Driftwood Cottage

by Sherryl Woods

  Now the brothers were standing practically toe-to-toe. Kevin had an exasperated expression on his face. “Plastic’s great,” he told Connor. “It won’t stink, you’re right about that. But while most of the eggs have candy inside, which is no big loss, some of them have money.”

  Connor suddenly looked vaguely uneasy. “You mean like a quarter, right?”

  Kevin nodded. “Some of them. And some have dollar bills. Dad even tucked a five-dollar bill into a couple of them. Now maybe losing track of five bucks doesn’t mean much to a big-shot attorney, but to these kids it’s a big deal.” He tapped his clipboard. “That’s why I had Dad write down what he put in the eggs, so we could check ’em off at the end of the hunt. There are thirty with candy, twelve with quarters, five with a dollar and four with five dollars. I told him it was a bad idea hiding that much cash, but he insisted.”

  Connor looked encouraged. “The point is that you’ll know if any are missing.”

  “But not where they are, you moron.”

  Heather laughed, then tried to cover it when Connor scowled in her direction.

  “Okay, okay,” Connor said. “If any of the eggs with money don’t turn up, I’ll replace the cash.”

  “And give it to whom?” Kevin asked. “Dad? You certainly can’t randomly pick a kid and give it to him or her. We’ll have a rebellion.”

  Bree looked over at Heather and rolled her eyes. “Somebody needs to stop those two and tell them to get on with the hunt. The kids are getting restless.”

  “Don’t look at me,” Heather said. “They’re your brothers. I’m an innocent bystander.”

  Bree gave Heather a chiding look. “Then I suppose it’s up to me,” she grumbled. “Haul me out of this chair.”

  Heather helped her up, then watched as she inserted herself between her brothers. She reached for the whistle hanging around Kevin’s neck and blew it.

  “The hunt has officially begun,” she called out, even as Kevin and Connor regarded her with dismay.

  “Hey,” Kevin began. “I’m in charge of the Easter egg hunt.”

  “Then run it,” she said.

  Of course, the advice was a little late, because whooping kids were running in every direction, snatching up eggs and putting them into their baskets. Little Mick was crawling after them, but had absolutely zero chance of competing.

  “Connor!” Heather called and gestured toward their son. “How about some help?”

  Spotting the problem, he scooped up his son and took him directly to the flower beds along the path beside the house, where they immediately found several of the brightly colored plastic eggs.

  “Hey, no fair,” Caitlyn called out indignantly, her hands on her hips. “Uncle Connor knows where all the eggs are.”

  “Not all of them,” Kevin muttered.

  Abby came out of the house in time to hear the exchange. “Caitlyn, you just worry about finding your own eggs. We always helped you when you were your cousin’s age.”

  Caitlyn looked momentarily taken aback by the rebuke, then shrugged and ran off, yelling with glee when she found another egg just moments later.

  “Do Megan and Nell need any help in the kitchen?” Heather asked Abby.

  “Nope. They just kicked me out,” Abby said. “Gram has a system. She barely tolerates Mom being underfoot.”

  “I love your family,” Heather said, then immediately regretted it when both Abby and Bree regarded her with sympathy. She held up a hand. “Forget I said that. I’m sure you both know how lucky you are. That’s all I meant.”

  “No, it’s not,” Abby said, casting a disgusted look toward Connor. “If it weren’t so plain to me how much he loves you and the baby, I’d kick his butt for how he’s treating you. Even for an O’Brien, he’s taking stubbornness to new heights.”

  “We could gang up on him,” Bree suggested.

  “Absolutely not,” Heather said, horrified by the idea. “I may not agree with Connor’s views on marriage, but I can’t deny that he believes every word he utters on the subject. It’s pointless to try to change his mind. I’ve certainly given up.”

  “Well, that’s just sad,” Abby said.

  Connor, carrying an exhausted little Mick, overheard as he joined them on the porch and sat down next to Heather. “What’s sad?”

  “Never mind,” Heather said hastily.

  Abby immediately stood up and held out her hand to Bree. “We’re needed in the kitchen,” she said, despite having told Heather only moments ago that she’d been kicked out.

  Connor stared after his sisters in bemusement. “What’s up with them? Were they bugging you?”

  “Of course not. I like your sisters.”

  “So do I,” he said. “That doesn’t mean they can’t be exasperating. If they’re on your case or making you uncomfortable, I’ll put a stop to it.”

  “Leave it alone,” she said tersely.

  “But—”

  Determined not to go down that road, she glanced pointedly at little Mick who looked to be just seconds from nodding off. “So, how many eggs did you and Daddy find?” she asked.

  He grabbed a bright green one and held it up. “Egg,” he pronounced happily.

  “Does he know there might be candy inside?” she asked Connor.

  “No, thank goodness, and the others have been forbidden to eat any now. If these kids get any more wired, we’ll never get them settled down for dinner.”

  “How’s the hunt for those big-ticket eggs gone? Are all the dollar and five-dollar bills accounted for?”

  Connor grinned mischievously. “Of course.”

  “What do you mean, ‘of course’? Kevin was about to have a fit not a half hour ago.” Her eyes widened as understanding dawned. “You said you didn’t know where all the eggs were hidden just to tick him off, didn’t you? Did you make a map?”

  He pulled a detailed sketch from his back pocket. At her shake of her head, he said, “Hey, I had to have some fun, didn’t I? They wouldn’t let me hunt for eggs this year.”

  Heather laughed. “You’re terrible.”

  “That seems to be the consensus,” he agreed, then held her gaze. “You used to like the bad-boy side of me.”

  She still did, but she knew that admitting it would be a huge mistake. “No comment,” she said, instead.

  He grinned. “Sweet pea, don’t you know that an evasion is as good as an admission?”

  “Don’t apply your courtroom logic to me,” she retorted.

  “That’s not courtroom logic,” he scoffed. “That’s human nature. People who can’t bring themselves to utter a real lie, evade.” He gave her a thoughtful look. “I could prove it, you know.”

  “Prove what?”

  “That you still like the impetuous bad boy in me.”

  She frowned at the taunt. “I don’t think so,” she said, not about to get drawn into whatever scheme he had in mind.

  But before she knew what he intended, he was out of his chair and leaning over her. One arm cradled their son, but the other was braced on the arm of her chair. He hesitated just long enough for her pulse to scramble, then sealed his mouth over hers.

  Heather willed herself to sit perfectly still, to not respond in any way to the kiss. Connor, though, was cleverly patient. He lingered. He coaxed. Eventually her willpower was no match for his ingenuity or the power his lips had over her. She felt herself responding.

  The kiss seemed to go on for an eternity…and not nearly long enough. It reminded her of all there was between them, and all there wasn’t.

  Eventually, he backed away, his eyes twinkling wickedly. “I rest my case.”

  When she could catch her breath and keep her voice steady, she said, “You do realize you’ve just stirred up a hornet’s nest, right?”

  He regarded her blankly.

  She nodded toward their suddenly silent audience— Mick, who’d just stepped outside to call everyone to dinner, Kevin, Trace, Jake and all the kids returning to the porch to count their eggs in h
opes of winning the big prize of the day, a gift card for the toy store. They were all standing there staring in openmouthed astonishment.

  “Well now,” Mick said, beaming. “Nice to see you’ve come to your senses, son.”

  Connor frowned at his father. “It was a kiss, Dad. Don’t make too much out of it.”

  “Doesn’t matter what I make out of it,” Mick said. “It’s what Heather believes. What’s she to think about a man who makes his intentions quite clear on the one hand, then goes around stealing kisses on the other?”

  “Heather knows exactly what’s going on,” Connor said, though he regarded her uncertainly. “Right?”

  Though a part of her ached to believe something had changed, she knew better. “Everything is crystal clear,” she said tightly.

  Mick regarded her with a look that was entirely too sympathetic. It made her want to cry. To avoid making an idiot of herself, she stood, took her son from Connor and headed inside.

  “I need to put him down for his nap,” she said, though she doubted anyone entirely bought the excuse, no matter how true it might be. Everyone there knew she was running away from Connor and the feelings that simply wouldn’t go away.

  8

  Megan regarded Nell with concern. Her mother-in-law had been on her feet in the kitchen for hours following the Easter Mass and, though she showed no signs of slowing down, there was an unmistakable hint of exhaustion in her eyes, and her skin was paler than usual. It struck Megan that they all needed to be more considerate of Nell’s age, though Nell herself would be appalled by the idea.

  “Nell, sit down with me and have a cup of tea,” Megan insisted, already heating the water. “I’ve been on my feet too long, and so have you. We deserve a break before the real madhouse begins. If this family gets much bigger, we’ll need to hire a caterer and rent a hall to handle these holiday events.”

  “Come now. You know I wouldn’t have this any other way,” Nell said. “And this is no time for a break. We need to get this meal on the table.” Despite the protest, she did sink down gratefully onto a chair at the kitchen table. She closed her eyes for a moment, then conceded, “This does feel good.”

  “And we’re not going to feel guilty about this for a single second,” Megan told her. “The kids are perfectly happy hunting for the last of the Easter eggs. None of the rest of us are going to starve if you and I relax for a couple of minutes.”

  Nell accepted the cup of tea Megan had prepared, then sighed. “I hate to admit it,” she said eventually, “but you are right about one thing. This may be getting to be too much for me.”

  The admission itself was less of a surprise than the fact that Nell had made it. Megan had never heard her mother-in-law acknowledge that she was getting older. It also wasn’t like Nell not to criticize the shortcut Megan had taken with the tea, using teabags rather than the loose tea Nell preferred. She was clearly not herself, which worried Megan more than ever.

  “Well, it’ll be a while before we have this kind of family holiday celebration again,” Megan told her, choosing her words carefully. “Not that Sunday dinners are any less chaotic. How would you feel about cutting back on those, maybe only having them once a month?”

  “Heavens, no!” Nell said at once, looking dismayed. “That’s not a tradition I intend to break. I like having everyone around this table. And I think it keeps the younger ones grounded, reminds them that family’s important.”

  “Okay,” Megan said, backing off at once. Truthfully, she agreed—she just didn’t like seeing Nell looking so worn out. She phrased her next suggestion even more cautiously. “But why don’t we put our heads together before the next one and come up with a new approach, something that’s less demanding of you?”

  Nell looked skeptical. “Such as? Don’t tell me you want to split the family up and let everyone do their own thing? Didn’t I just say no to that?”

  “Actually, I was thinking that we’d host the meals here, as usual. You could prepare one of the family’s favorites, like your pot roast or corned beef and cabbage, and then everyone else could bring a dish.”

  Nell looked horrified. “Pot luck suppers are for church, not family gatherings.”

  Megan persisted, despite Nell’s strenuous objections. “You said yourself not long ago that everyone needs to start learning how to make your specialties. Don’t you think this would be the ideal way to teach them? Give each one of the grandchildren a recipe, then spend some time teaching them how to make it. They should be involved in the preparations for these family occasions.”

  After her initial negativity, Nell looked faintly intrigued. “That would give me a chance to see a bit more of these busy young women,” she conceded, her expression thoughtful. “I can’t tell you the last time I had a few minutes alone with Abby, now that she’s always running off to that office of hers in Baltimore. And Jess may be right up the street, but the inn takes most of her time. As for Bree, she has her theater and her flower shop now and a baby on the way. Her time will soon be at a premium. It would be nice if I could be sure of carving out a bit of alone time with each of them.”

  “Exactly,” Megan said, sensing triumph. “And I’ll handle getting the house ready for all the company, since we’re agreed I’m hopeless in the kitchen.”

  “We’ve agreed to no such thing. You are not hopeless,” Nell chided. “In fact, next Sunday I’m going to devote myself to teaching you to make my pot roast. That was always Mick’s favorite. Thomas’s, too. Jeff, he prefers my roasted chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy. I’ll show his wife the secret to getting the gravy just right.”

  “Then you like the idea of passing on your recipes to the next generation?” Megan asked.

  “I do, as long as no one starts thinking I’m getting old and frail and starts treating me as if I’m on my last legs,” Nell said with renewed spirit.

  Megan grinned at her. “No one would dare. You’ve plenty of life left in you, Nell. We’re all in awe of you.”

  “Then I suppose I can’t let you down,” Nell said, standing. “Let’s get this food on the table. I think I’ve worked up an appetite. That’s a rarity these days.”

  Megan noted that her color had returned and her eyes were bright once more. She’d have to remind all the others—very discreetly, of course—that Nell wasn’t invincible. They needed to look for subtle ways to take over for her without making her feel for one single second that she was no longer needed. Because the truth was, Nell had always been the glue that held the O’Briens together.

  As everyone was coming inside for Easter dinner, Heather sought out Megan.

  “I hate to make a big deal out of this, but please do not make me sit beside Connor,” she pleaded.

  Megan regarded her first with surprise, then understanding. “No problem. You’ll sit at the other end of the table by me,” she said at once, then added wryly, “That’ll guarantee Connor doesn’t join you.” Megan gestured to a chair between hers and Nell’s. “Here you go,” she said.

  When Connor came inside and spotted Heather at the far end of the table, he frowned, but he made no attempt to join her. He took a seat between his cousin Susie and her brother Matt.

  Once grace had been said and the food passed around the table, Megan set down her fork and regarded Heather closely. “Did something happen earlier? Did you and Connor have an argument?”

  Heather shook her head.

  “Whatever it is, you can talk to me about it,” Megan reminded her. “I’m Connor’s mother, but I’d like to think that you and I are becoming friends.”

  “Not here and definitely not now,” Heather said, forcing a bright smile. She deliberately turned to Connor’s grandmother. “The ham is absolutely delicious,” she told her.

  Nell patted her hand. “Thank you, my dear. Connor’s always loved my baked ham. Would you like me to teach you how to make it?”

  Heather knew what she was doing, making an assumption that Heather would someday need to know how to please Conn
or with his favorite meals, but she couldn’t resist nodding. “I’d love it.” On the rare occasions when she’d had a chance to be alone with Nell, she’d found her counsel wise and her warm demeanor comforting.

  “Then we’ll set a date and I’ll show you,” Nell said, then clasped Heather’s hand. “It’s all going to work out, you know. My grandson may be foolish, but he has a good heart and it’s filled with love for you.”

  “I know he has a good heart,” Heather agreed, ignoring the claim that Connor loved her. “But I’m not sure he knows it. I’m convinced he believes he hasn’t any heart at all, that no one does.”

  “Then you’ll prove to him how wrong he is, won’t you?” Gram said.

  Heather was pleased by Nell’s faith in her abilities, but she didn’t share it. “I’ve tried.”

  “Then try harder. That boy the two of you share deserves no less.”

  “Yes,” Heather said softly, stealing a quick glance down the length of the table toward Connor. “Yes, he does.”

  But it seemed increasingly unlikely that she could find any way at all to ensure that little Mick got the family he should have.

  Connor wasn’t sure how he choked down his holiday meal. He knew that once again he’d managed to upset Heather, but he wasn’t entirely sure whether it was the kiss that had infuriated her, her own reaction to it or the fact that they’d had an audience. He’d just been trying to prove a point, and, in fact, he’d succeeded, but the momentary glow of triumph had faded when he’d walked into the dining room and seen her settling at the table between his mother and grandmother. He recognized a deliberate snub when he saw one.

  As soon as the meal ended, there was chaos as some family members left, some retreated outside for a game of tag football and several got started on clean-up duty. Connor assumed Heather was hiding out in the kitchen, but when he checked, he found only his sisters Jess and Abby and his cousin Susie.

  “Have you guys seen Heather?” he asked.