Flowers on Main

“Bree?” he asked, startled. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Men!” Nell muttered, her tone disparaging. “Mick, she’s your daughter. Didn’t you notice how quiet she’s been ever since she got here? For that matter, haven’t you wondered what she’s still doing here?”

“Bree’s always been quiet,” he said, genuinely puzzled by his mother’s observation. She’d always been happiest locked away in her room with a pad of paper or a book. Of all of his children, she was the one he’d understood the least. She’d never had the outgoing nature of her siblings. Nor had she suffered from the usual teenage highs and lows—or if she had, she’d channeled that into the writing she hid from everyone in the family.

“This is different,” his mother insisted. “And she hasn’t said a single word about going back to Chicago. Something’s happened, Mick, I just know it. I tried to talk to her earlier, but she told me she was fine.”

“Then maybe she is.”

“She is not fine. You need to stop worrying about the past and get back home to deal with your daughter. She needs you.”

“No,” he said at once. “If Bree needs anyone, it’s you. You’ve always understood her better than I have. Come on, Ma, you know I’m right. If you can’t get her to open up, then there’s not a chance in hell I’ll be able to.”

“Well, this time I think maybe she needs all of us.”

He frowned at Nell’s somber tone. “Ma, what exactly do you think happened to her? If that jerk did something …” He let his voice trail off. He’d never liked Martin Demming. He was too old for Bree for one thing, and an arrogant son of a gun for another. Mick had heard a few too many condescending remarks directed at Bree. It had taken every ounce of restraint he possessed not to tell the man off the last time Mick had been to Chicago. Only a plaintive look from Bree had kept him silent. It had made his heart ache to see his sensitive daughter listen to that demeaning nonsense without fighting back.

Nell interrupted his thoughts. “I don’t know if this has anything to do with Martin Demming or if it’s about her work.

That’s my point. We need to find out what has her so upset. When are you coming home?”

“That depends,” he said, still thinking about his mission to see Megan again.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she said impatiently. “Either call Megan the minute we hang up or get on a plane and come home. You’re needed here.”

“I’ll be there first thing tomorrow,” he promised.

Heck, if things went well, maybe he’d even convince Megan to come back to Chesapeake Shores for another visit. If Bree really was in some sort of trouble, having her mother around certainly couldn’t hurt. In fact, it might be just what she needed.

He sighed even as the manipulative thought occurred to him. Who was he kidding? He was the one who needed Megan at home again. Always had. If a crisis with their middle daughter gave him the perfect excuse to get her there, he wasn’t too proud to take advantage of it. There’d be plenty of time to regret his tactics later … but only if they didn’t work.

The back booth at Sally’s all but had a Reserved sign sitting on it. Every day, right at noon, Jake Collins, Mack Franklin and Will Lincoln sat in that booth and ordered the day’s special. Today it was ham and cheese on a croissant with potato salad, Jake noted as he glanced at the chalkboard behind the counter on his way to the booth. When he got there, he stopped short. He wasn’t sure which shocked him more, that it was already occupied or that the person whose face was buried in the menu was Bree O’Brien.

It took less than a heartbeat for him to note that her bare shoulders were pink from the sun, that she wore the turquoise sundress that had always been a favorite of his, that she looked exhausted.

Before any of that could really sink in, he wheeled around and bumped straight into Mack, then brushed past him without stopping.

“Where are you going?” Mack demanded.

“Let’s go to Brady’s for lunch,” Jake said in a clipped, urgent undertone as he paused just long enough to give Mack a hard look that begged him to stop asking questions.

Mack stared at him blankly, obviously not picking up on Jake’s signal. “Why?”

“Because I’m in the mood for a crab-cake sandwich and a beer,” Jake said impatiently, weaving past three women blocking the aisle.

He didn’t wait to see if Mack followed but headed right back out onto the street, where he stopped and sucked in a deep breath. Damn, that woman should not be able to get to him like this, not after six years. And she’d done it without even once looking him in the eye or opening her mouth. It was pitiful. He was pitiful. Why should it matter to him that she looked as if she hadn’t slept in a week?

“Would you mind telling me why you’re both out here?” Will asked when he came upon them standing on the sidewalk in the blazing late-July heat. His crisply ironed sport shirt was wilting and he’d tugged off his tie. He was clearly anxious to get inside in air-conditioning.

“I have no idea,” Mack responded with a shrug. “Jake’s apparently developed a sudden craving for a crab cake.”

When Jake met Will’s gaze, he saw the knowing amusement in his friend’s eyes. That was the problem with hanging out with the same bunch of guys since elementary school. None of them had one damn secret from the others. Will, with his Ph.D. in psychology, was capable of guessing the source of Jake’s suddenly skittish mood.

Will sighed. “I was wondering when he was going to find out that Bree’s in town.”

Mack looked momentarily surprised, then nodded. “Just now apparently.”

“It took longer than I expected,” Will said.

Jake stared at them. “You knew Bree was here and didn’t warn me?”

“I’d heard,” Will admitted.

“Me, too,” Mack said, looking chagrined. “We figured she’d be gone before the two of you crossed paths.”

“How’d she look?” Will asked, his gaze on Mack rather than Jake.

Mack shrugged. “Jake was blocking my view.”

“Well, it’s probably better that Jake finally got a glimpse of her,” Will said thoughtfully. “It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“Absolutely. Her family’s here,” Mack added. “It’s not like she’d stay away forever.”

“Would you two stop talking as if I’m not here,” Jake grumbled. “This isn’t about Bree O’Brien. I just decided I’m in the mood for a crab-cake sandwich. That’s it.”

“Last time I checked, Sally made a halfway-decent crab-cake sandwich,” Will remarked, calling him on the blatant lie.

“Hardly anyplace around here that doesn’t,” Mack agreed.

Jake tired of their amusement at his expense. “Oh, give it a rest,” he grumbled. “If you want to eat here, we’ll eat here. I just thought it would be good to try someplace different. We’re in a rut.”

“And you realized that not five minutes ago?” Will inquired skeptically. “We’ve been in the same rut for five years.”

“Six,” Jake muttered. “It’s been six years.”

The three of them had started eating lunch together every day right after Bree had left Chesapeake Shores. It had been Will and Mack’s halfhearted attempt to boost Jake’s spirits, even though they weren’t a hundred percent certain what had happened between Jake and Bree. The couple had broken up, that much Jake’s friends knew, and also that Jake was hurting. That was all that had mattered.

His buddies had rallied around him, being supportive in the only way guys knew how, by hanging out with him and trying to keep him distracted, and by not mentioning the source of his discontent unless he brought her up first. Which he hadn’t. Today was one of the few times in all these years that Bree’s name had even crossed his lips.

Good friends that they were and happily single, Will and Mack had also dragged Jake out regularly for happy hour and tried to interest him in other women. More often than not, they were the ones who met someone attractive and left with her, while Jake went home alone to his empty bed and dark thoughts. He’d gotten used to the pattern and to the loneliness. It was pitiful, all right, but it was the life he had.

And it beat the pain he’d felt when Bree had left. He wasn’t going through anything like that again, even if he wound up living like a hermit for the rest of his days, which his sister, Connie, told him regularly he was in grave danger of doing.

“Maybe it’s a good sign,” Will speculated, his expression thoughtful. “Him wanting to shake things up finally.”

“Could be,” Mack agreed.

The two men exchanged a look, then turned toward Mack’s SUV, which was parked closer than Will’s fancy foreign sports car or Jake’s bright green Shores Nursery and Landscaping truck.