Driftwood Cottage (20 page)

Something in his tone caught her attention. “Do you know anything about that? You’d already talked to the Realtor, hadn’t you? That’s why you came by, to let me down gently.”

He shook his head. “Not exactly.”

“Oh? Were you planning to gloat?”

“No.” He tossed something at her, which she snatched instinctively from the air.

“What’s this?” she asked, clasping what appeared to be a rusty piece of metal.

“The key to your dream house,” he told her.

She stared at him incredulously. “It was you?
You
bought my house?”

“I did.”

“But why? You hated it. Did you just do it to torment me?”

He seemed startled by the accusation. “Of course not. Why would I want to torment you? You wanted the house. I bought the house for us, for our future.”

“But there is no us,” she said, unable to stop the sense of betrayal that washed over her. “That means you bought it for you. How could you, Connor?”

He held up a hand. “Hold it a second. You fell in love with that house. Heaven knows why, but you did. I bought it. My dad’s going to renovate it to your specifications. I’m not seeing the problem here. I thought you’d be happy.”

“Happy to have you living in the house I wanted?” she asked incredulously. “Why would that make me happy?”

Connor shook his head. “Okay, I think we need to back up the train a minute. I thought I explained this. I bought the house for us,” he explained patiently. “You, me and little Mick, in case I wasn’t clear enough.”

“I’m not going to move in with you again just because you bought a house,” she said with exasperation.

Suddenly he laughed.

“Now you’re laughing at me? Just go away. I don’t want to see you right now.”

“Not going anywhere,” he said, pulling a chair over beside the sofa and sitting down. “I guess I forgot to mention that the house is my wedding present to you. You know, for when you decide to marry me.”

Heather tried not to let the suddenly rapid beating of her heart influence her reason. “But we’re not getting married,” she reminded him.

“Maybe not right away,” he said agreeably. “But we will.”

“I told you—”

“You’ve told me a lot of things and, believe me, I’ve heard every one of them. I’m just choosing not to accept that particular statement. I get why you said no. Who could blame you? I’ve been a pigheaded idiot for way too long now, but I have seen the light. I want what you want.”

She studied him with a narrowed gaze. He seemed sincere. And he had bought her the house she wanted. “What exactly is it that you think I want?” she asked cautiously, wanting more than anything for him to pass the test.

“Happily-ever-after,” he said at once. “A family, a house and a husband who loves you to distraction.”

“And you think you can give me that?”

“I know I can,” he said with total confidence.

“But you don’t believe in happily-ever-after,” she reminded him.

He hesitated, and that was all it took to ruin everything. That one shining moment of hope dimmed. She regarded him sadly.

“It’s okay, Connor. I know you want to want that, but it’s just not who you are. I’ve accepted that. You can stop trying so hard.”

To her surprise, his gaze never wavered. “Not a chance, sweetheart. I’ll never stop trying to prove that I’m ready for this.” He gave her a chagrined look. “It’s going to be
a little hard to top buying a house for you, but I’ll come up with something to convince you.”

Heather regarded him with surprise. This was a Connor she’d never seen before. His words were familiar, but there was a glint of determination in his voice, an air of confidence about him that was new. And for the very first time, she wondered if maybe things were different, after all.

Though he’d worked very hard to present a determined attitude in the face of Heather’s skepticism, Connor was thrown by the fact that she was still resisting his proposal. He joined Will at Brady’s, in need of some masculine company. Men made sense. In his recent experience, women did not.

“So, I go against every instinct I possess to buy that godforsaken house for her to prove just how committed I am to our future, and what does Heather do? She says no. Even worse, she’s mad at me for buying
her
house.”

Will laughed. “Buying the house was Jess’s idea, wasn’t it?”

Connor stared at him. “In a way, yes. How’d you know?”

“Your sister is a big fan of the grand gesture. She was very impressed when Trace bought that house for Abby to prove he was ready to settle down.”

“Come to think of it, Abby wasn’t much happier about that than Heather is about what I did. Maybe I need to stop listening to Jess. She doesn’t seem to have her finger on the female pulse, after all.”

Will chuckled. “Oh, Abby liked the house well enough.”

“Then why did it take so long for Trace to actually get her down the aisle?” Connor asked, thinking back to how rattled Trace had been by Abby’s refusal to set a wedding date, even after they’d been living together for ages. He met Will’s gaze. “Do you know?”

“Actually, Kevin is the one who nailed it,” Will admitted. “He figured out that Abby kept waiting for Trace to morph into some kind of control freak the way her first husband did after they were married. She was sure he’d suddenly start demanding that she quit work, live full-time in Chesapeake Shores and so on. Once Kevin called her on that and told her that Trace was nothing like Wes Winters, she decided it was okay to follow her heart.”

“I see,” Connor said, considering the information. “Do you suppose something like that’s going on with Heather?”

Will looked puzzled. “I’m not following. Heather’s never been married before. Her one big relationship has been with you.”

“And we both know that I insisted for a very long time that I would never get married. She obviously doesn’t think I’ve changed, even though the words coming out of my mouth say I have.” He paused, then added, “Or she doesn’t want to believe me.”

Will nodded. “Okay, I’m with you so far. What are you thinking?”

Connor wasn’t sure he could put his suspicions into words that would make any sense, but if anyone could grasp what he was getting at, it would be Will. He not only had the training, but he had excellent insight into human nature.

“Okay,” Connor began slowly, trying to pull together
his thoughts. “Heather’s parents have had a rocky marriage. From what I gather, there was always a lot of tension in the house. Heather prides herself on having risen above that. She insists she still believes in love despite all evidence to the contrary in her own home.”

Will nodded. “I get that. Keep going.”

“But what if that’s just a line she’s sold herself?” Connor asked, warming to his theory. “What if down deep she’s as scared as I am that marriage doesn’t stand a chance? She can hardly admit that to me, of all people, not after she’s taken such a strong position on the subject.”

“Makes sense,” Will agreed.

“Wouldn’t that mean she has to come up with a thousand and one excuses to keep turning me down, trying to lay the blame right back at my feet?”

“So essentially you’re saying that now that she has the real option of getting married to you, she’s the one who’s gotten cold feet?” Will said slowly, his expression thoughtful. “You know, it could be. She might not even be aware that the tension in her parents’ marriage has influenced her so deeply.”

Connor’s momentary sense of triumph at having unraveled an emotional mystery was short-lived. “So how am I supposed to fix that? I’ve always been the doubter. I’m new to being the one who thinks marriage is the answer.”

Will gave him an amused look. “If I tell you that, I’ll have to charge you for a session,” he taunted.

“Bite me. Don’t start holding out on me now. I’m about to buy a house for my family. I don’t want to wait around till we’re in our seventies to work things out and move into it.”

“You might have to wait a while,” Will told him realistically. “Not until you’re in your seventies, of course, but it could take time for you to prove to Heather that your sudden turn-about is real and for her to recognize that it’s her subconscious that’s now holding her back.”

Connor frowned. “Isn’t there a way to speed up the process? Lately I’ve been thinking about a fall wedding.”

“Then you might have to call her on it,” Will said. “Lay out your suspicions. Turn the tables on her. See how she reacts to this theory of yours.”

“You really think she’ll admit it?” he asked doubtfully. Heather was as stubborn as any O’Brien.

“No,” Will said cheerfully. “But once the idea’s out there, she’ll have to at least consider it.”

Connor tried to envision the conversation. He couldn’t see any scenario under which it would turn out in his favor. And yet, what choice did he have, unless he wanted to remain in limbo?

“Maybe you could drop by, have a chat with her?” he suggested in desperation.

“I don’t do sneak-attack sessions,” Will said. “If she wants to come to see me, I’m happy to work through this with her. I’m just not sure I’d want to be in your shoes if you suggest it.”

“Believe me, I get that. I didn’t take it too well when she told me I ought to see someone to deal with my issues.”

“I think on behalf of my profession, I’m insulted,” Will said.

“You shouldn’t be. Why would I go hire a stranger, when you’re my friend?” He slapped Will on the back. “And a darn good one at that!”

“Then you can pay for our drinks,” Will said cheerfully. “The check’s not as much as I usually charge, so consider yourself as having received the friends-and-family discount.”

“Gladly,” Connor told him. “But I will remember this moment when you come to me looking for a shoulder to cry on about my sister.”

“I don’t need anyone’s shoulder to cry on about Jess,” Will claimed, though his expression turned despondent. “That ship sailed a long time ago.”

“Really?” Connor said innocently. “I was pretty sure it was still at the dock. Maybe you need to check.”

Will shook his head. “I’ve already surpassed my threshold for pain in that department. I’ve moved on.”

Connor was about to argue, but then he saw the genuine hurt in Will’s eyes. That alone was enough to silence him. He’d always thought of Will as a roll-with-the-punches kind of guy. That Jess had truly hurt him was a little shocking.

After watching everyone in his family do their share of meddling, Connor had vowed never to do the same, but these circumstances were different. It was Will and Jess, for heaven’s sake, one of his best friends and his baby sister.

One of these days, when he thought the timing was right, he was going to have a whole lot to say to his sister about being blind to one of the best men he’d ever known.

T
hey’d had their morning coffee together and Megan was about to head to work, when Mick decided to join her. He had some things in town that needed doing, and he saw no reason to put them off.

“Mind if I tag along?” he asked, following along as Megan headed for her car.

She stopped and stared. “You want to go to the gallery with me? Since when?”

“To be honest, I was thinking I might drop in next door,” he admitted.

Megan’s expression immediately turned to dismay. “Mick, you’re not going over to Heather’s to interfere, are you? Connor will have a fit if you do.”

He gave her a defiant look. “Well, somebody has to get those two to work out their differences. This has dragged on long enough. I want a wedding. I want more grand-babies before I’m too old to play with them.”

“We have Carrie and Caitlyn, Kevin’s two boys and now Bree and Jake’s little girl,” Megan reminded him. “And, of course, there’s your namesake. Let’s not forget that little Mick’s a part of our lives, mostly because we haven’t chased Heather off by pressuring her.”

“I’m not going to pressure her,” Mick insisted indignantly. “I’m just going to check out the lay of the land, so to speak. Besides, I have the perfect excuse. Connor wants me to renovate that house for her. I need to get her ideas down on paper, don’t I?”

“An interesting approach,” she conceded. “But the last I heard, Heather was still furious that Connor bought the house she wanted for herself. You may be rubbing salt in a very fresh wound.”

“Or giving her some much-needed perspective,” Mick countered, convinced that he was doing what needed to be done. His wife might have very fine instincts about people, but she had more patience than he did. “Heather probably just needs someone older and wiser to help her see that Connor was only thinking of her.”

“If I were Heather, I’d probably think he was trying to blackmail her into marrying him, just the way he did when he told her he’d get her out of the hospital if she agreed to marry him.”

For an instant, Mick was shocked. “He did that?”

“According to Bridget, he did. Oh, he didn’t mean it to come out that way, but Heather’s obviously touchy about this sudden attitude shift of his. She doesn’t trust it.”

“Maybe I can make her see that it’s real,” Mick said optimistically.

Megan didn’t look entirely convinced, but she waited until he’d settled in the passenger seat before starting the engine and heading for town. If she’d been truly annoyed, she’d have had time to drive off without him. He took heart from the fact that she hadn’t.

After she’d pulled into a parking spot behind the gallery, Mick said, “I think I’ll walk around to Sally’s and pick up a couple of croissants and some coffee.”

His wife regarded him with amusement. “Are you thinking that if you come bearing baked goods, Heather won’t toss you back onto the street?”

“It can’t hurt,” he admitted. Despite his earlier display of confidence, he wasn’t all that sure of his welcome. Megan was the one who’d established a real rapport with Heather. Perhaps she was the one who ought to be inter-ceding. He gave her a hopeful look. “Maybe you should come along with me. The two of you seemed to bond after she left little Mick with us.”

Megan backed up a step. “Don’t involve me in your scheming. I need to keep those lines of communication open. Right now I may be one of the few people in our family Heather trusts.”

Mick shrugged. “Suit yourself. Can I bring you anything from Sally’s?”

“I’ll take a coffee, but you can skip the croissant. I feel as if I’ve been eating nonstop with Nell fixing all these family meals every couple of days.”

Mick nodded. He strolled down the block and around the corner, stopping to greet and chat with a half-dozen friends on the way. It was after eleven by the time he actually made his way back to Heather’s, so he stopped and picked up sandwiches at Panini Bistro while he was at it. He might as well arrive well-fortified with bribes.

He dropped Megan’s coffee off at the gallery, managed to avoid another of her lectures, then climbed the stairs to Heather’s apartment. When he knocked on the door, he heard her shout for him to come in. When he entered, though, she looked startled.

“Oh, I thought you were Connie. She called a short while ago to say she was going to stop by and bring lunch.”

“I may not be Connie, but I did bring food,” Mick told her. “You have your choice of a ham-and-cheese panini or a chocolate croissant. Or both, for that matter.”

Her eyes brightened. “It sounds wonderful, Mick, but I probably shouldn’t, since Connie’s going to all that trouble to bring something over.”

“Then save this for dinner,” Mick said easily. He put his offerings in the kitchen, then took a seat across from her. He surveyed her frankly, relieved to see some color—other than black and blue—back in her cheeks. “You look a whole lot better than you did a couple of weeks ago,” he told her. “How are you feeling?”

“Physically, not bad, but I’m sick to death of being stuck in here. The only time I’ve gotten out was when Connor took me.” She narrowed her gaze. “I imagine you know about that.”

Mick saw no point in denying it. “In fact, it’s one of the reasons I came by,” he admitted. “I thought we could talk about the changes you’d like to see made at the house.”

Her jaw set stubbornly. “It’s not my house. Your son bought it. He can do what he wants with it.”

Mick held back a grin. “Connor seems to think he bought it for you.”

She gave him an exasperated look. “Only because he gets these crazy, impulsive ideas in his head and then expects everyone to go along with them.”

“I can see how that would be frustrating,” Mick conceded. He’d been accused of the same flaw often enough—justifiably, if he was being honest about it. “But tell me this, do you love that house as much as he thinks you do?”

The wistful expression on her face would have given her away, even if she hadn’t nodded.

“Do you love Connor?”

“Not the point,” she said, her voice suddenly tight.

Mick grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes. So, here’s how I see it. You can refuse to give me any input and the house will get renovated the way Connor or I decide it should be done, or you can participate in the process and get your dream house.”

“And then watch Connor move into it,” she said, sounding resigned.

“Hey, this is my vision, and that’s not what I see,” he contradicted. “I figure the two of you will eventually work out your differences and you’ll be living there together. That’s just a matter of time and some careful negotiations over the terms. Personally, my vote’s for marriage, but I’m not interfering.”

The comment drew a disbelieving chuckle.

Mick continued. “So, as I see it, the only question open for debate is what the house will look like when that happens.”

She looked startled for an instant by his assessment, then laughed. “I see now where Connor got his arrogance.”

“It’s an O’Brien gene, no question about it,” Mick said unapologetically. “So, Heather, what’s it going to be? You going to let my son decide how that house gets fixed up, or are you going to put your stamp on it?”

She hesitated for so long, he thought maybe he’d over-played his hand, but then she reached for a folder on the coffee table. Its proximity suggested she’d been through it recently.

“I do have a few ideas,” she admitted.

Mick chuckled. “I thought you might.”

She held the fat folder tightly before handing it over.
“I’ve been stuffing pictures into this folder for years now. I dragged them out after I saw Driftwood Cottage. I’ve already weeded out the ones I don’t think will work, but I’m sure I have more ideas than you’ll ever need.”

“Never hurts to look at everything,” Mick said. “Then we can talk it through and revise it to fit the structure we have to work with.”

“What’s my budget?” she asked, suddenly sounding eager. Her eyes were alight with excitement as well.

“You let Connor worry about that. You just tell me what you want, and he and I will figure out how to make it happen.”

She regarded him with amazement. “Are you like my fairy godfather?” she asked.

Mick nearly choked on a sip of coffee. “Those should probably be fighting words, but I think I get your meaning. No, I’m just a man who wants to see three people I love happy. Getting to be a part of that is an old man’s privilege.”

And it was going to happen. Even the expression on her face when she’d been complaining about Connor buying her house showed how badly she wanted it to be
theirs,
instead. He was more sure than ever that Heather and his son were destined to be together, if only they’d get out of their own way and let it happen.

Connor winced when he saw the rough sketches his father had made of the renovations for Driftwood Cottage. “How much is that going to set me back?”

“You have a trust fund,” Mick reminded him. “You’re the only one in the family who hasn’t tapped into it. And
I can’t think of a better use for that money I set aside for you.”

“And Heather actually went along with it when you told her what you were up to?”

“I have a whole folder filled with her ideas. It seems she’s been tearing pictures out of magazines for years now. It’s my job to blend them into a cohesive whole.” He met Connor’s gaze. “You know the funny thing? That rickety old house looks a whole lot like what she’d been dreaming about all this time. I think it was fate that took the two of you along that road the other day.”

Connor wasn’t sure how much fate had to do with it. Jess was the one who’d put the notion of a day at the beach into his head. And she’d probably known exactly where he’d go. He wondered if she’d also known about that house being for sale. He’d have to ask her about that one of these days. Her sneakiness quotient was a match for anyone else’s in the family.

“Do you really think you can turn that old place into something livable?” he asked his father.

“Against a lot of odds, I built a town, didn’t I? One little house renovation isn’t going to defeat me.” He gave Connor a sly look. “Just so you know, I’m taking Heather along with me tomorrow around ten o’clock, so we can nail down a few of her ideas. I doubt she’d object if you happened to show up.”

Connor shook his head. “That wasn’t even subtle, Dad. You must be losing your touch.”

“No. Just tired of wasting time. I’m thinking the direct approach is called for. You going to be there or not?”

“Since you’re spending my money, I’ll be there,” Connor assured him.

And he wouldn’t mind the chance to spend a little time with Heather so he could float some of his theories about her sudden reluctance to marry him. It might be good to do that with his dad around to referee in case she took exception to his attempt to psychoanalyze her. She might thoroughly enjoy dissecting his psyche, but he had a hunch she wasn’t going to be quite so receptive to having the tables turned.

The July day dawned with temperatures already near eighty and the humidity levels just as high. Only a faint breeze stirring through the trees kept it from being unbearably oppressive. And yet, Heather thought, as she sat in the shade in a chair Mick had thoughtfully brought along, it was pleasant enough. She could already imagine sitting out here with a book on a summer afternoon. In fact, it would be lovely to have a screened-in gazebo right in this spot, with a view of the water and protection against the mosquitoes.

She’d just swatted viciously at another one when Connor drove up. He frowned as he crossed the yard. “What was Dad thinking, letting you sit out here to get eaten alive by the bugs?” he grumbled.

“He was thinking it would be cooler than inside the house, to say nothing of safer,” she replied. “He doesn’t seem to have any more faith in the flooring than you did when we first saw this place.”

Connor shook his head. “You should have stayed in his truck with the air-conditioning running.”

“That from a man who preaches about going green,” she responded. “I’m fine. Stop fussing over me.”

He sighed. “I’m always going to fuss over you. You
should hear the way Dad goes on about Mom all the time. I think it comes with the territory.”

“What territory is that?” she asked, studying him curiously.

“Loving someone.” Before she could challenge that, he added, “You fuss over little Mick, don’t you? It’s the same thing.”

“He’s a child, Connor. I’m not.”

He shook his head. “Then you don’t mind the bugs? Fine with me. I was going to at least offer you the can of spray I keep in the car, but if you’re not interested…”

Heather wanted to remain stubbornly silent, but the landing of another mosquito on her arm and one on her leg forced her to reconsider. “I’ll take the spray,” she said grudgingly.

“Now you’re being sensible,” he praised, trotting off to his car and returning with the bottle of insect repellant. “Let me.” He squirted the stuff over every inch of bared skin, then gave a nod of satisfaction. “Now, tell me what you and Dad have decided.”

“Nothing yet. The last time I saw him, he was holding the pictures I’d shown him and walking around muttering to himself.”

Connor laughed. “The creative genius at work. The good news is I guarantee he’ll come back here with rough sketches that will blow your mind. He showed me a few preliminary drawings last night, so I’m sure he’s in there right now refining those. For all of the issues I’ve had with my father over the years, I can’t deny he’s one of the best architects around.”

Heather lifted her gaze and dared to meet his eyes. “Connor, I don’t want to take advantage of you. Your dad
insisted that I make suggestions about what I want, but this really is your house. It feels wrong for me to have any say at all.”

“We both know I have no sense of design or color,” Connor reminded her. “Remember when you said you wanted little Mick’s room to be yellow and I came home with paint that looked like the mustard that goes on hot dogs at the ball park?”

Heather smiled at the memory. “That should have been a warning,” she agreed. “And yet I still sent you out to get the green paint for the living room. If we’d used what you brought back, it would have been like living inside a Christmas tree.”