Flowers on Main

by Sherryl Woods

  Annoyed no matter which tactic he was employing, she picked up the phone and dialed the once-familiar number at the house in Maryland. Nell answered on the first ring. Megan could envision her in the kitchen, her morning cup of tea and a freshly baked scone in front of her.

  Oh, how she’d missed those scones and their morning chats when she’d fled to New York. Before that, when Nell had been living in her own small cottage designed by Mick, she’d walked over nearly every day with freshly baked scones for the two of them to share while they talked about anything and everything.

  Nell had been far more than a mother-in-law. She’d been a friend, though the one topic that had been off-limits was Megan’s frustration with Mick’s increasingly long absences. Nell would have understood, but Megan hadn’t felt it fair to drag her into the middle of their problems.

  Instead, she’d wound up leaving Nell to care for her children. It had never been her intention, but she couldn’t help noting the irony in it.

  “Megan!” Nell said, sounding vaguely wary, but definitely not surprised. “How are you?”

  “Doing well, and you?”

  “Never better. I imagine you called to speak to…” Her voice trailed off.

  Megan chuckled at her confusion. “It is a puzzle, isn’t it?” she replied. “It’s not as though I’ve stayed in touch with anyone there in any sort of predictable way.”

  “The truth is, at first I assumed you’d called to speak to Abby, but of course you’d call her on her cell or at the new house or at her office. Is it Mick you’re calling for?”

  “Actually, I wanted to talk to you,” Megan said, deciding to take advantage of the opportunity that had presented itself. She wanted to make amends to this woman who’d always been so kind to her. The overture was long overdue. “We didn’t get much time alone when I was there for the opening of the inn. You were unhappy I’d come, weren’t you?”

  “At first,” Nell admitted in her typically blunt way. “But the visit went smoothly enough. I saw you were making an effort.”

  “I was. I wanted it to be a first step with my children and with you. I know you were furious with me when I divorced Mick and left town.”

  “Not furious,” Nell claimed. “Disappointed, and it was about the children, not me or even my son. I knew as well as anyone why you felt you needed to leave Mick. It saddened me that it had to come to that, but I couldn’t blame you.”

  “Have I ever told you how grateful I am that the children had you?”

  “They should have had their mother,” Nell said fiercely.

  Though the remark stung, Megan agreed with her. “Yes, they should have. And I wanted them here, you do know that, don’t you?” she said, a pleading note in her voice. Nell O’Brien had mattered to her, and she’d always regretted losing that connection along with the rest of her family, to say nothing of losing the older woman’s approval.

  “Seemed to me it was a halfhearted effort at best,” Nell said, not conceding an inch.

  “I can’t deny it looked that way. Somehow I let Mick convince me they were better off with the two of you,” Megan explained. “I didn’t fight him and I should have. Once I was settled here, I should have fought tooth and nail for joint custody at the very least. I know that now, but my visits there were such disasters, no matter how often I came or how hard I tried, it seemed best to let them stay where they were happy.”

  “Children don’t always know what we’re thinking. They only understand our actions,” Nell reminded her.

  “Believe me, I know that. And the message I sent to all of them was that I didn’t care, when that was the furthest thing from the truth.”

  Now that the door had been opened, Megan poured out all the things she’d felt back then. “I loved them so much I couldn’t bring myself to rip them from the life they’d known. I thought visits to me in New York would help make them feel part of my life here, but they were all so angry, none of them wanted to come and, when I insisted, they were sullen. Mick was so sure they’d come around if we gave them time. Instead, it allowed their wounds to fester. They ended up hating me.”

  The explanation—too little and much too late—was received in silence. “Spilt milk,” Nell said eventually. “You and Abby have found a way back to each other. You’ll do the same with the rest of them.”

  “I hope so. And that’s the other reason I was calling. Mick told me there’s something going on with Bree. Do you know anything about that?”

  “A bit, but she just walked into the kitchen. Why don’t I let you speak to her.” Nell’s next words were muffled, but then she said, “You take care of yourself, Megan love. And come back soon for another visit. You’re welcome here anytime.”

  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.

  Jess hesitated, her expression thoughtful. “Weird, I guess.”

  “Me, too,” Bree admitted.

  Jess gave a dramatic shudder. “Let’s not talk about Mom and Dad getting back together. Who was that on the phone just now and what did they say to upset you?”

  “I’ve just discovered that there is one major flower wholesaler close enough to supply the store,” she reported to her sister, not even trying to mask her dismay. This was an unexpected and very unwelcome wrinkle.

  “So what?” Jess asked. “As long as they’re good, you’ll be fine. Are you worried that the prices will be higher because it’s virtually a monopoly or something?”

  “I’m worried because that wholesaler is Jake Collins,” she snapped. “Why didn’t you tell me he now owns Shores Nursery and Landscaping?”

  Jess blinked at her tone. “Hey, don’t jump on me. I thought you knew. He’s worked there forever, even when you were going out.”

  “There’s a huge difference between him working there and owning the place. And as I recall, they didn’t operate as a wholesaler back then. Now he’s apparently one of the biggest growers around here, too. What’s he doing, taking over the flower world, acre by acre?”

  Jess shrugged. “I don’t see why any of that matters. It’s been years since you two split up. You’re both adults. This is business. Surely you can be civilized.”

  Bree wasn’t so sure of that. Their last encounter had been anything but civilized. She’d expected a little anger, but not the heat radiating off Jake in waves that could have roasted marshmallows.

  “It will be awkward,” she said finally in what was the most massive understatement she’d ever uttered.

  “Then don’t deal with him,” Jess suggested, still unconcerned. “As big as the business is now, he probably has plenty of people working for him. Deal with one of them. He’s usually out on jobs anyway. I see him all over the place.” She grinned. “He lo
oks really, really fine, by the way.”

  Bree knew, though she had no intention of acknowledging just how fine she thought he looked. This situation was disastrous enough as it was. If Jess or anyone else in the family thought there was so much as an ember of that relationship that wasn’t stone cold, they might try to fan it back to life.

  “I can’t avoid him. It seems I have to deal directly with Mr. Collins if I want to open an account. Mr. Collins makes those arrangements. Mr. Collins decides if Shores Nursery can accommodate another wholesale customer. If not, she’s sure Mr. Collins would be happy to recommend an alternative, although there’s no other grower or supplier half as good within a fifty-mile radius. I wanted to reach through the phone and strangle her perky little neck.”

  Jess stared at her. “Okay, Bree, what’s really going on here? Is this just about some kind of old news between you and Jake?”

  Bree regarded her blankly. “Of course, what else could it be?”

  “I’m not sure, but to tell you the truth, for a second there, you sounded a little jealous.”

  “Jealous? That’s ridiculous.” She frowned. “It’s just that this woman sounded so, I don’t know, adoring. It made me a little crazy.”

  “I’ll say,” Jess confirmed. “What I don’t get is why. I thought you were the one who dumped him.”

  “It wasn’t exactly like that,” Bree said.

  Interest sparked in Jess’s eyes. “Then what was it like?”

  Bree sighed. “Never mind. You said it. It’s old news. I’ll figure out some way to deal with Jake to get the flowers I need.”

  Of course, that assumed that if she ever succeeded in getting past his obviously protective gatekeeper, Mr. Collins would even give her the time of day.

  Jake crumpled up the fifth message he’d had from Bree in two days and tossed it in the trash can. He scowled when he realized that Connie had caught him doing it. She marched into his office, a lecture clearly on the tip of her tongue.