shocking to hear it in connection with Kiera. He couldn’t deny, though, that the prospect of her going back to Dublin left him feeling empty inside. She’d slipped into his life and filled some need he hadn’t even recognized.
Marriage, though? He’d tried it and been an abysmal failure. Was he any wiser now? Or did he even need to be? Kiera, unlike Melody, was more than capable of telling him what she needed and demanding that she get it. There would be no crossed signals and hurt feelings. With a fiery temperament much like her daughter’s, she’d provide a road map. He’d witnessed firsthand how that worked for Luke and Moira.
But what if he pursued the idea that had been nagging at him lately, the possibility that it might not be too late for him to pursue his dream to have a restaurant of his own? Had he learned the lessons well enough from his marriage, or would he revert to old patterns? There was Deanna to consider, too. All were things he needed to take into account before he asked Kiera to marry him.
“Well?” Moira demanded. “Have I gotten through that thick skull of yours?”
Bryan smiled at her. “You’ll have to wait and see. And you might want to consider the fact that your mother and I have never even been on what could be considered a date. Marriage would be a giant leap.”
“Stop making excuses because you’re scared. Sitting around and talking till all hours or spending hours in here cooking together might not be formal dates, but you’ve gotten to know each other as few couples have.”
“Point taken.”
“So you’ll talk to her about a future?”
“Whatever I decide will be discussed with your mother, not you.”
“Well, that hardly seems fair,” Moira grumbled, then gave him a hard look. “Just don’t disappoint me.”
“Moira, I adore you, but your disappointment is not at the top of my concerns when it comes to this.”
She looked momentarily startled, but then smiled. “No, and if I’m being rational, which I seldom am, I suppose it shouldn’t be.”
Once she’d left the kitchen, Bryan tried to resume cooking, but his concentration was shot. Fortunately, today’s specials were things he could almost make with his eyes closed. The customers wouldn’t suffer because of his distraction, but it was going to be a very long day, and he honestly had no idea how it might end.