Flowers on Main

Megan’s eyes filled with tears at the sincerity she heard in those words. “You have no idea how much it means to me to have you say that. I miss you, Nell. I really do.”

“Then you’ll pay us a visit soon. Now, here’s Bree.”

There was a pause and then Bree came on the line, her voice cool and clipped. “Hello, Mother.”

“How are you?” Megan asked, treading carefully. If she plunged right in with too many questions, she knew how quickly Bree was likely to end the call. There’d been too many other conversations over the years that hadn’t lasted past the pleasantries.

“Fine,” Bree said, her tone unyielding.

“Are you enjoying your time in Chesapeake Shores?”

“Sure. It feels good to be home.”

“How much longer do you think you’ll be there?”

“Actually I’m home for good,” Bree said. “Look, Mother, I’m really busy, so unless there’s something specific on your mind, I need to go.”

Bree’s calm announcement that she was staying in Chesapeake Shores stirred a hundred questions, none of which her daughter was likely to answer in a hurried phone call.

“I’ll let you go then,” Megan said reluctantly, then added,

“Bree, if you’re not going back to Chicago right away, you could come to New York for a visit.” She warmed to the idea. “We could see some plays together. I know how much the theater means to you. It would be fun.”

“Sorry, I don’t have the time right now,” Bree said, slamming the door on the idea. “Goodbye, Mother.”

She cut off the call before Megan could attempt to persuade her to make the trip or even to say goodbye. The abrupt and unsatisfying conversation wasn’t really unexpected, just disappointing.

It did accomplish one thing, though. Despite the fact that she was hardly an expert on Bree’s moods these days, even she could tell there was something wrong, and it was more than a lack of desire to chat with her mother. So, Mick and Nell had been right to be worried. She was, as well. Maybe time and her actions had stripped her of the right to her anxiety, but it was there just the same.

Her first priority when she arrived at her job at the gallery where she’d been working for the past fifteen years was to arrange for some time off. Once again, she’d be making a trip to Chesapeake Shores. Since the visit for the opening of Jess’s inn had broken the ice for these recent drop-ins, the prospect didn’t scare the living daylights out of her the way that one had.

The prospect of seeing Mick, however, did send a shiver down her spine. Fear? Anticipation? It was getting harder and harder to tell.

Bree carefully replaced the receiver after speaking to her mother and would have walked right out of the kitchen if Gram hadn’t ordered her to sit.

“I’ve poured you a cup of tea, and there are fresh orange-cranberry scones on the stove,” Gram said as she gestured toward a seat at the table.

Bree hesitated, wanting to bolt, but mostly wanting to avoid a discussion about her mother. “I really need to get over to the shop. There are a million plans that have to be made.” After doing just a few days of research, she was already starting to feel a little overwhelmed by how much she didn’t know.

“Your plans can wait a few extra minutes,” Gram said. “I know I won’t be able to talk you into the kind of breakfast you should have, but you can stay long enough to share a cup of tea and some conversation with me.”

“I don’t mind the tea,” Bree replied. “It’s the conversation I’d rather not have.”

“Now, that’s a fine thing to be saying to your grandmother,” Gram said, lapsing into an Irish lilt that came mostly from being raised in a home with two parents who’d come over straight from Dublin. Gram herself had grown up right here in Maryland.

“Sorry,” Bree apologized. “I just don’t want to talk about Mother.”

“You were rude to her just now,” Gram chided.

“I don’t know how else to be with her. She left us years ago. Am I supposed to forget that?”

“Of course not, but you seem to have forgotten that she tried repeatedly to get you to New York, either to stay or for a visit. You refused and your father allowed you to get away with that.” Gram gave her a penetrating look. “You know, of all of you children, you’re the one I would have thought would jump at the chance to go to New York. Isn’t that the ideal place for an aspiring playwright to be? Yet, when the time came, you went off to Chicago. You settled for regional theater, rather than taking your mother up on her offer to let you stay with her while you studied with some of the country’s best playwrights. Did you hate her more than you wanted your dream?”

Bree hesitated before answering. She’d never hated her mother, not really. She’d been as angry as the rest of them, but the truth was, Megan’s absence had caused hardly more than a blip in Bree’s life. Whatever pain she’d felt had been channeled into her writing. It was one of those life experiences a good writer could weave into a story.

“I had an offer to study in Chicago,” she said eventually, defending her decision to take the internship with Marty. “Something concrete.”

“So it was safety you were after?” Gram asked, her tone skeptical. “And New York would have been a risk?”

“Something like that,” Bree said. Risks were something the rest of the family craved. She preferred predictability.

“Okay, then,” Gram said. “Let me ask you one last thing, and then I’ll let the subject drop. Was the real risk that you wouldn’t be able to make it in New York? Or that you’d get close to Megan and find your heart broken again?” Her gaze met Bree’s and held. “Or were you really afraid you’d finally have to let go of all that anger that had been bottled up inside for so many years?”

Tears stung her eyes. Her grandmother knew her so well. Better than anyone else. Even now she didn’t wait for Bree’s answer.

“You can deny the anger all you like, but keep in mind that anger can become its own driving force,” Nell told her. “It’s not healthy, child. You have to let it go, or it will eat you alive and ruin your life. What Megan did all those years ago was wrong. You can decide it’s unforgivable and go right on hating her, or you can reach out and accept the olive branch she’s been offering. I think you’ll be happier in the long run if that’s what you do, but it’s your decision. Just make sure you understand the consequences—not for her, but for you—before you drive her out of your life forever.”

Bree frowned at the advice. “Why should I make it easy for her?” she asked bitterly.

“You don’t have to,” Gram said mildly. “But I can see which way the wind is blowing around here. I think she and your father are making peace. She’s become a part of Abby’s life already, and she’s reached out to Jess, you and Connor now. If you reject her out of spite, you could wake one day and find yourself on the outside.” She touched Bree’s hand. “I don’t want that for you. For all your stubborn O’Brien independence, I think you need family, perhaps even more than the rest of us.”

Bree didn’t want to admit Gram might be right. She certainly didn’t want to confess how disturbing she found the prospect of everyone else reuniting and leaving her behind.

“I’ll think about what you said,” she promised eventually. Standing, she bent over and kissed Gram on the cheek. “Love you.”

Gram’s hand found hers and squeezed. “And I you. Never, ever forget that.”

Bree left the kitchen with a lot on her mind, troubling thoughts she didn’t especially want to deal with. Thankfully, though, she had a long, long list of things to do. Maybe that would drive all those dark thoughts right out of her mind.

“No, no, no,” Bree muttered a few hours later as she hung up the phone. Why hadn’t she made this one call before she’d gone off and signed a lease to open a flower shop? It wasn’t like she could back out now. There were too many people—okay, Abby mostly—awaiting her failure for that to be an option.

“What’s the problem?” Jess asked, regarding her with concern.

Bree had set up a temporary office at the inn, while the painters and Mick were working on the shop. As much as she’d wanted to spend the extra time with her father, the noise level made it impossible to make all the phone calls that needed to be made. She could have made them at home, but this was better. It gave her a few hours a day with Jess, and she’d discovered she liked having someone around with whom she could discuss ideas for the business. Jess had learned a lot about starting something new, had made more than her share of mistakes along the way. She wouldn’t judge Bree for making a few, as well.

“This day just keeps getting better and better,” she muttered. “First I had to deal with Mom.”

Jess’s eyes widened. “You talked to Mother?”

Bree nodded. “She called the house.”

“For you or Dad?”

Bree hesitated. “Me, I think. At least Gram handed the phone to me the second I walked into the kitchen.” Thinking about what Gram had said earlier, she frowned at her sister. “Do you really think she and Dad could patch things up?”

“If you’d asked me that a few months ago, I’d have said hell would freeze over first, but after seeing them together the night of the opening party here, I honestly don’t know. Anything’s possible.”

“How do you feel about that?” Bree asked her.