When Luke emerged from the kitchen with the take-out order, Carrie held out her hand. “I’ll take it to him.”
Luke frowned. “Since when did we offer curbside service and how’d you get roped into it?”
“Just give me the bag. Did you put in some of Nell’s cookies?”
“You told me to, didn’t you? Of course I did. Are you picking up the check, too?”
“Very funny. His money’s by the register. Keep the change.”
She was about to open the door, when Luke called out.
“Carrie!”
She stopped, but didn’t turn around.
“Come back here after you’ve delivered that,” he said.
“I was going to head home.”
“Not just yet,” he said firmly.
A few years ago she might have reminded him he wasn’t the boss of her, but she was more mature now. “Fine,” she said grudgingly.
She crossed the street and handed over the bag. The aroma of the stew made her stomach rumble. Maybe returning to the pub was a good idea, after all. She could use some of that stew herself.
“Here, take this quick, before I decide to dive in and eat it myself,” she said, handing him the bag.
He reached for the bag, took a sniff and sighed. “It does smell good. I hope Bobby will eat it.”
“Is he a picky eater?”
“It’s hard to tell. He’s shown little interest in anything the past couple of weeks, but that could be because of the circumstances. The only thing I’ve been able to coax him to eat are burgers and French fries, but I know I need to break that habit.”
“Now you’re talking like a responsible parent,” she told him approvingly.
He gave her a wry look. “If only it were that easy. Make sure he eats healthy meals and all will be right in his world.”
“Are you staying here in Chesapeake Shores or just passing through?” When he didn’t immediately respond, she added, “I’m Carrie Winters, by the way.”
He held out his hand. “Sam Winslow. I gather you’re a local.”
“Absolutely. My cousin Luke owns the pub. I think I mentioned that. My grandfather, Mick O’Brien, designed the whole town.”
He regarded her with amusement. “Is that what entitles you to dig into the lives of everyone you meet?”
“That’s just natural curiosity,” she said, trying to keep a defensive note from her voice. “And friendliness. Chesapeake Shores is known for being a very friendly town. We roll out the welcome mat for strangers. You’d know that if you’d spent any time here, which must mean you’re passing through.”
For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer, but then he sighed heavily. “Actually I moved here about two weeks before my sister’s accident. I’m the new web designer and tech expert for the local paper.”
Carrie’s mood immediately improved. She beamed at him. “Then you’re working for Mack Franklin. That makes you practically family. He’s married to my cousin Susie—well, my second cousin, actually—she’s Luke’s sister.”
He shook his head, amazement written on his face. “There really are O’Briens everywhere in this town, aren’t there?”
She gestured toward the carved gold letters on a dark green background on the front of the pub. “We don’t try to hide it,” she said. “And there are a lot of us, especially when you take into account extended family. And it’s a close-knit community in general. You’re going to love it here, and it will be a great place for your nephew to grow up.”
Exhaustion and defeat seemed to settle on his face once more. “I hope so. His parents dying so suddenly, moving to a new place plus adapting to having me as, well, whatever I’m supposed to be now.” He shook his head. “It’s a lot for a six-year-old to handle.”
Carrie could only imagine how difficult it must be, and not just for a little boy, but for this man, as well. “If you ever want to talk to someone, my aunt Jess, who owns the Inn at Eagle Point, is married to a shrink.”
“Will Lincoln?” he said, looking surprised.
“You’ve met him?”
“I’m still staying at the inn till I can find a place to buy or rent. I’ve had a couple of conversations with Will. He invited me to join some of the guys to shoot hoops. He never mentioned what he does for a living.”
“He’s a great guy. Or if you just need somebody to listen, Luke’s not bad. He lives up to the stereotype of a bartender who can listen without passing judgment. That’s why I was in there tonight spilling my guts to him. I have a slew of people in my family who’d happily listen, but not without telling me what to do. Luke just threw out suggestions. He gave me some interesting food for thought.”
Sam looked her over skeptically, apparently leaping to conclusions based on her designer clothes, the ridiculously expensive shoes she loved and the flawless makeup she’d learned to apply working in fashion, where looks mattered. Being in the world of cover models required that she pay a lot of attention to her own appearance if she hoped to compete. Was it too much for Chesapeake Shores? So what if it was? It was hardly something she needed to apologize for. Since when was looking presentable in public a crime?
“You have problems?” he asked, proving she’d read his disdain correctly.
“Everybody has problems,” she said. “Some are worse than others, but that doesn’t mean they don’t matter to the people trying to get through them.”
“Tell me about yours,” he said. “Did you have trouble deciding what to wear tonight? Perhaps your Porsche wouldn’t start? Or maybe you accepted a date with a guy and are trying to figure out how to get out of it?”
The comments suggesting that she was so shallow stung, especially coming from a man who couldn’t possibly know anything about her.
She backed off at once, no longer trying to hide her annoyance. “Look, I was just trying to help. That’s what we do in this town. I don’t deserve to be judged or insulted.”
He turned and faced her then, and she could clearly see the despair in his dark, shadowed eyes along with what was perhaps just a hint of guilt.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Truly. I don’t know what got into me. I usually have better manners than that.”
“You obviously have a lot on your mind,” she said, deciding yet again to make allowances. It seemed she was being called on to make a lot of allowances, something she rarely did. “Sometimes sharing a burden helps. If you don’t want to talk to me or Luke, just about anyone in Chesapeake Shores would be eager to listen and lend a helping hand.”
“I’m not sure there’s a well-meaning person on earth who can fix this,” he told her.
“Well, as difficult as it might be, time usually takes care of most problems.” She gave him a rueful look. “And just so you know, I don’t have the patience for waiting for that to happen, either. I’m just told that it’s true.”
He smiled as she’d intended.
“I’m pretty sure this test was designed to try mine, too,” he admitted. “They do say karma has a way of getting you. A couple of weeks ago I was a pretty carefree guy. Now I’m tense and capable of biting off the head of someone who’s only trying to be nice.”
“You’re probably entitled, but fair warning,” she said lightly. “I won’t let you get away with it again.”
“Thank you.” He looked away. “The grief, that’s one thing. You’re right. I’ll get over that in time. But becoming a dad to a boy I’ve only seen a few times before...” He shook his head. “I have no idea how to do that.” He gave her another doubtful look. “Any thoughts on that?”
“One day at a time,” she said at once. “I know it sounds glib, but that’s the only way to do anything that’s difficult, at least that’s what my family is always saying. And ask for help when you need it.”
“I’ve always relied on myself. My parents are long gone and my sister and I, well, we’d had our differences. We hadn’t been all that close the past few years, which is another reason this custody arrangemen
t came as such a shock.” Sorrow darkened his eyes. “Now I get to live with regret for not doing more to mend fences. We always think we have all the time in the world to fix things.”
“I’ve found that regrets are usually pointless,” she told him. “The situation is what it is. You have a child to consider now. If you do right by him, I’m sure that’s all that would really matter to your sister. And trust me, when word gets around about what you’re going through, you’ll have all the support you could possibly need.”
She hesitated, tried to talk herself out of making an impulsive offer, but then made it, anyway. “In fact, if you need any help with day care, I can probably help out. I don’t run a day care, but I watch my sister’s baby a few days a week. Several of my younger cousins stop by from time to time to hang out. Your nephew would be welcome. I have an endless supply of cookies on hand and a lot of the coolest toys.”
For the first time since they’d met, Sam smiled, and it actually reached his eyes. Carrie’s heart did a sudden and entirely predictable flip, something that hadn’t happened to her in all the months since she’d been away from Europe and Marc. It was disconcerting—and very untimely, given her recent resolution to avoid jumping into another relationship anytime soon.
“I’d better get back to the pub,” she said hurriedly. “Luke’s waiting for me. And I hear a bowl of that stew calling my name.”
“Sure,” Sam said and held up the bag. “Thanks for bringing this to me, and for the cookies.”
“No problem. And remember what I said, if you need help, ask. You can always get my cell phone number or address from Luke or Mack or Susie.”
She turned and crossed the street quickly. She hesitated for just an instant, trying to assure that there was a perfectly neutral expression on her face before she saw Luke. She was careful not to glance over her shoulder to see if Sam had left or even waved. He was just a guy, after all, a customer. She didn’t need her cousin going all protective on her.
“You took long enough,” Luke said, frowning when she finally went inside.
“You’re lucky I came back at all,” she retorted. “You know how we all dislike being ordered to do anything. And I’m only here for some of that Irish stew, not for one of your lectures.”
Luke’s scowl deepened. “I just want to know why you were waiting on that guy. It’s not as if you work here. And he was rude. I might have been in the kitchen, but I’m not deaf. I heard the way he talked to you when he first came in.”
“There were extenuating circumstances,” she said.
“Really? Tell me.”
She debated doing just that, but decided it wasn’t her story to tell. “I’m sure you’ll be seeing him around. He’s working for Mack. Get your sister to fill you in. Forget about the stew. I’m going home.”
“Please just tell me you have no interest in him beyond being nice to one of my customers,” her cousin said.
“What if I can’t say that?”
“Carrie, come on. That guy has issues.”
“No question about it,” she agreed.
“Don’t you have enough issues of your own without taking on his?”
“I’m not taking on anything. I’m being friendly. That’s what we do around here. Ask Mick.”
Luke groaned. “Blast it all! I leave you alone in here for five minutes and you manage to get tangled up in trouble.”
She laughed at the exaggeration. “Stop fretting. I’m not tangled up in anything,” she said, waving as she went out the door.
Not yet, anyway.
* * *
Mick watched his granddaughter walk away from O’Brien’s as if she were in a big hurry to get somewhere. She didn’t even turn around when he called out to her.
“What’s going on with her?” he grumbled to his wife as he held open the door to the pub. “Since when does she ignore her own grandfather?”
“When she doesn’t want to talk about whatever’s on her mind,” Megan said. “Ever since she came home, you’ve been all over her to make some decisions about her future. Maybe she’s tired of it.”
“Well, she needs to stop wasting time,” he replied. “You can’t tell me she’s still brokenhearted over the jerk in Europe. He obviously wasn’t good enough for her.”
“Not your call,” Megan reminded him. “It’s not about whether he was or wasn’t good enough for her, or about how long it should take her to get over him.”
Mick just scowled at his wife. He hated it when Megan got all reasonable and pointed out that he couldn’t control everything around him, especially when it came to his own family. Okay, she was usually right, but that didn’t mean he should stop trying to make sure things worked out the way they were supposed to.
“Hey, Uncle Mick,” Luke said. “Aunt Megan. Do you all want a table or are you going to sit at the bar?”
“We’ll sit at the bar,” Mick told him. “Then you can fill us in on why Carrie was in such a state when she left here.”
“Mick!” Megan protested. “Don’t involve Luke in this.”
Luke regarded them with an innocent expression that Mick wasn’t buying for a second.
“Was she in some kind of a state?” Luke inquired, as if he hadn’t noticed a thing out of the ordinary about her mood.
Mick frowned at him. “Did all you kids make a pact to keep me in the dark about things?”
His nephew laughed. “No pact,” he insisted. “But I did take an oath to protect my customers’ privacy.”
“Carrie’s not a customer. She’s family.”
“Then march right on over to her house and ask her yourself,” Luke suggested, setting a pint of ale in front of Mick and a glass of red wine in front of Megan, who was trying hard to bite back a smile.
“Ungrateful wretch,” Mick mumbled.
“Watch it or I’ll tell Gram you were calling me names,” Luke retorted.
“Ma doesn’t scare me,” Mick said.
“Well, she ought to,” Megan said. “Now hush. Let’s have a nice dinner and then go home.”
Mick sighed as Luke beat a hasty retreat, leaving him to stew over the lack of information. “You’re both acting as if I’m in the wrong for being concerned about my own granddaughter,” he told Megan.
“Not wrong,” she soothed. “Just misguided. Carrie’s a grown woman. She’ll figure things out for herself. And to be honest, Mick, the more you push, the harder you’ll make that for her. Stubbornness is a family trait. You, of all people, ought to know that.”
He scowled at his wife. “You saying I’m stubborn?”
She gave him an incredulous look. “You are the king of stubborn!” she declared. “But you’re also caring and thoughtful and I wouldn’t have you any other way. Just, please, this once, stop your meddling. It was partly because of your good intentions that our Caitlyn barely made it down the aisle before her baby was born. Learn from past mistakes.”
“Caitlyn’s married now, isn’t she? And every one of our kids and my brother Jeff’s are settled and happy, in some measure due to my so-called good intentions.”
“In spite of,” Megan corrected. She called out to Luke, who was hovering just out of view in the kitchen doorway. “Luke, bring us some of that stew, and hurry, please. Maybe if Mick’s stomach is full of some good old-fashioned Irish food, he’ll take a break from fretting about Carrie.”
Mick frowned at the suggestion. “I’m perfectly capable of doing two things at once,” he told her.
She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I know,” she said quietly. “More’s the pity. If you need something else to chew on, how about this?”
The suggestion she whispered in his ear for how they might spend the rest of the evening pretty much wiped all thoughts of his granddaughter and her problems right out of his head. He grinned at his wife.
“Clever woman,” he murmured approvingly.
“You haven’t loved me all these years for no reason,” she said smugly.
Mick sighed. That was true
enough. Even during all the years they’d been apart, he’d loved her to pieces. It had just taken getting past his hurt pride to give him the courage to fight to win her back. Now that he had, maybe he shouldn’t be wasting quite so much time on fixing everybody else’s lives.
“I’ll make you a deal,” he offered.
“What’s that?”
“For the rest of tonight you have my full attention.”
“And then?” she asked.
“You run your art gallery during the day, and I’ll do the things I need to do.”
“Of course you will,” she said with a sigh. “But if that’s the best I can hope for, at least Carrie will have the night off from your interference.”
Mick gave a nod of satisfaction. He doubted Carrie’s problem would resolve itself overnight. He’d make it his priority first thing in the morning.
* * *
Carrie wandered around the cottage, half expecting her grandfather to appear any minute with more of his questions and disappointed looks when she had no answers for him. When he never appeared, she knew she probably had Grandma Megan and maybe even Luke to thank.
Oddly enough, she would have welcomed the distraction of one of Grandpa Mick’s cross-examinations. Images of Sam Winslow were a little too enticing for her comfort, especially when counterpointed against the disdain she’d felt radiating from him during their conversation. Add in his boneheaded move of leaving his nephew alone in the car, no matter how he’d justified it, and he definitely wasn’t someone she should be giving the time of day. Luke had probably been right about that. She wasn’t crazy about acknowledging that, either.
When her phone rang, she seized it, grateful for the excuse to escape her conflicted reaction to the man.
Willow Brook Road Page 3
