Driftwood Cottage (6 page)

Ironically, it wasn’t Heather’s face he saw in his head, but Gram’s. He heard her reminding him over and over that Megan deserved his respect, even when he was angriest at what she’d done to the family. Gram would be appalled by Clint Wilder, a man willing to publicly sully his wife’s reputation out of greed.

In the end, though, Connor knew he would win for the director in court, because that’s what he did. But for the first time, at the end of the day, he didn’t feel entirely good about it.

When the firm’s senior partner, Grayson Hudson, walked into his office and asked about the case later, Connor shrugged. “It’ll get a lot of publicity,” he said, as if that were all that mattered.

“Just make sure the firm looks good,” Grayson told him. “You’re very good at what you do, Connor. That’s why I used you myself when Cynthia and I split up. But your tendency to go for broke can stir up sympathy for the other side. You make sure that man’s wife isn’t going to come through this looking like Mother Teresa, you hear?”

Connor thought about Wilder’s veiled references to his wife’s past. “Doubtful, sir,” he said confidently.

“Just do your homework, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Not to worry. I always do.”

After all, Connor reflected, wasn’t he the one who was known in his family for having very little faith in the human race? He left next to nothing to chance. Even though he had Clint Wilder’s word that his wife had skeletons in her closet, he’d put a private detective to work checking her background within five minutes of the man walking out of his office. He wasn’t about to enter a mediation room or a courtroom without knowing everything there was to know about the other side.

Using the dirt, though? That was another matter and one he had no idea how he would handle.

Though he was immersed in work, Connor still wasn’t able to keep Heather out of his head. Every time he drew up a line of attack in another case, he heard her voice questioning his tactics and his motives. It was getting annoying.

In fact, just being unable to get her out of his head was annoying. The only way he could think of to change that was to put his social life on a fast track.

For the next couple of weeks, he spent his evenings
hitting every bar in town with various colleagues from his law firm. Though he met plenty of attractive, intelligent professional women, not a one of them held a candle to Heather. Her image haunted him.

He reached for the phone a half-dozen times a day, tempted to call so he could hear the sound of her voice. He even had a built-in excuse, wanting to get updates on their son. It was downright pitiful that he even considered resorting to that.

In the end, he resisted because he knew she’d see through the excuse. Anyone in his family could tell him what was going on with little Mick. It wouldn’t take frequent calls to Heather to learn how his son was doing. Besides, she left him regular messages herself. They were too short, too unsatisfactory. What he needed was a real conversation.

His inability to get on with his life clearly meant that he needed to try harder.

The next woman he met, he asked on a date, then spent an evening in one of Baltimore’s finest restaurants being bored out of his mind. It seemed all she cared about was whether he’d met any of the stars in Clint Wilder’s movie. He repeated the pattern for another couple of weeks, then finally conceded he was wasting his time.

On the Saturday morning of Easter weekend, he got in his car and drove once again to Chesapeake Shores, using the excuse that it had been too long since he’d seen his son. He somehow managed to blame Heather for that, even though several of her messages had included an offer to bring little Mick for a visit.

When he arrived at the house, he found Gram in the kitchen with all of the kids coloring Easter eggs. Though
the room was a disaster and Gram looked harried, her eyes were twinkling when she spotted him. She handed off his son, who clung happily to his neck. The boy’s smile of delight at Connor’s arrival immediately improved his mood.

“Get out of those fancy clothes and come in here to help me,” Gram commanded. “If I’m not careful, I’m going to wind up with my hair dyed pink.”

“It would be beautiful,” Caitlyn told her solemnly.

“We can do mine, too,” Carrie said. “But I want blue.” She danced around. “Don’t you think I’d be beautiful?”

“Gorgeous,” Connor agreed, laughing. He felt lighter than he had in days. His twin nieces, with their unexpected observations and uncensored comments, could lift his spirits in a heartbeat. Spending time with them and the rest of the family was exactly what he’d needed.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised his grandmother.

Taking little Mick with him, he changed into an old T-shirt and a pair of cutoff jeans, then hurried back to the kitchen and settled his son in a high chair.

“How’d you get roped into doing this?” he asked Gram.

“Everyone’s working today,” she explained. “It’s a busy weekend in town, so Shanna, Heather, Bree and your mother are all at their shops. Abby went to help Bree deliver flowers. It seems everybody in the universe is sending an Easter bouquet to someone in Chesapeake Shores this weekend.”

“Where’s Dad?”

“Mick took one look at the mess in here and mumbled something about checking on one of his Habitat for Humanity sites.” She chuckled. “I’ll have my revenge,
though. Once we’re finished, I can walk off and leave this for him to clean up. That’s the joy of being able to go back to my own place these days. Now, you help your son. He doesn’t quite have the knack for dying eggs, instead of his hands.”

“Help me, too, Uncle Connor,” Davy pleaded.

Henry, who was still adjusting to this boisterous new family of his, stood back, looking on shyly.

Connor plucked three boiled eggs from a basket on the table. “Come on, guys, let a master show you how it’s done. Each of you grab a crayon. We’ll draw on a design first, okay?”

The designs weren’t much, but it hardly mattered. Connor guided little Mick’s tiny fingers as they drew a barely recognizable duck. Davy drew something that looked like Santa, though turned upside down it could have been a bunny. It was impossible to tell and probably risky to ask.

Connor glanced over to check on his other nephew, Kevin’s adopted son. Henry printed his name with careful letters, then thoughtfully did two more eggs for Kevin and Shanna. It hurt Connor’s heart to see how hard the boy was trying to fit in with his new family. All the caution was his. Kevin and Shanna, who’d been Henry’s stepmother in a previous marriage, adored Henry. And Davy was thrilled to have a big brother.

Henry glanced hesitantly at Connor. “Do you think I should do one for my dad, too? I sent him and my grandpa and grandma a card already. Shanna helped me pick it out.”

“If you want to make an egg for your dad, we’ll find a way to get it to him,” Connor promised, trying to imagine
how hard it must be to be separated from his biological family because his father’s alcoholism and failing liver had made it impossible for Henry to remain with him.

Henry’s little face immediately brightened. “Cool!”

In the meantime, Carrie and Caitlyn were drawing elaborate patterns with bright colors, then dipping the eggs into the brightest dyes.

“Ours are best!” Carrie announced, jumping up and down.

“It’s not a contest,” Gram chided.

“That’s right,” Connor told her. “The contest comes tomorrow, when we see who can find the most eggs in the yard.” He tickled his boastful niece. “And I guarantee you I’ll win.”

“You’re too big to play,” Caitlyn said, dodging his attempt to tickle her. “Only kids get to hunt for eggs.”

“Hey, I’m a kid,” Connor protested.

“Are not,” Carrie said, giggling.

“Oh, honey, I’m afraid your uncle Connor is just a big kid,” Gram said sorrowfully. “I haven’t seen a sign of maturity yet.”

“Hey,” he protested.

“I doubt you want me to explain all my reasons for feeling that way,” Gram said, her gaze steady.

Connor sighed. “No need.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“Maybe I’ll get my boy here cleaned up and take him back to his mother,” he said.

“That sounds like a fine idea to me,” Gram said approvingly. “Be sure she’s going to join us for Easter dinner tomorrow after church.”

Connor nodded. Somehow the prospect of issuing
that invitation to a simple family gathering and getting the hoped-for “yes” held more allure than all those endless bar crawls and dates he’d been on for the past few weeks.

And spending a carefree afternoon dying Easter eggs with his son, his nieces and his nephews was a thousand times better than dealing with the Clint Wilders of the world. Apparently, despite Heather’s oft-stated fears, he hadn’t gone so far over to the dark side yet that he couldn’t see that.

D
uring Connor’s absence over the past few weeks, Heather had once again been able to establish a new rhythm for her life and put him out of her mind. Her days were occupied with the store, getting to know her regular customers, even making a few friends among them, and keeping her son out of mischief. Nights were harder, when the darkness settled around her and the brand-new bed she’d purchased felt too big, too empty.

Of course, there were reminders everywhere. For one thing, her son looked exactly like his daddy and his granddaddy, but she’d gotten better and better at keeping the two separate in her head. Little Mick was her life now. Connor was her past. She just needed to keep reminding herself of that. She assured herself she was getting better at it every day.

Unfortunately, though, there was more she couldn’t control. Connor’s family tended to pop up everywhere she turned. It was both a blessing and a curse.

Still, with every day that passed, she felt herself growing stronger, her initially uncertain resolve deepening into
real conviction that she was on the right path with her life. Everything was falling into place just as she’d hoped.

And yet, all it took to change her perspective was one quick, unexpected glimpse of Connor in the doorway of her shop, holding their exhausted son in his arms. Her resolve immediately turned to mush, and her traitorous heart skipped several beats.

Why did the man have to look so darn good, even with his thick hair mussed and his rumpled clothes apparently plucked from the back of his closet, most likely left over from high school? It was one thing for him to turn her head when he was clean-shaven and wearing Armani. It was quite another to have her heart catch when he’d taken zero care with his appearance. It was just one more reminder that it was the man and his charm, not anything else, that had captivated her.

She tried to hide her reaction by turning quickly to one of the students in her newly organized quilting class to answer a question. Bree’s sister-in-law, Connie, and Abby’s sister-in-law, Laila, had been two of the first to sign up for the class, and Heather sensed they were going to become friends well beyond the fact that they were part of the same huge extended O’Brien family. They’d lingered after class with a barrage of questions.

Connie seemed to sense Heather’s sudden distraction, turned and caught sight of Connor in the doorway.

“Well, well, look who’s here,” she taunted, then started laughing as Connor actually came inside. “Looks as if somebody got more Easter egg dye on himself than on the eggs.”

Heather followed the direction of her gaze and noted that Connor’s T-shirt did indeed look as if it had been tie
dyed by an amateur…or a pair of tiny hands. There was a streak of bright blue dye on his cheek, too. His hair, normally carefully groomed, stood up in spikes with the occasional wayward curl. Once more she noted that he looked charmingly rumpled and devastatingly sexy.

“Happy Easter, Connor,” Laila said, then grinned. “I wish somebody would tuck a man like you in my Easter basket tomorrow morning.”

Connie nudged her in the ribs. “Watch it! He’s taken.” She cast a warning look in Heather’s direction.

“Actually, he’s not,” Heather said mildly, taking her son from his arms.

“Hey, I never said I wanted Connor,” Laila protested. “I said I wanted a man
like
him.” A grin spread. “But minus the flaws.”

Heather noted that Connor’s cheeks were flushed, even though he’d obviously known both women for most of his life, was indirectly related to them, and had to be used to their teasing.

“Hey, let’s not be passing me around like some old football, ladies,” he grumbled. “I have feelings. Let’s talk about your love lives for a minute.”

“Sadly, I have none,” Laila said, then brightened. “Maybe you could bring home a couple of your lawyer friends one of these days. We need some hot new blood in this town, right, Connie?”

“That would definitely work for me,” Connie confirmed.

Connor’s gaze landed on Heather. “And you?”

“I know your colleagues,” she said, holding his gaze. “I’m not interested.” She turned to Laila and Connie. “Boring workaholics.”

“Ah, been there, done that,” Laila said with regret. “Well, I’d better take off. I promised Abby and Trace I’d watch the girls tonight so they can have an evening to themselves.”

“And I have to get home before Jenny goes out on her date,” Connie said. “Even though her curfew hasn’t changed in two years, if I don’t repeat it ten times before she leaves the house, she’ll claim she didn’t remember. Then we get to fight over whether she should be grounded for being late.”

“See you next Saturday,” Heather called after them, watching ruefully as they left her alone with Connor.

“Watch it with those two,” Connor told her, a grin tugging at his lips. “They’ll fill your head with all of my youthful misdeeds.”

“I pretty much know everything I need to know about you,” Heather replied. “I doubt they could say anything to sway me for or against.” She studied him curiously. “Did you ever date either one of them?”

His gaze locked with hers. “Would it bother you if I had?” he asked, almost sounding hopeful.

“No, I’m just wondering. They’re both beautiful, intelligent women.”

“They are,” he agreed. “But Connie’s a few years older, and by the time I was dating, she was already pretty serious about the man she eventually married.”

“They’re divorced now,” Heather reminded him.

“A single mother with a teenage daughter’s not going to be interested in me,” he said candidly. “Besides, Jake would beat the living daylights out of me if I led his sister on. Ditto with Trace. He’s very protective of Laila. Both of my brothers-in-law know how I feel about marriage.
They’d definitely object to me getting involved with either of their sisters.”

“You know what I don’t understand,” she said, carrying the now-sleeping Mick into the back room and settling him into his portable playpen, “How can you spend time with Jake and Bree, Trace and Abby, Kevin and Shanna and even your parents, and not see how happy they are?”

“I can’t deny they appear to be happy now,” Connor admitted, surprising her.

“Really?”

Then he had to go and ruin it by adding, “But it won’t last. It never does. Besides, appearances can be deceiving. Look at all the years my folks made each other miserable. The world thought they were just fine, and then it all blew up and my mom walked away.”

“And yet somehow you thought you and I could go on forever, as long as we didn’t legalize it,” she said. “Can’t you see how absurd that is?”

“Maybe it doesn’t make any sense to you, but I can’t change how I feel,” he said defensively. This time he put a halt to the topic. “Look, Gram wanted me to be sure you’re coming for Easter dinner tomorrow. Will you be there?”

Heather thought of how wonderful it felt being part of that big, rambunctious family, especially on holidays, but it was wrong. She wasn’t an O’Brien, and keeping up the pretense that she was hurt too much. She’d learned that on Connor’s prior visit.

“I think tomorrow little Mick and I will spend Easter on our own,” she said.

Connor’s gaze narrowed. “Because of me,” he guessed.
“Look, please don’t stay away and keep little Mick from being there to hunt for eggs with his cousins. If it’ll make you more comfortable, I’ll go back to Baltimore in the morning. No one was expecting me to be here this weekend, anyway. It won’t be a big deal if I take off.”

“Absolutely not. This is your family, and you should spend the holiday with them. I’m the one who doesn’t belong.”

“That’s not true,” he argued. “You’ve come to mean a lot to all of them, especially my parents. And our son should be there.”

He held her gaze. “Please, Heather. Don’t let me chase you away.”

She sighed and relented, though not without real regret. Every time she saw him, it was now clear it was going to reopen old wounds. “Okay, we’ll come as long as we don’t chase you away, either.”

Connor regarded her with relief. “Fine. I’ll be there, too.” He pulled a stool over to the counter, sat down and studied her with an intense expression. “You know what I don’t get?”

She regarded him with amusement. “What’s that?”

“We were together for years. I thought we knew each other inside out, that we could talk about anything. Now we can barely be in the same room without things turning awkward.”

“That’s what happens when people break up, Connor. Some manage to reestablish the relationship on new ground. Others don’t. Even the ones who pull off becoming friends take some time to do it. Can you imagine some of the couples whose divorces you’ve handled sitting down for a holiday meal with the whole family?”

“Not a chance,” he admitted with a rueful grin. “Right now, for instance, I’m handling the Clint Wilder divorce. I’m not sure
I’d
want to have a meal with him. I can’t even imagine how his wife must feel.”

Heather regarded him with shock. “You actually recognize that she has a right to be furious about what he did?”

“Well, of course I do.”

“And yet from what I read in the paper, you seem to think she’s going to get very little in the divorce settlement.”

“You’re following the tabloids?” he asked, looking startled. “That’s not your usual reading material.”

She shrugged. “I couldn’t miss it when I was standing in line at the checkout counter. A very compromising picture of Wilder and the other woman was splashed all over the front page. I recognized the name and had a feeling you’d be involved since he’s been living in Baltimore.”

His lips curved into a satisfied smile. “You checked it out because of me?”

“Don’t let it go to your head. Of course I was curious.” The truth was, a feeling of dread had settled over her when she’d looked for Connor’s name in the article. Finding him linked to the messy divorce was one more depressing example of the kind of choices Connor was making in his career, the sort of people by whom he was surrounded.

“And you don’t approve?” he said, his tone suddenly flat.

“It’s not up to me to approve or disapprove,” she said.

“But you do have an opinion, and I’m sure I can guess what it is. You think I’m working for one more sleazy guy
who’s trying to get out of a marriage without paying for the consequences of his actions.”

She saw no reason to deny it. “Aren’t you?”

“Heather, you’re not my conscience,” he retorted.

“Believe me, I know that. Didn’t I just say it wasn’t up to me to approve or disapprove?”

He sighed. “And yet your opinion still matters to me,” he admitted. As if he hated having made the admission, he held up his hands to ward off a response. “I’d better take off now. Gram wants my help tonight. She’s cooking a ham down at her cottage and she wants me to carry it up to the house.”

Heather considered trying to stop him, trying to make him understand her point of view, but she knew it was pointless. They’d had the same conversation too many times before and it almost always ended the same way…in a bitter standoff. Even when she thought she’d gotten through to him, his choices proved she’d wasted her breath.

“See you tomorrow, then,” she said, instead.

As soon as he’d gone, she locked the shop door behind him, then gathered up little Mick and took him upstairs to their apartment to face another lonely evening. It didn’t help knowing that it didn’t have to be this way. If only she were willing to compromise on what she wanted, she could be with Connor tonight and every night for the foreseeable future.

As tempting as that was, though, she knew it would never be enough without a real commitment for a lifetime. And she simply had to accept that such a commitment was something he was incapable of making.

An hour later, Heather had fed little Mick and put him down for the night when her phone rang. To her surprise, it was Connie.

“I hope I didn’t wake your son,” she said. “I was sitting here feeling sorry for myself now that Jenny’s out of the house for the evening, and thought you might be feeling a little blue, too. Bumping into Connor all the time can’t be easy.”

“It’s awful,” Heather said at once, then sighed. “And wonderful.”

“Oh, sweetie—do I remember what that’s like!” Connie said sympathetically. “When Jenny’s dad and I first split up, it was some kind of torture every time I saw him at the gas station or in the grocery store. It does get better, I promise. Of course, in my case, it helped that he eventually moved to Michigan, where now, if God is truly good, he is freezing his butt off at least ten months of the year and thoroughly miserable.”

“Not that you give a hoot,” Heather said with a laugh.

“Not even a tiny one,” Connie said. “I really called to see if you’d like to grab a pizza or something. I can come over there if you don’t want to wake little Mick and bring him out.”

“I would love the company,” Heather said at once, relieved not to be facing another lonely night. “I’ll call and order the pizza.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll pick it up on my way. Do you have sodas or wine, or should I get that, too?”

“I have diet sodas, but no wine.”

“That works for me. See you soon.”

Heather started straightening up her apartment, only
to have the phone ring again. It turned out to be Bree, Connie’s sister-in-law and Connor’s sister.

“What are you up to?” Bree asked. “I know Connor’s in town, so I thought you might need cheering up.”

“I see the family grapevine is alive and well,” Heather said wryly. The O’Brien grapevine worked faster than the internet.

“Of course. Truthfully, though, I was looking for something to do. Jake’s painting the nursery tonight, and he doesn’t want me breathing in the paint fumes. I swear, it’s a good thing this baby is due in less than a month, because I’m not sure how much longer I can handle the way he hovers over me.”

Heather chuckled. “I think it’s sweet. You should have seen your brother when I was pregnant with our baby. Even though he was swamped with work he’d bring home from the office, I’d catch him staring at me as if he was afraid my belly was going to pop open. And the night I actually did go into labor, he was such a wreck I almost had to drive myself to the hospital.”