The Summer Garden

Moira flushed at the praise. “Do you mean that?”

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t,” her mother insisted, then glanced briefly at Peter. “Thank you for encouraging her.” She looked away almost the instant the words were out of her mouth.

“It’s been my pleasure,” Peter said, his gaze on Kiera steady, despite her doing her best to avoid it. “I would have done the same for anyone, but it’s meant more that it was your daughter I was helping.”

The color in her mother’s cheeks heightened at his words. So, Moira thought, her mum wasn’t immune to him, after all.

She slipped out from behind the bar and tucked her arm through her grandfather’s, then steered him away from the others to stand in front of one of the photos. “You haven’t said much.”

“You’ve left me speechless,” he admitted. “I feel as if I know those people, not as I always have, but as if I’ve had a glimpse inside them. This is more than a hobby, Moira. You’ve a talent you should be nurturing.”

Tears stung her eyes. “You have no idea what it means to me to have you say that. I’m almost starting to believe I could make a go of this.”

“Then it’s something you truly want?”

She nodded. “I’ve never allowed myself to believe it could happen. I was always the screwup, the rebellious one, not suited for anything I was learning in school. I talked a bit to Jess O’Brien about that feeling when she was here. She said she’d felt much the same way till she opened her inn.” She met his gaze. “I think, in some ways, it’s the same with Luke and his pub.”

“I think it is,” her grandfather agreed. “If you can understand that and give him the room to mature and grow, I think he’ll do the same for you. You’ll build your future together, one with room for both your gifts.”

Moira looked around the pub at the photos on the walls, noted the way people were admiring them and felt a warm glow of satisfaction, but something else as well. This faint possibility of a career—this hope she was feeling—it was here, in Dublin, while Luke was across the ocean.

As if he’d read her mind, her grandfather smiled at her. “There are people to photograph in America, too,” he said quietly. “If this is what you were meant to do and Luke is the man you’re meant to be with, you’ll find a way. Believe in that.”

Moira nodded, wanted to believe, but over the years there’d been very little reason to have faith in herself. Suddenly the trip that she’d agreed to with one goal was about so much more.

Luke was standing amid wood shavings, drawing in the scent of paint and wondering if he’d been out of his mind to think he could create an Irish pub in barely more than a month. He’d trusted it to his brother and his uncle, but right at the moment all he could detect was chaos. Only the handsome sign that was meant to go above the door out front—O’Brien’s written in the almost traditional raised gold letters against a dark green background—was ready.

The massive bar, the one he’d salvaged from a town in the countryside miles from Dublin, would be delivered tomorrow, assuming he dared to put it into place in this construction zone. It might be better off being left in the alley behind the building. Matthew was still grumbling about the tight fit it was going to be. There’d be barely inches to spare once it was in place across the back of the room. If Luke gained even a few ounces, he’d be squeezing past to make his way to the office in back. Thank goodness the doorway to the kitchen was off to the side. Otherwise, a waiter with a tray would be tempting fate each time he came and went.

For the past three weeks, he’d been in here every minute, working alongside his uncle’s crew, testing the limits of his own skills with a hammer and paintbrush. Even his father had pitched in once or twice, though that help usually came with another well-meant cautionary lecture Luke didn’t especially want to hear.

He was on the phone in the tiny space he’d set aside for an office when he looked up and saw Kristen making her way through the bar. In her spike heels, designer suit and flashing gold-and-diamond jewelry, she looked as out of place in here as he felt at those fancy Baltimore parties she’d dragged him to from time to time.

“You shouldn’t be wandering around in here without a hard hat,” he told her, not entirely glad to see her. She’d made her opinion of “this little project of yours” well-known. She hadn’t been delighted about it. She thought running a bar was beneath him. It was one of the few heated arguments they’d ever had. Usually they discussed nothing else worth fighting about. In Luke’s opinion, the handwriting was on the wall about their future…or lack thereof. Hadn’t he made that clear the last time they’d spoken?

“Since you’re spending all your time here these days, I thought you could show me around,” she said, then took in the room, her expression dubious. “There’s not much to see, is there?”

“It’s coming along,” he said defensively. “I can show you the plans if you’d like to take a look.”

“I’d rather you take me to Brady’s for dinner,” she said.

He shook his head before the words were out of her mouth. “I can’t. Sorry. I have to go to Gram’s tonight. Dillon’s arriving from Ireland, and she expects the family to drop by.”

Kristen looked skeptical. “Will all of you even fit in that little cottage of hers?”

“We’ll fit well enough,” Luke told her.

She watched him intently, obviously waiting for an invitation he had no intention of extending. Eventually, she sighed.

“Still not welcome on O’Brien turf,” she said wryly. “Is that ever likely to change?”

“I don’t know,” he told her candidly. “You did try to break up my sister’s marriage. Susie can hold a grudge with the best of them, and I can promise you there’s no one in the family who’s unlikely to take her side.”

She frowned at his observation. “Then what are we doing, Luke?”

“What we’ve always been doing,” he replied candidly. “Enjoying each other’s company when it suits both of us.”

“What if that’s not enough anymore?”

He’d been wondering the same thing, though for slightly different reasons, he suspected. “We talked about this the other night. It’s time for you to move on. You don’t want more from me, Kristen. You know you don’t.”

She held his gaze, then sighed. “I thought I might.”

“Only because you knew it wasn’t in the cards,” he said with certainty. “Find someone you can fall in love with, someone who won’t have all these obstacles to overcome.”

“You’re the only interesting game in town,” she said, her expression surprisingly sad.

He laughed at that. “You know that’s not true. It was just easier not to look because I was right there. And I think you thought it might make my brother-in-law a little crazy to know we were hooking up. It’s always had more to do with your feelings for Mack than it has with me.”

“You’re wrong about that! It had nothing to do with Mack,” she said, bristling even though they both knew the truth. She stood a little straighter, her pride obviously kicking in. “Okay, then. It’s time to move on.” She gave him a wickedly bold look. “Let me know if you change your mind. I’ll see if I can still fit you into my schedule.”

“I don’t think I’ll count on that,” he said with total sincerity. “I imagine someone will snap you up the second they know you’re available. You just have to get out there and mingle. I could—”

“If you offer to fix me up with someone, I’ll have to kill you now,” she said.

Luke laughed. “Okay, then, no matchmaking. I’m probably no good at it, anyway.”

She stepped closer, leaned in and kissed his cheek. Then she shifted to capture his mouth in a move that normally aroused a sizzle in his bloodstream. Today, though, he seemed to be immune, and she obviously felt it. She sighed as she stepped away.

“Take care, Luke. It’s been fun.”

“It has been,” he agreed, relieved to have it officially over, relieved they were parting with no scenes or recriminations. To his mind, that meant it had never amounted to much to either of them in the first place. This was good.

What he couldn’t explain—or didn’t want to—was why he seemed to have this great big empty hole in his heart. He had a hunch it had more to do with the woman across the ocean than it did with the one who’d just left his arms.

Moira was so excited about being in a country far, far away from her familiar little corner of Ireland that she couldn’t quite decide where to look first. Baltimore’s traffic was no more chaotic than Dublin’s, though it seemed so as they raced along on what seemed to her to be the wrong side of the road. She’d been delighted to know that Mick O’Brien would be escorting Nell to the airport to pick them up. She was sure all the commotion wouldn’t faze such a man in the least. She found Mick and his larger-than-life personality fascinating, albeit slightly intimidating.

Riding in the front with Mick while her grandfather rode in back with Nell, Moira had a million questions, but found she didn’t need to utter a one of them. Mick provided a running commentary as they drove south, eventually making their way onto narrower roads and then to the community of Chesapeake Shores itself. Her first view of the bay, seen at the end of Main Street in a charming downtown, immediately captured her fancy and reminded her of villages back home.

“It’s like home,” she exclaimed with delight. “Yet it has a unique look of its own, brighter and a bit more modern and up-to-date.” She turned to him with amazement. “And you created this, the whole town, from nothing?”

“I did,” Mick confirmed.

“And is it Matthew that I remember is following in your footsteps?”

“One of these days he’ll be even better than I am,” Mick confided, “but don’t tell him I said that.”

She took in everything—Bree O’Brien’s Flowers on Main with its buckets of brilliant bouquets on the sidewalk, the quaint bookstore she learned belonged to Shanna O’Brien, Mick’s daughter-in-law, a boutique called Seaside Gifts and, at the end of the block, a store with a hodgepodge of things for every vacationer called Ethel’s Emporium. They all faced a town green brightened with beds of red tulips and a few stray leftover daffodils from earlier in the spring.