Lilac Lane

by Sherryl Woods

  “She had a plan for her life and I’m interfering in that. What if this move is all wrong for her and she comes to resent me for it?”

  “Did you beg her to move closer? Did you say a single word about this transfer?”

  “Of course not. I had no idea it was even an option.”

  “Well, then, it seems to me to be a decision she reached all on her own, or perhaps with a little help from the man who’s been guiding her for most of her life. If they think this transfer makes sense, why would you argue?”

  “I don’t want to be responsible for throwing her life off track.”

  “Perhaps you’re only helping her to put it onto a newer, better track. She’d been intending to be a doctor when you first met her. She’s still intending to be one, as far as I can tell. And isn’t this Johns Hopkins one of the best places for training?”

  “That’s what I hear,” he admitted.

  “Then is it some other reason that has you skittish? Have you discovered that being a father holds no appeal, after all?”

  He regarded her with a shocked expression. “Never!”

  “Well, then, if you want my opinion, this is all good. And just for the record, Deanna seems to be a very grounded young woman who takes her goals seriously. I doubt she came to this decision without careful thought. You should be rejoicing that she wants to get to know you better, instead of keeping you on the periphery of her life like some stranger. When she first walked into O’Brien’s, that’s exactly what she intended, I think.”

  “Am I overthinking it?”

  She smiled. “Yes.”

  “Speaking of grounded, you’re pretty amazing yourself. I hope you know exactly how much I value your opinion. One of these days I’d like to hear your thoughts about something else I’ve been considering.”

  Lovely, Kiera thought. And wasn’t it every woman’s dream to have a man value her for her opinions, just when she’d started to think he might value her in so many other ways?

  *

  Moira hung up the phone after talking to her mother on Monday night and turned to Luke.

  “I hope to heaven Nell knows what she’s doing with this whole cooking competition. My mother is a wreck. I’m to pick her up first thing in the morning, take her to the grocery, then on to a butcher shop if she doesn’t like the meat she finds at the grocery, then to a farmers market for vegetables and herbs. When I suggested she just pick a few things from Bryan’s garden, she practically bit my head off.”

  Luke laughed. “Though he won’t let anyone see it, Bryan’s a bundle of nerves, too. He stands over his stew pot talking to himself, tasting, then muttering. I believe at least three perfectly edible pots of stew have been taken to the homeless shelter today alone to save them from being dumped into the garbage. He may not think they’re perfect, but he can’t bring himself to waste food when he knows there are so many who’d be grateful for a good meal.”

  “I don’t see how this is bringing them one bit closer,” Moira said.

  “While the matchmaking gene pretty much bypassed me, I think it’s only one piece of a very complicated puzzle,” Luke responded. “In an ironic way, they’ve bonded over their common misery. To be honest, it seems to me they would have found each other on their own, but this might be nudging things along a little faster.”

  “I suppose,” Moira said skeptically. “And time is of the essence since my mother is supposed to leave in just over a month. She won’t even be here for Halloween or Thanksgiving or Christmas.” Feeling surprisingly weepy, she added, “She won’t even see Kate’s excitement on Christmas morning. Doesn’t every grandmother want to witness an occasion like that?”

  “And I imagine Kiera is no exception,” Luke said. “We could talk to Connor about getting an extension on her visa.”

  “She has to say she wants that,” Moira said in frustration. “And I think her pride will keep her from asking, especially if Bryan’s not the one pushing for her to stay.”

  “You know your mother better than I do, but would it hurt to just talk to Connor and find out if an extension is even feasible? Then we’d know whether to encourage her if she even hints at wanting to stay.”

  Moira’s expression brightened. “That makes sense. Can you do that tomorrow, since I’m apparently going to be running hither and yon while she freaks out over the perfect ingredients?”

  “Done,” Luke assured her. “Now come here. I’ve been feeling neglected since we’ve had very little of that free time you promised when you invited your mother to come to Chesapeake Shores.”

  She laughed at him but immediately settled in his arms. “Are you perhaps thinking we could give her yet another reason to want to stay on?”

  “I’m not sure I’m willing to ask her to stay so we can have more sex,” Luke teased.

  Moira nudged him. “That is not what I was thinking. Well, not precisely, anyway.”

  “Then what?”

  “Another grandbaby might be the perfect lure.”

  Luke’s startled gaze met hers. His lips curved. “Seriously? You’re ready for another one?”

  “Or two,” she said. “Perhaps more.”

  “But only to keep your mother around?” he asked as if to clarify. His gaze narrowed. “Or is this part of a plot to keep Megan from sending you off around the country for these shows of yours? You seem less and less inclined to go just when you should be feeling ecstatic at being in demand.”

  “What lovely reasons for adding to our family,” she responded tartly. “I had no idea you were quite so cynical.”

  “Realistic,” Luke corrected. “There’s usually something behind any decision you reach. I’m just trying to understand this one.” He studied her intently. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

  She chuckled. “Yes, my darling husband. Your intuition is rock solid.”

  “Moira, be serious for at least half a second here. Don’t you want the career Megan’s offering you?”

  She hesitated. “I do and I don’t.”

  “Which means?”

  “After a successful show like the one in San Francisco, my head spins at the joy of knowing my photographs make people happy. Plus, I have to admit, it’s pretty heady being the center of all that attention. Then as soon as I’m away from that atmosphere, I panic that it was all a fluke and the next show will be a disaster, that perhaps I should stop while I’m on top.”

  Luke smiled. “You’ve barely reached the pinnacle and you’re already afraid of tumbling down?”

  She nodded. “I’ve not had much experience with success.”

  “Then shouldn’t you treasure every minute of it and trust that Megan will guide you not only to more success, but will tell you the truth about when it’s time to stop? Do you not trust her judgment?”

  She let Luke’s words sink in, desperately wanting to see things his way, to believe in herself as he and Megan so obviously did. “You think I need to make the commitment and go for it.”

  “I do. You deserve every second of that joy you experienced in San Francisco and in New York before that.”

  “And we can balance it with our family? I never want that to take second place.”

  “We can make it work. I promise.”

  “Even with another baby. I do want that, Luke.”

  “With another half-dozen babies, if you’re willing,” he vowed.

  Moira grinned. “Then I suppose we should get busy with that and tomorrow I’ll tell Megan I’m ready to seize the opportunities she finds for me.”

  “You could call and tell her now before you change your mind,” he suggested.

  “Right now I’m thinking only about the joy of making those babies, but if that doesn’t interest you…”

  “Oh, it interests me,” he said, drawing her closer still. “Let’s give it a try.” He sealed his words with a kiss that stole her breath away just as he always did.

  Chapter 21

  Kiera knew she was behaving like something of a lunatic as she tore throug
h 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 co
me 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.