The Summer Garden

“I believe I know the difference,” he said, his expression amused.

“Well, what do I do then? Leave?”

“And give the man the satisfaction of having run you off on your very first trip to America?” he asked incredulously. “That’s surely not the Moira I know.”

She laughed. “No, it’s surely not,” she said. “I’m letting myself be defeated before I even know whether there’s to be a fight.” She sobered and looked into her grandfather’s eyes. “Does love make all of us just a little crazy?”

“You wouldn’t be the first to lose sight of who you truly are,” he admitted. “But I’ll be right there to remind you. I doubt you’ll stay lost for long. Keep in mind the woman that Luke chose to spend all that time with during his stay in Ireland. She captured his fancy. I feel certain she’ll do so again.”

Moira wished she were as confident of that. She was already in her twenties, but she swore that sometimes she felt as if she were no more than an unsophisticated sixteen-year-old country girl. That had never been more true than when she’d gotten a glimpse of the older woman who’d flown over to Ireland to be with Luke for a few days right after the family had left.

Luke had readily explained who Kristen was, explained how they’d come to be together and dismissed any notion that she meant anything to him. Moira had accepted his explanation because it was what she’d wanted to believe. What if things had changed now that he was back on Kristen’s turf? That was something else she had to worry about as she counted down the days till her flight.

At this rate she was going to be a complete basket case before she landed on American soil.

Luke was up to his elbows in flour, and making a real mess of things in Gram’s kitchen when his brother walked in. Matthew, blast him, burst out laughing.

“Oh, how I wish I had a camera right now,” Matthew said. “This is a picture that needs to hang above the bar at O’Brien’s once the doors open.” His expression brightened. “Aha, look what I have.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and snapped away.

“Bite me,” Luke said.

“Watch your tongue, young man,” Gram said, then turned to Matthew. “And if you don’t intend to be helpful, you can leave.”

Matthew regarded her with shock. “You’d kick me out? You’ve never thrown me out of your house before, no matter how badly I misbehaved.”

“You’re all grown up now and should know better than to tease your brother,” she scolded.

“But giving Luke grief makes my life so much more enjoyable,” Matthew said.

“Let him stay,” Luke said as he tried to work the dough into the proper consistency for the scones his grandmother claimed were a necessity if he was to offer afternoon tea. He scowled at her now. “Are you absolutely certain I need to bake scones?”

“Afternoon tea is a ritual that will appeal to a lot of the women in town,” she replied. “You want to draw the largest possible customer base, don’t you? And everyone in Chesapeake Shores knows I make the best scones. They sell out at every bake sale and church bazaar. Yours need to reflect my teaching so you don’t embarrass me.”

He sighed and kept kneading, then glanced at his brother, who still hadn’t wiped the amused expression off his face as he busily emailed the pictures to the family grapevine. “Why are you here, aside from a desire to torment me?”

“I wanted to let you know that the shipping company called. The bar will be here day after tomorrow.”

Luke stilled. “Will we be ready to install it?”

Matthew shook his head. “I’m trying to stall them for at least another couple of days. If the piece is as old as you say, we don’t want it getting damaged while we’re still under construction.”

“What did they say?”

“They’ll try to work with us, but they say it’s huge and they’ll need to send it when they have the right truck available.” He gave Luke a concerned look. “Did you actually measure it?”

Luke stilled. “Not exactly.”

“You either did or you didn’t,” Matthew said impatiently. “Listening to this guy talk, I got the impression of really, really big. That’s not a size that’s going to fit across the back of the room.”

“It’ll fit,” Luke said grimly. “It has to.”

“I’d feel better if you had the measurements to back that up.”

“Then I’ll drive to the port in Baltimore and get them,” Luke said grimly, heading for the sink to wash his sticky, flour-coated hands.

Gram gestured for him to return to the task at hand, then turned a pointed look on his brother. “Or Matthew could call this man back and ask him to take the measurements,” she said, then added, “Since you’re so worried about it, shouldn’t you have asked when you had him on the phone?”

Matthew leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “You always took Luke’s side over mine. It’s because he’s the youngest, isn’t it? You love him best.”

Gram rolled her eyes. “Nonsense, and I am not taking anyone’s side. I’m just trying to get these scones made so they’re edible. Right now your brother is trying to pound that dough into submission.”

Luke sighed. “I think baking may be beyond me, Gram.”

“Nothing is beyond you,” she insisted. “Start over.”

Luke stared at her. “You want me to start from scratch?”

“Only way I know to learn,” she said blithely. “Matthew, if you intend to stick around, put on an apron and get busy. It wouldn’t hurt you to learn how to make something. You never know when Luke will need backup in the kitchen. In this family we pull together in a crisis, no matter what kind it is.”

“But that’s why he has you,” Matthew protested, already heading for the door. “Love you, Gram. Good luck with those scones, Luke. I’ll go make that call.”

Luke wished he had the nerve to go after his brother, but he was the one who’d asked for these cooking lessons. Gram clearly intended to see that he was a master Irish chef before she was through with him. He gave her a plaintive look now.

“Isn’t there some way to salvage this dough?” he asked.

She shook her head. “It’ll be too tough. Bake up a few and compare them. You’ll see what I mean.” She picked up a catalog that had come in the mail and fanned herself.

Luke regarded her worriedly. “Are you okay?”

“Just a little warm,” she said, her breath hitching slightly, as if she couldn’t quite catch it. “It’s sitting in here with the oven on. I should have opened the windows first.”

“I’ll do it,” Luke said at once, then took another look at her flushed cheeks. “Are you sure that’s all it is, Gram? You seem a little short of breath.”

She gave him a defiant look. “Don’t be ridiculous. Now get back to work. I don’t have all day to spend on this. I have preparations of my own to make. There will be a crowd here in a few days to welcome Dillon to town. I want to get most of the food done early, so I’ll be able to relax and enjoy the party.”

“You know everyone would be happy to pitch in and help,” he protested. “Don’t wear yourself out.”

“We both know there’s not another soul in this family who cooks as well as I do,” she countered. “And I won’t have Jess asking Gail at the inn to cater a meal for us, not on Dillon’s first night in town.” She gave him a wry look. “And though you’re improving, you’re not up to the task yet, either.”

Luke smiled at her. “You’re really looking forward to his visit, aren’t you?”

This time he had the feeling that the blush in her cheeks had nothing to do with being overheated. “I am,” she admitted. She hesitated, then said, “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course.”

“I’m going to do everything in my power to convince him to stay right here,” she said, defiant sparks in her eyes. “I imagine Mick will have a thing or two to say about that, but it’s my decision. And Dillon’s, of course.”

Luke knew his own surprise was nothing compared to the tizzy Uncle Mick would have over this news. He tried to tread carefully. “Have you and Dillon already discussed it? I thought the plan was for you both to travel back and forth.”