Although he and Megan had seen each other only a few times in Chesapeake Shores, it had been enough to convince Mick of the cost of clinging to his own stupid pride. Years ago that stubborn pride had kicked in and kept him from begging Megan to stay. Now, sensing that they might have another chance, he wasn’t going to let anything stand in the way of his reaching out.
Except maybe fear, he thought with chagrin as he sipped his coffee and stared at the cell phone lying on the scarred, Formica-topped table in this noisy, busy neighborhood eatery.
Maybe it would be easier if he just showed up on her doorstep. Megan was too much of a lady to slam the door in his face, while she might find it a whole lot easier to hang up on him.
He was so busy contemplating his strategy that he jumped like some scared teenager when the cell phone rang.
“Yes, hello,” he muttered, embarrassed even though the person on the other end of the line couldn’t possibly know how idiotic he felt.
“Have you seen her yet?” his mother demanded.
Mick frowned. How was it that Nell O’Brien always knew what he was up to, even when he’d been very careful to keep this trip to New York a secret from everyone in his family? He’d seen no point in stirring up speculation—or a storm of objections, for that matter—when he had no idea how things between him and Megan were likely to go.
He’d detoured to New York on his way back from business meetings in Seattle and Minneapolis, thinking that if he made a damn fool of himself, no one would have to know about it. Now here was his mother, with that second sight of hers, guessing exactly what he was planning.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said defensively, hoping Nell had simply taken a lucky guess.
“You’re in New York to see Megan, aren’t you?” she declared with conviction.
“What gave you that idea?” Even as he spoke, he could imagine her rolling her eyes at his response. She’d never liked wasting time stating the obvious.
“Your office said you flew to New York this morning after you finished up your meetings in Minnesota. Since you haven’t set foot in that city since the day Megan moved up there, and since you’ve been mooning around here ever since she left after the opening at the inn, I put two and two together.”
“Well, your math skills are lousy,” he claimed. “I haven’t seen her.”
She laughed at that. “That can only mean you’ve chickened out now that you’re there. You’re probably sitting in some bar trying to work up the courage to see her.”
“I’m not in a damn bar,” he muttered. Saints protect him from a mother who’d always been able to read him like a book. “And I have not chickened out. Did you track me down just to hassle me, or was there something else on your mind?”
“I had something else on my mind, but now I’m thinking we should be talking about whether you have any idea what you’re doing. You and Megan have been divorced for years. She left because you neglected her and this family and didn’t change your ways when she called you on it. You know I love you, but I don’t see how any of that has changed. You still spend more time away than you do with your family.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, my family has pretty much scattered.”
“And in case you haven’t noticed, one by one they seem to be turning up again,” she retorted. “Yet you’re still running from one job to the next.”
“Maybe I’m ready to slow down,” he said, testing the idea on himself as much as her.
“Retire? You?” she asked, her tone incredulous. “I don’t believe that for a minute.”
“I didn’t mention retirement,” he retorted irritably. “I said I might be ready to slow down.”
“Maybe? Might? Seems to me you ought to be sure about a thing like that before you go getting that woman’s hopes up, then turn right around and dash them again.”
Much to his dismay, he conceded to himself that she had a point. Not that he intended to admit it aloud. “Look, I have things to do. Just tell me why you called.”
Apparently she realized that his patience had worn thin, because she actually answered the question, rather than launching a full-scale lecture or asking more questions of her own.
“I called because I’m worried about Bree,” she told him.
“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.
“We’ll go to Brady’s,” Mack said, throwing a commiserating arm across his shoulders. “And then we’ll beat some sense into you.”
2
B ree heard what sounded like a collective sigh being released and looked up to find herself the object of a roomful of staring customers and to see Sally regarding her with an oddly disapproving expression.
“What’s going on?” Bree asked.
“You didn’t see him?” Sally asked.
“See who?”
“Jake.”
Bree felt as if someone had slugged her in the stomach. “Jake was here?”
“For about two seconds. Took one look at you and flew right back out the door. Took two more of my best customers with him.”
“Oh, God, I had no idea. I thought…” Her voice trailed off. She had no idea what she’d thought. For six years she’d tried not to let a single thought about Jake creep into her head. When it did, usually when her defenses were down and she felt most vulnerable, it left her feeling raw and guilty, even though she’d done nothing wrong. As soon as that thought crossed her mind, she winced at the lie. If she were being totally honest, she’d done plenty wrong.
Glancing up at Sally and trying to gather her composure, Bree said, “I…I…” She couldn’t seem to think straight. The order she’d planned had flown right out of her head with Sally’s mention of Jake. “Can I have another minute, please? Whatever I get, I’ll make it takeout so I won’t tie up the booth. I just need to sit here for a couple of minutes, okay?”
Sally nodded, her expression more sympathetic. “I’ll be back.”
As soon as Sally was gone, rather than glancing at the menu again as she’d promised, Bree’s thoughts spun right back to Jake and the tragic way their relationship had eventually fallen apart.
Sure, what had happened was just one of those things. Losing a baby—one she’d told no one except Jake that she was carrying—should have drawn them closer. Most couples pulled together after a tragedy like that.
Instead, Bree had taken it as a sign that they weren’t meant to be. She’d seized on the miscarriage as an excuse to flee to Chicago and go after the future that had seemed so elusive just a few days earlier.
Jake’s reaction had been exactly the opposite. Ecstatic about the unexpected pregnancy, he had been talking about a wedding, a family and the future with such high hopes and excitement. As much as she’d loved him and hoped for that same future eventually, rather than sharing his joy, she’d felt miserable and, far worse, trapped.
And then, almost before she’d had time to grapple with the idea that she was pregnant, the baby was gone and, God help her, she’d felt free. She’d taken off for Chicago and the job awaiting her there without a backward glance, leaving Jake alone to mourn not only the loss of their child, but of her and all the dreams he’d spun.
Oh, they’d gone through the pretense of staying in touch at first, even occasionally talking about the future, but it had quickly been
clear to Bree that the relationship was over. She’d struggled for weeks trying to think of the kindest way to say that to Jake.
In the end, he’d figured it out for himself after surprising her in Chicago one weekend and discovering her sequestered in her tiny apartment with Marty. There’d been nothing going on, but obviously Jake had felt the chemistry between her and the famed playwright. Ironically he’d known before she had admitted it to herself that she was falling in love with the charming, charismatic older man.
That’s what they’d fought about, the excuse he’d used for breaking up. And once again, despite the quick and painful stab of guilt she’d experienced, all Bree had felt was relief that she hadn’t been the one to end things. She’d even convinced herself that allowing Jake to be the one to break up was her final gift to him. For a woman who prided herself on being insightful about human nature, somehow she’d been delusional about that. What she’d been was cowardly.
She had treated him so badly. She could admit that now. Jake was a wonderful, sexy, amazing guy, and maybe they could have made things work, but she’d felt relieved that she hadn’t had to find out. She’d known deep down that she would have come to resent him if she hadn’t had a chance to find out what she was made of as a playwright. She’d needed that chance to work with a respected regional theater, to be mentored by someone like Martin Demming. It was all she’d dreamed about from the first time she’d seen a play onstage and put her own words and characters down on paper.
Sally returned, cutting into her thoughts. “Have you decided yet?”
“The special’s fine,” Bree said, though she had no idea what it was. Her appetite had fled anyway, so it hardly mattered.
Flowers on Main Page 2
