Lilac Lane

by Sherryl Woods

  “How will you be introducing me to the staff?” she asked. “Am I to be one of them, or a consultant only, as Moira suggested, or a nosy troublesome mother-in-law who happens to be visiting from Ireland and can’t keep her opinions to herself?”

  Luke gave her a curious glance. “Are you in need of a formal title?”

  “Not for my ego,” she replied tartly. “But it will be a help to all of us, if I know my place.”

  “Since I can’t give you an official position just yet until Connor settles that paperwork, why don’t we just say you’re helping out and lending us your expertise from years of working in pubs in Ireland?”

  Kiera nodded slowly. “So a voice, but no authority.”

  “Something like that,” Luke said, his tone cautious. “Are you okay with that for now?”

  “I’ll do my best to make it work,” she said. She’d spent years under similar restraint in her old job. She’d had far more freedom and say at Peter’s pub, but she could put that aside for now. At least she hoped she could, if only in the name of family harmony.

  *

  Bryan looked up from the Irish soda bread he was about to put into the oven to see Kiera Malone regarding him intently, her expression radiating disapproval.

  “Something on your mind?” he asked.

  “Just observing,” she said, backing off a step.

  “But you have something to say. I can see that you’re practically biting your tongue. Just say it.”

  Ever since Kiera had been introduced to the staff at O’Brien’s, she’d been lurking about, observing as she put it. It was driving him a little bit crazy. He didn’t like extra people milling about in his kitchen, especially with an unmistakable hint of judgment in their eyes. He’d grown used to being respected, thanks to regular praise from not only the customers, but from Nell O’Brien, who was his go-to person for inspiration with the menu and its execution.

  To be fair, from what he’d seen, Kiera was a hard worker in general and she got on well enough with the customers and even the waitstaff. She wasn’t still for a minute and was always eager to take on any task that was given to her, even pitching in to help out washing dishes or scrubbing the floor after hours. All of that was admirable.

  It was the way she watched him as he worked, though, that made him want to banish her from his kitchen. It was only out of respect for Luke and Moira that he’d kept his mouth shut till now and tried to accept her presence underfoot.

  He studied her expression and could tell she was torn between speaking out and staying silent. “Just say whatever’s on your mind before your head explodes,” he told her impatiently.

  “The soda bread is going to be hard as a rock,” she blurted finally.

  He frowned at her. “And just why is that?”

  “You were pounding it as if you had a grudge against it,” she told him.

  Bryan drew in a deep breath to try to calm himself before he said something he’d regret. It was true, he’d been taking out his frustration over Kiera’s presence on the dough. And, quite likely, she was right. Overkneading would be the kiss of death for the soda bread. It would likely be inedible.

  Rather than admitting as much, however, he simply gestured to the array of ingredients. “Would you like to show me how it’s done?”

  Her expression brightened at once. “You won’t be offended?”

  Given that it was his way of saving face when his own loaves of bread were tossed in the trash, no, he wouldn’t be offended at all.

  “Have at it,” he said, instead. “I have other work to do if we’re to be ready when the doors open for lunch.”

  When he turned back a few minutes later, Kiera was lovingly kneading the bread with a touch that stirred an annoying hint of longing. Out of the blue a shocking image of those hands on him, massaging his shoulders at the end of the day, made him more irritable than ever. Images like that were not only inappropriate, they were totally unwelcome. At this rate, the woman was going to drive him to the brink of insanity and she hadn’t even been underfoot a full week.

  Chapter 3

  When Kiera emerged from her room on her day off, she found Moira on the porch with a cup of tea, looking far more relaxed than she usually did during the family’s hectic mornings.

  “What are you doing all alone out here?” Kiera asked, drawing her robe more tightly around her to ward off the early-morning chill. “And where’s your sweater? The air’s cool and damp today. You’ll catch a cold.”

  Moira chuckled. “It’s been a few years since you’ve scolded me like that. You call this weather cool and damp after living by the sea in Ireland? Have you been away so long already that you’ve forgotten what cool and damp are truly like? I remember it clearly. The fog rolling in off the water, the dampness seeping into your bones. This weather today is nothing that a nice cup of tea can’t improve. May I get you one?”

  “I’ll do it for myself in a minute,” Kiera said. “So what are your plans for the day? Usually by now you’re already out the door with your camera in hand.”

  “I have the whole day entirely to myself,” Moira said. “Luke took Kate over to Carrie’s today. The babysitter will pick her up later. Since you’re off as well, I thought you and I could do something together, perhaps starting with breakfast at Sally’s.”

  “Why there, when I could fix something for us here?” Kiera asked.

  “It’s become a tradition for the O’Brien women who have businesses downtown to gather there every morning before they start their workday,” Moira explained. “You’ve been here a couple of weeks now. You should really get to know them. I find listening to them talk about balancing work and family to be inspirational. On my bad days, they help me to believe I can successfully juggle it all.”

  “I’ve already met them all,” Kiera reminded her.

  “At Christmas in Ireland years ago and at Nell’s when you first arrived here. That’s hardly time to get to know them. I’ll bet you can’t even put names with faces yet.”

  Kiera lifted a brow. “Is that a dare I hear in your voice? Your husband seems to think your marriage depends on these little bets you have between you. Are you taking that tack with me, too?”

  Moira blinked and color rose in her cheeks. “Luke told you about our bets?”

  “He did,” she said, chuckling at her daughter’s dismay. She had a feeling they weren’t talking about precisely the same bets. Some must take an interesting and intimate twist from time to time. It was probably best that she didn’t know the details of those.

  “Are you daring me to name the O’Brien women when we see them at the restaurant?” Kiera persisted. “Have you forgotten that a good waitress must have a knack for keeping her regular customers’ names straight in her head, along with their food preferences and any other details they might reveal over time?”

  “Then you’re accepting the challenge?” Moira asked, sounding surprised.

  “Of course, but what’s the reward if I prove myself?”

  “I will treat you to a full day of pampering—a manicure, pedicure, all the spa treatments you can imagine, including a new hairstyle.”

  Rather than succumbing to the temptation of such an indulgence, Kiera bristled. “And what is wrong with my hairstyle?”

  “Nothing at all,” Moira said hurriedly. “But twisting your hair into a tight knot on top of your head isn’t exactly a style, now, is it, at least not of the sort they show in fashion magazines? In your case it’s merely a convenience.”

  “It’s the way I’ve worn it for years. It suits me and it meets regulations at any restaurant.”

  “Now, there’s an explanation to make any woman proud of her appearance,” Moira argued. “Besides, the truth is that you do it mostly because it’s easy and familiar.”

  “Haven’t you shaken up my routine enough in recent weeks?” Kiera grumbled. “Are you now concerned with my frumpy appearance?”

  “You’re not frumpy,” Moira declared hurriedly. “Just a wee
bit dated, perhaps. Most women like a change now and again. I thought you’d be pleased by the prospect. I wasn’t trying to insult you.”

  Kiera sighed. “I know you weren’t. And it’s a lovely offer. If I win, I’ll let you make me over however you like.”

  Moira’s eyes narrowed. “You aren’t going to lose on purpose just to thwart my efforts, are you?”

  “Girl, don’t you know me well enough to know that I never lose anything on purpose? We’re a lot alike in that way.”

  Moira laughed then. “We are, indeed.”

  “And what if you win and I can’t name everyone? What am I to give you?”

  “The chance to spend the day with you at a spa,” Moira said.

  “Clever,” Kiera said approvingly. “You’ve a knack for getting your own way, no matter what.”

  “Something my husband has learned very well,” Moira replied with a saucy grin.

  A half hour later, they walked in the door at Sally’s. The brightly lit, cozy café, which was just across from the town green, was crowded with people sipping coffee and having a chat before work. Some had plates piled high with eggs and sausages and bacon. Others had croissants, some raspberry, some chocolate. Both looked delicious. Kiera’s mouth watered.

  When she could tear her gaze away from the flaky croissants, Kiera immediately spotted several of the O’Brien women seated at a large round table in the back.

  “We used to sit in a booth with everyone coming and going as their workdays began,” Moira told her as she started to weave her way between tables. “But it got to the point, there were so many of us and none of us wanted to miss anything that we took over the bigger table in back.” She leaned closer. “We stole it right out from under some of the men in town, who thought they’d earned a permanent right to it,” she confided. “I think that was the real reason we made the move.”

  Kiera chuckled, pleased by the thought of getting to know some women who weren’t intimidated by anyone. She stopped en route to joining them and put a hand on Moira’s arm to halt her progress. “Shall we put my memory to the test now before we join them or would you prefer that I demonstrate by greeting them one by one?”

  Amusement sparkled in her daughter’s eyes. “Your choice.”

  “Then I’ll go and say hello,” Kiera said, walking the last few steps to the table and approaching Mick’s wife first. “Good morning, Megan. I’d love to know more about those paintings in the window at your gallery. I’ve been admiring them ever since I arrived. And Bree, how are you today? As soon as Flowers on Main opens this morning, I’ll be in to buy some fresh flowers to take home. Shanna, I’ll be stopping by your bookstore later, as well. I’m told you carry a fine selection of cozy mysteries. They’re my favorite. Heather, the quilt you have in the window of your store is lovely. Did you make it yourself?”

  She turned to Moira. “Have I done this to your satisfaction?”

  Moira blushed as the others regarded them curiously. “I’m afraid I made the mistake of betting my mum that she’d never remember each of your names. She’s gone me one better by noting which shops you own, too.”

  “Don’t you know you should never underrate a mother’s hidden talents?” Megan teased, laughing. “Kiera, I think it’s a common curse. Children never think we have any skills worth noting.”

  “I won’t make that mistake again,” Moira vowed. “This one is costing me a trip to a day spa.”

  “Oh, what I wouldn’t do for a day of pampering,” Bree said with a sigh, holding up her hands for inspection. “I have far too many nicks from thorns and floral wire, and my nails are totally ragged.”

  “Then come along,” Kiera said readily.

  “Oh, do,” Moira chimed in. “It will be fun to have a totally indulgent girls’ day.”

  “Sadly, I don’t have anyone to take over for me at the shop today,” Bree said. “But if you go again, count me in.”

  The talk turned to family gossip and bits of town news. Even though Kiera didn’t know all of the people whose names were tossed about, there was something surprisingly soothing about being treated as a member of this boisterous group that laughed almost as frequently as they spoke. She felt more a part of them than she had on the day they’d first welcomed her at Nell’s. That was a more formal occasion, and while it had been meant to make her feel included, she’d really felt like an outsider who had something to prove. Today she felt accepted. After years of living as if it was her against the world, it was startling how good that simple act of acceptance felt.

  *

  Bryan had felt oddly edgy all day. He’d glanced over his shoulder half a dozen times, expecting to see Kiera Malone lurking about, watching him as she had ever since her first unofficial day on the job at O’Brien’s. Instead, there’d been no sign of her. And, ironically, that bothered him almost as much as her presence. He was obviously losing it.

  “You seem a bit off-kilter today,” Luke said as Bryan took a rare break to sit at the bar and have a cup of coffee while the pub was in a lull between lunch and dinner. “Everything okay?”

  “Fine,” Bryan said. “It’s been quieter than usual, don’t you think?”

  Luke gave him an incredulous look. “Did you not keep count of how many meals you were putting together at lunch? We had an entire busload of tourists come in, along with our regulars.”

  Bryan felt his cheeks heat. “Well, of course, there were a lot of customers. I was talking about…” His voice trailed off. There was no way to explain without giving himself away.

  “Are you, by any chance, referring to Kiera’s absence?” Luke inquired, a knowing glint in his eyes.

  “Is she not around?” Bryan asked, trying to seem disinterested.

  Luke just laughed. “Nice try, my friend, but I know she’s been getting under your skin.”

  “Not at all. It’s just that…” Again, he couldn’t think of any words that wouldn’t either imply too much or be insulting somehow to his boss’s mother-in-law. Neither would be good.

  “It’s just that she’s always underfoot in your kitchen,” Luke guessed.

  Bryan sighed. “Something like that.”

  “Is it too much?” Luke asked, real concern in his voice. “I can tell her to back off, to go through me if she has suggestions.”

  “That would be making too much of it,” Bryan said, though it was exactly what he wanted. “I’m just not used to having someone question every move I make.”

  Worry continued to darken Luke’s eyes. “Is that what she’s doing? You know I trust you. More important, my grandmother trusts that you know what you’re doing, and it’s her opinion we live by when it comes to the food here. Everybody in town enjoys an invitation to Nell O’Brien’s table. Since we’ve been open, they now feel they can have that sort of meal right here anytime they want. I don’t want anyone to suggest we don’t have faith in the way you’re running the kitchen.”

  “To be honest, Kiera doesn’t say all that much unless I urge her to speak up. It’s just the look on her face. I know she’s biting her tongue to keep from offending me. It makes me nervous.”

  “Are you sure it has nothing to do with her being an attractive woman?” Luke taunted. “I know she might be a couple of years older than you and I see her only as Moira’s mother, but I’ve seen the way the gazes of some of our regulars follow her when she’s in the room. It’s little wonder that you’re not immune.”

  Bryan scowled. “This is most definitely not about that,” he said flatly. “I’m not saying she’s not attractive, just that I’m not interested in her in that way. It would be inappropriate. She’s my boss’s mother-in-law. That makes her off-limits. Period.”

  “Said a little too emphatically, if you ask me,” Luke noted, laughing. “But I’ll take you at your word. If you want me to speak to her, keep her out of the kitchen, just let me know. I’ve told her that’s your domain. I can remind her again.”

  “That would be making too much of it,” Bryan said again, feeli
ng foolish about the entire conversation. It had probably been far too telling. Kiera Malone rattled him, and he wasn’t entirely prepared to say why. He wasn’t even sure if he could explain it to himself. And he certainly wasn’t about to endure Luke’s teasing by making some faltering attempt to explain it to him.

  *

  It was well past six when Kiera and Moira left the spa and headed straight for O’Brien’s for something to eat. Kiera had a hunch Moira was more excited about showing off her mother’s makeover than she was about her own.

  Kiera still wasn’t used to the image she saw when she looked into the mirror. She looked ten years younger. That’s what the hairstylist had told her about the shorter cut, and Moira had agreed. Kiera wasn’t sure about ten years, but she did feel lighter and more feminine somehow. And not all of the color in her cheeks was due to the blush they’d applied at the salon. She felt surprisingly good about her new look, though oddly uneasy about showing it off at the pub.

  When her daughter held open the door for her at O’Brien’s, Kiera hesitated ever so slightly.

  “Mum, what are you afraid of? You look amazing.”

  “I don’t feel like myself at all. At my age, there’s no need for this sort of nonsense.”

  “At your age?” Moira mocked. “You’re far from over the hill. Pretty polish on your nails, skin that glows and a haircut that frames your face is not unnecessary nonsense. Every woman deserves to feel beautiful, whatever her age. As soon as we’re inside, I’m going to get my camera out of Luke’s office and take some pictures, so you can see yourself as I do.”

  “The last thing I want is a fuss. I don’t want to be the center of attention,” Kiera said nervously.

  Moira sighed. “Will you please just come inside and graciously accept all of the compliments that I know are going to come your way?”

  “Is that supposed to make me less nervous?” Kiera grumbled, but she did walk into the pub, relieved to see that it was busy enough that she might not even be noticed. Of course, that didn’t take into account that Mick and Megan were seated at the bar, as they often were, along with Luke’s parents, Jeff and Jo O’Brien.