Driftwood Cottage (2 page)

Connor stood in the middle of his townhouse in Baltimore and wondered why it no longer felt like home. The furniture he and Heather had chosen was still in place. She’d taken nothing when she left, and yet without her the place felt empty. The kitchen cupboards were filled with dishes, the refrigerator stocked with food, albeit mostly of the frozen variety. In fact, despite her departure several months ago, Heather’s touch was everywhere, right down to the framed photos of his son scattered over just about every surface.

Heather’s glowing face beamed back at him from many of them, as well. It always made his heart catch when he caught an unexpected glimpse of her. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever known, inside and out. Most people saw the shining blond hair, hazel eyes and delicate features and focused on those, but he knew she had the most generous heart on earth. She’d put up with him long enough to prove she was a saint.

And then she’d gone. Just like that, on Thanksgiving Day while he’d been out nursing his wounds over a glass of Irish whisky with a couple of buddies, decrying his parents’ plan to remarry, Heather had packed up their son and left. To add to his dismay, she’d dropped the baby off
on his parents’ doorstep, dragging both Mick and Megan into the middle of the drama. Connor wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to forgive her for that.

Disgruntled just by the thought of the humiliation he’d felt having to go home to Chesapeake Shores and explain himself to the mother from whom he’d been estranged for years, he poured himself another glass of Irish whisky. He went into his office hoping to push all of his sour thoughts out of his head and get some work done. Before he could cross the room, though, the doorbell rang. He opened it to find his brother Kevin standing there.

“This is an unexpected surprise,” Connor said, regarding Kevin warily. His brother wasn’t in the habit of dropping in. The last time he had, he’d found a very pregnant Heather on the scene and nearly been struck dumb by the awkward moment. He’d mostly stayed away since.

“You feel like some company?” Kevin inquired, moving aside to reveal two of their oldest friends, Will and Mack, along with Connor’s brothers-in-law, Trace Riley and Jake Collins.

Connor scowled, his worst fears confirmed. They were here on some kind of mission. It was anyone’s guess who’d put them up to it. His money was on his father.

“And if I don’t?” he asked.

“Hey, Baltimore’s a big city. I’m sure we can find someplace else to hang out,” Jake said. “I’m not wasting this chance for a guys’ night. The only reason your sister let me out of our regular date night is because Kevin told her we were coming to see you.”

Connor stared at Jake incredulously. “You let Bree tell you what you can and can’t do? Come on, man, that’s just
pitiful.” It reaffirmed his low opinion of marriage as well, even if they were talking about his sister.

Jake grinned. “I let her think that’s how it works,” he corrected. “And, to be perfectly honest, this date night idea of hers has some amazing benefits, or at least it did until she got so pregnant she can barely move. She blames the huge belly, the baby’s constant kicking and the swollen ankles all on me. These days I can pretty much forget about sex.”

Connor clapped his hands over his ears. “Too much information,” he protested. He turned to Trace. “And Abby? Does she have to give you permission to go out with the guys?”

“No way,” Trace said forcefully. “However, it helps that she’s staying in Baltimore tonight herself because of work, so the subject didn’t really come up.”

“What did you do with the twins?” Connor asked, referring to Abby’s very precocious daughters who were now nine-going-on-nineteen. “They’re a little young to be left on their own.”

“They’re staying with Grandma Megan and Grandpa Mick,” Trace said. “The only drawback is that tomorrow I will once again have to explain that ice cream and candy are not the two most important food groups. I’ll have to try to convince them of that before Mommy gets home.”

“You two do have your trials, don’t you?” Connor said to his brothers-in-law with amusement. “You’re not exactly walking endorsements for marriage.”

Trace and Jake exchanged a worried look that said it all. Obviously at least some part of their mission was to
convince him what a mess he was making of things with Heather.

Still, since the men were on his doorstep and he was in desperate need of company, Connor stepped aside to let them enter. “I don’t suppose any of you thought to bring food, did you? I have a freezer full of frozen dinners, but that’s about it.”

“Mack has the closest pizza place on speed dial,” Kevin assured him. “His cell phone allows him to find that in any city in the country. He may be lonely, but he’ll never starve.”

“I’m not all that lonely,” Mack retorted.

“Even though he still claims he’s not dating your cousin Susie, they seem to spend every spare minute together,” Will taunted. “I’m thinking of writing some kind of case study for a psychology journal on the whole phenomenon of delusional nondating.”

“Bite me,” Mack replied cheerfully, then took out his phone. “Pizza okay for everyone?”

“Works for me,” Connor said, then looked pointedly at his unexpected guests. “As long as it doesn’t come with a side order of meddling.”

“Absolutely not,” Kevin said solemnly.

“Agreed,” Trace said.

“No meddling with dinner,” Will said, then grinned. “We’re saving that for dessert.”

“How’d things go with Heather today?” Mick asked Megan when they met for dinner at one of the small cafés along Shore Road in the same block as her gallery.

“She’s getting settled in,” Megan told him. “I think her business is going to be wildly successful. She showed me
her apartment upstairs today, too, and it’s adorable, just right for her and little Mick.”

“I still don’t understand why she wouldn’t move into the house with us,” Mick grumbled. “Little Mick’s already comfortable there. We have plenty of room.”

“And it would put the two of them right in Connor’s face every time he comes home,” Megan said. “Is that what you were hoping for?”

“Well, why not?” Mick replied testily. “If those two would spend a little more time together, they could work things out. You know it as well as I do.”

“I also know they can’t be rushed. Time apart may be the best thing for them right now.”

Mick regarded his wife with amusement. “Don’t act as if you’re not doing your share of manipulating, woman. I know all about the way you put a bug in Kevin’s ear to spend some time with Connor tonight. The way I hear it, he, Jake, Trace, Will and Mack have all been dispatched to Connor’s place to extol the joys of married life.”

Megan regarded him innocently. “Will and Mack aren’t married.”

“Maybe not, but Will’s a shrink, so he has all sorts of insights to offer, I’m sure. As for Mack, he might as well be, for all the time he’s spending with Susie these days.” He shook his head in bewilderment. “I have no idea why my brother hasn’t stepped in and taken control of that situation. It’s time for Mack to get off the dime and propose to that girl, or at least admit he’s dating her.”

“Your brother is not the natural-born meddler that you are,” Megan reminded him. “I’m sure Susie and Mack are very grateful for that.”

“There you go, sounding all superior again, when I
know for a fact you’re every bit the meddler that I am,” Mick accused.

Megan laughed. “What can I say? I want all of our children to be as happy and settled as we are.”

Mick studied her face, looking for any sign of discontent. After missing too many hints of unhappiness during their first marriage, he was determined to be attuned to every nuance of their relationship this time around.

“You mean that?” he asked directly. “You’re happy?”

“Of course I am. I have everything I could possibly want. You and I are back together. I’ve opened a business I love, and it’s gotten off to a solid start. And my relationship with each of our children is getting stronger every day. What could I possibly have to complain about?”

“Maybe the fact that you never did get that honeymoon I promised you,” Mick suggested.

Megan shrugged as if having the honeymoon of her dreams was of no consequence, even though they’d only been able to afford a trip to Ocean City for a weekend when they’d first wed all those years ago.

“That’s my own fault, not yours,” she told him. “Everything started coming together for the gallery right after the first of the year. There was no time to get away.”

“And now?” he asked. “You think you could spare a little time for me?”

“The gallery’s opened. My assistant’s trained. I suppose I could get away,” she said thoughtfully, then met his gaze with a sparkle in her eyes. “I’m quite sure that wasn’t an idle question, Mick O’Brien. What did you have in mind?”

“A week in Paris,” he said at once. He pulled two tickets out of his pocket and set them on the table. “And
before you get all worked up over me being presumptuous, note that they don’t have a date on them. We can go whenever you say the word.”

Megan reached for his hand. “Who could have imagined that you could still learn a thing or two at this late date?”

He laughed at that. “When the motivation’s powerful enough, a man can always learn something new. I hope Connor figures that out before it’s too late.”

Megan’s previously lighthearted mood visibly darkened at his words. “Oh, Mick, I hope so, too, but there’s only so much you and I can do to make sure that happens. The rest is up to him and Heather.”

Mick knew that, but nevertheless it went against the grain to leave something so important to chance.

“You won’t object if I do a thing or two to nudge things along, will you?” he asked.

She gave him a stern look. “Nudge all you want, but pay attention to the signs, Mick. When they’re all but shouting to back off, do it. I mean that.” She grinned at him. “And something tells me this is definitely an ideal time for me to get you out of town before you do something we’ll both regret. Make those reservations for Paris. I’ll try to keep you preoccupied over there, so Connor and Heather can have a little breathing room back here.”

“A sneaky approach,” he said approvingly, “but you’re forgetting one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m great at multitasking.”

Megan met his gaze, laughter lurking in her eyes. “Is that so?” she inquired softly as she deliberately ran her hand along the inside of his thigh. “Do you really want
to bet that I can’t make you forget all about Chesapeake Shores, much less meddling?”

Mick swallowed hard. Sadly, she had a point. The good news was that they were going to have one helluva time while she set out to prove it.

T
he combined efforts of the men in his family and his friends convinced Connor to make the drive to Chesapeake Shores on Saturday. He hadn’t been home since his parents’ wedding on New Year’s Eve. Though he’d made his peace with both Mick and even Megan, things seemed to go better between them when he kept his distance. Their capacity for meddling was beyond his for resisting. They’d made their opinions of his relationship with Heather crystal clear.

The drive home had been pleasant for a change. Although the weather was especially mild for late March, it was too early for most of the tourists and weekenders who flocked to the small towns on the Chesapeake Bay later in the season.

Arriving in Chesapeake Shores to discover all the hints that spring was just around the corner, he realized how much he missed being home. This time of year the town green was edged with beds of daffodils, the salty air of the bay beckoned and there was something special about the way the morning sun filtered through a haze and sparkled on the dew that covered the fresh green lawns.

With temperatures hovering close to seventy, he actually had visions of taking his old rowboat out for a lazy day of fishing. Maybe he could even convince Kevin to come along. It had been ages since they’d spent an idle day out on the water together.

Before heading toward home, he made the drive along Main Street, then turned right onto Shore Road. It was practically a ritual to take a tour of the town his father and uncles had built, to see what was happening. There were always one or two changes that caught him by surprise, especially in spring, when most new businesses chose to open in time for the summer tourist season.

He spotted the “Open” flag fluttering outside his mother’s new art gallery and resolved to make his duty call there later in the day, since he’d missed the official opening. He was anxious to see if she was as knowledgeable about art as his father and the rest of the family seemed to think she was.

Before he drove on, Connor caught a glimpse of another new store right next door. A beautiful handmade quilt hung in the window, a quilt, he realized with a sense of shock, that looked very familiar because it—or one exactly like it—had once hung on the wall in his townhouse. It was the one thing that had gone missing after Heather’s departure.

Slamming on the brakes, he looked around until he spotted a parking place up the street. He swung into it, then tried to still the sudden racing of his heart. He knew that quilt because Heather had made it. He’d watched her in the evenings as she’d stitched every seam, quilted every square, while he’d been studying for his law school classes. He’d been captivated by the contentment on her
face as she’d worked quietly, happy just to be in a room with him.

Spotting that quilt in a store window shouldn’t throw him like this, he thought as he strode across the street. It shouldn’t matter to him that she’d apparently put it up for sale. But it did.

It offended him to think that maybe she was giving it up because she needed cash. How much could a quilt bring in, anyway? He thought he’d been giving her generous support money for their son, enough for both of them really, but maybe it wasn’t covering expenses, after all. He knew, though, from their heated exchanges, that she was too proud to take more.

Worse, of course, was the idea that she was selling the quilt because she couldn’t bear to look at it anymore, because it reminded her of him. Had she grown to hate him so much? It was true that most of their conversations recently had been brief and edgy, but he’d convinced himself they’d eventually move past the cool civility of late. Maybe that was just another of his many delusions where Heather was concerned, right up there beside the idea that she would change her mind and move back home with him.

He glanced at the sign on the window, which he hadn’t noticed earlier: C
OTTAGE
Q
UILTS
. For some reason that struck a distant chord as well. Had Heather ever mentioned opening a shop like this one? Was it one of the dreams she’d had before setting them aside to be with him? He’d known how much she’d hated teaching, but he couldn’t recall what she’d hoped to do instead once the baby was a bit older. That just reminded him of how many conversa
tions they’d avoided over their years together. Anything involving the future had presented a minefield.

Just then he saw and heard her, Heather, standing amid a sea of fabric with a customer, talking animatedly about which colors worked well together and which ones clashed. With a sense of shock, he realized that not only was her quilt for sale, but that she was working here. How had that happened? Filled with questions, he stood where he was, just outside the open door, and waited.

When the customer left with a heavy bag filled with fabric, Connor stepped inside. Heather looked up, a smile on her face that faltered at the sight of him.

“Connor,” she said, a catch in her voice. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“Chesapeake Shores is my home,” he reminded her, his own tone testy. “What the devil are you doing here?”

She gestured around her. “What does it look like? I’ve opened a business.”

A thousand questions came to mind, but he blurted only one. “This is yours?”

She nodded, her expression defensive.

“You opened a business here? In my town?” he said incredulously.

She smiled at his reaction. “Actually if the town belongs to any one person, it would be your father, but I’m pretty sure it’s open to new residents.”

“You didn’t think you needed to tell me you’d moved here?”

“I would have as soon as we got settled. Getting this place open has taken a lot of my time.”

“Don’t tell me you’re living with my folks,” he said, regarding her with suspicion, already sensing a plot afoot
to throw them together. After all, wasn’t that exactly what his mother had hinted at her wedding, that she intended to see that he was next to walk down the aisle? And it would definitely explain the unexpected visit by all the men in the family the previous weekend and their push to drag him down here.

“No. Believe me, I know that would have been a bad idea. I have my own apartment upstairs. Your mother and I…”

He frowned at the mention of his mother. “What does my mother have to do with this? Was it her idea?”

“In a way, yes,” Heather admitted at once.

“And you went along with it,” he said with a dismayed shake of his head. “Haven’t I told you she can’t be trusted?”

Heather visibly stiffened. “You told me a lot of things, Connor, all probably valid from your perspective, but I prefer to form my own opinions of people. I happen to like your mother, and even you have to admit she’s been a godsend in recent months, looking after little Mick.”

Connor bristled. “That still doesn’t mean you should take her advice. Did she tell you if you settled here, eventually I’d cave in and marry you?”

Heather frowned at him. “Trust me, I know your position on marriage, Connor. You’ve stated it often enough and in no uncertain terms. It’s ingrained in my head.”

“Then what are you doing here?” he asked again, genuinely bewildered about why she’d pick this town if not because it was his hometown.

“This decision was all about me and what I want for my future. Your mother saw my quilts and thought I had talent. When I was here for the wedding, she mentioned
this space and the apartment upstairs. It seemed ideal for me, especially since it meant our son would get to be around his grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. It was a far better option than going back to Ohio to be around my family, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

As rational as all that sounded, Connor couldn’t get over the fact that she’d kept this from him. “We’ve seen each other at least a half-dozen times since the wedding when you brought little Mick to spend the day with me, yet you never said a word about any of this. Why not?”

“You’ve always known exactly how to reach me on my cell phone. You haven’t missed a minute with your son. I didn’t think you’d be interested in knowing where I’m living,” she said with a shrug.

“Of course I’m interested. We’re talking about my son!” he said, his voice climbing.

He saw a bit of light die in her eyes at his words and knew he’d said exactly the wrong thing. It was a habit he’d inadvertently gotten into and couldn’t seem to break. When he should have been telling Heather he missed her, he couldn’t seem to choke out the words. The admission would have revealed a vulnerability he wasn’t prepared for her to see.

“Nothing’s changed where little Mick’s concerned,” Heather assured him, her voice tight. “You’ll still see him whenever you want to. This might not be as convenient as having us in Baltimore, but we’re hardly at the ends of the earth. Besides, other than giving him a chance to get to know his family, this move wasn’t about him, either. It was about me, and it’s been clear for some time now that I don’t matter to you. It was past time for a fresh start. Chesapeake Shores had a lot of advantages that other
places wouldn’t have had. I’m sure even you can’t deny that.”

He understood why she thought she didn’t matter to him, but it annoyed him just the same. “Don’t be ridiculous. I love you. We have a son together. And what kind of fresh start is it, if you’re surrounded by
my
family?”

“This is where I need to be right now. Deal with it,” she said.

Her tone was surprisingly unyielding. What had happened to the accommodating woman he’d known so well? Before he could ask, she held up her hand to stop him.

“I am not having this discussion here, where a customer could come in at any moment,” she said firmly. “Please go, Connor. If you want to spend some time with your son today, he’s with your dad. I think Mick planned to take advantage of the weather and take him and his cousins Davy and Henry out on the dock by the house to fish.”

Connor wanted to stand here and argue with her, tell her that moving here, getting close to his family was a mistake, but he didn’t have the right. His stubborn refusal to take the next step and marry her had cost him the chance to have any say over her decisions beyond those directly related to their son. And how could he possibly argue that a place as serene as Chesapeake Shores with his own family all around was anything other than a perfect place to raise a child? He dropped the argument.

“Will I see you at the house later?” he asked.

“I doubt it. Shanna will bring little Mick home when she picks up Davy and Henry.”

“Tomorrow?” he pressed, not sure why he wanted to
know just how deeply she’d insinuated herself into his family’s routines. “Will you be at Sunday dinner?”

She held his gaze. “Will it bother you if I am?”

“Of course not,” he said, managing to utter the lie despite a boatload of regrets. Seeing her, knowing he’d lost her, was some kind of sweet torture.

“Then we’ll see you there. Maybe we’ll have a chance to talk about how we’re going to make this work.” She gave him a hesitant smile. “Connor, I don’t want it to be awkward every time we run into each other. I really don’t.”

He sighed. “Neither do I.”

He just wasn’t sure it was possible to act as if everything between them had never mattered. Because the truth was, he’d realized months ago that she and his son were the
only
things in his life that did matter. He just didn’t see any way to hold on to them without betraying his core belief that most marriages were a sham and led, not to happily-ever-after but to misery.

Back at the house his father had built when he was first developing Chesapeake Shores, Connor paused long enough to throw his bag into his boyhood room, which still had his old sports posters on the walls. In the kitchen he grabbed a handful of Gram’s cookies, relieved to find that she hadn’t stopped baking, even though everyone, including her, had moved out of the main house, leaving it to his father and mother. Apparently Gram still made sure the cookie jar was stocked for visits by all of her great-grandchildren.

Crossing the wide expanse of lawn toward the bay, he could hear the laughter of children coming from the
dock, followed by the low, surprisingly patient voice of his father. Stepping out onto the weathered gray boards, warmed by the midday sun, Connor stood unnoticed as his father baited hooks and helped his three grandsons cast their lines, one arm firmly around little Mick at all times. Only Henry and Davy had any real hope of reeling in a fish, but even from his spot in his grandfather’s lap, little Mick dangled his line into the calm waters of the bay, chattering happily to himself in nonsensical words, to which Mick replied as if he could understand him perfectly.

“I wish I had a camera,” Connor said quietly, causing Mick to glance up with a broad smile. “I can’t recall a time you ever spent the day fishing with me and Kevin.”

Mick’s smile faded at the barb. “You’re probably right. And it was my loss. I thank God every day that I have another chance with these boys.”

Up until now Davy and Henry had been totally absorbed with watching the water for some evidence that fish were nearby. When they looked up and spotted Connor, grins broke across their faces. Here was the uncle who was more grown-up playmate than authority figure.

“Uncle Connor, sit with us,” Davy pleaded. “You can put the worms on my line.”

“Big boys put their own bait on the hooks,” Mick told him firmly. “I just showed you how to do it.”

Davy wrinkled his nose. “But it’s yucky.”

Connor grinned. “That it is. Give me a minute with your granddad and little Mick, then I’ll come help you.”

While listening to the exchange, Mick studied Connor
curiously. “What brings you home? Were we expecting you?”

“Do I need to make a reservation these days?” Connor asked defensively. For a time he’d been banished from his home for trying to interfere in his father’s plan to wed his mother again, but he’d thought his exile was in the past. In fact, he’d even moved in for a time when Heather had left his son here for several weeks. He’d commuted to work in Baltimore during that time.

“Of course you don’t need a reservation,” Mick said impatiently. “You just haven’t come back here since the wedding. Or should I say since Heather took your boy to be with her?”