The Summer Garden

by Sherryl Woods

  “Got it,” Matthew said, jotting notes on the pad that was ever-present in his pocket. “Uncle Mick, what do you think?”

  Mick shook his head and began to pace. Only after he’d been at it a few minutes did Luke realize he was mentally measuring. When he halted in front of Luke, he looked him in the eye. “You have a business plan? Times get tough around here in winter. You have to be able to weather that.”

  “I think the music will keep the locals coming in and maybe draw people from around the region. My figures seem sound enough to me, but I was hoping Laila could take a look at them,” he said. “Math was never my strongest suit. I’m hoping she’ll have time to take over that end of things for me, keep the finances on track and yank my chain when I’m tempted to bust the budget for one thing or another, as she does for Jess.”

  “Ah, so that’s why she’s waiting for us now at Panini Bistro,” Matthew said. “We should probably get over there. Uncle Mick, care to come along?”

  “Try to keep me away,” Mick said at once. “I’ll just walk to the corner, which is where I was headed when I spotted you two, and get Megan. She should be closing up her gallery about now.”

  On his way to get his wife, Luke surmised, Mick had apparently crossed paths with Luke’s cousin Connor, who was meeting his wife, Heather, at her quilt shop and invited them along, because Connor and Heather accompanied Connor’s parents to the restaurant.

  By the time they were actually seated at Panini Bistro, they needed just about every vacant seat in the tiny restaurant. Naturally, it was Mick who seized the moment to announce Luke’s news, which caused a noisy eruption of input from everyone in the room, until Mick finally slapped a hand on the table to get their attention. Then he turned to Luke.

  “What do you plan to call this bar of yours?”

  Luke grinned. “O’Brien’s, of course. If I have a good Irish name, why would I call it anything else?”

  A grin spread across his uncle’s face. “And we’re the first to know about this idea of yours?”

  “You are,” Luke confirmed, then realized what he’d done.

  Yet again, Mick O’Brien had managed to trump one of his brothers, getting the hottest family news first. In a family as competitive as theirs, Luke’s father would never hear the end of it.

  “I don’t suppose you’d let me be the one to tell Dad?” Luke pleaded. “Out of respect.”

  Mick was clearly torn, but when Megan poked him in the ribs with an elbow, he nodded with obvious reluctance. “Only fair, I suppose.”

  “Thank you,” Luke said, then glanced around. “So, I have your support for this? Laila, you’ll look over the budget, and, Connor, you’ll check all the legalities?” As those two nodded readily, he glanced around. “And you all think it’s a good idea?”

  “I think it’s a fine idea,” Mick said to more enthusiastic choruses of agreement from the others. “And if it’s something you’re passionate about, only a fool would stand in your way.”

  Luke had a hunch that if his father didn’t grant him unqualified support, his uncle would be more than happy to repeat the exact same message to him. Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that. The last thing Luke wanted was to launch another family feud.

  Moira glanced at the snapshot she’d taken a few weeks ago of Luke O’Brien. It was one of her better pictures, she thought. It had captured him laughing, the sea in the background, his black hair tousled by the wind, his blue eyes sparkling with mirth. Just looking at it made her heart catch.

  When Luke had turned up at her grandfather’s house along with the rest of his boisterous family for a Christmas season celebration, she’d been in one of her increasingly dark moods, ready to snap at anyone who crossed her path. Her grandfather and her mum were used to her mood swings and her rebellions. They openly worried about her and her lack of direction, which only made her more miserable.

  Amazingly, she hadn’t scared Luke off with her tart tongue. He’d stuck to her that night like glue, teased her until she’d even managed a smile or two. And when they’d all gathered for his brother’s impromptu wedding to Laila just days later, Luke had even coaxed her onto the dance floor, crooning in her ear as if he were settling a nervous filly until she finally relaxed in his arms. And fell just a little bit in love with him.

  Truthfully, she’d fallen for his whole family. They were so different from her own. For all the evidence that they argued and battled wits, the O’Briens were also openly affectionate with one another. There was none of the bitterness that emanated from her own mum, or the nonstop worry she saw in her grandfather’s eyes. Brothers, sisters and cousins, along with their spouses, actually seemed to love one another, while Moira could honestly say there were days when she wished her own self-absorbed, thoughtless brothers would vanish in a puff of smoke.

  “Moira, the fellow at the table in the corner has been trying to catch your eye for a while now,” Peter McDonough said. “Seems he’s ready for another Guinness.”

  Moira snapped herself back to the moment, then quickly returned the picture of Luke to her pocket. She took the drink and crossed the pub.

  “Kevin, is it?” she said to the man, who was apparently a regular, while she was new to this particular pub, if not to waiting tables. “Sorry for the delay.”

  He gave her a friendly smile. “You looked distracted. Was it someone special in the picture you were studying so intently?”

  Was Luke someone special? she wondered. Well, the answer to that was obvious. Of course he was! He was a charming rogue, the kind of man her dad had been, if her mother’s bitter stories were to be believed. She’d understood for the first time how her mother could have been taken in by such a man. In just a few short weeks she’d started imagining herself with Luke forever.

  “A friend,” she said now, knowing that she and Luke were at least that much.

  The time they’d spent together had been amazing. They saw eye-to-eye on so many things, were both struggling to figure out their places in the world. Together, they’d shared laughter and a passion that had been entirely new to her. At twenty-two, she’d thought she’d been in love a time or two, but now she knew better. What she’d felt with Luke had been different. She’d looked beyond immediate gratification to a future. She only wished she could be sure he’d done the same.

  His emails since he’d returned home to Chesapeake Shores had been thoroughly unsatisfying. They’d told her only that she’d crossed his mind, but little else about what he was doing or, more important, feeling. They’d made her cautious in her own responses, not wanting to reveal too much about how desperately she missed him. It seemed impossible that someone could mean so much to her after so little time. Perhaps those days and nights they’d spent together had been nothing more than a wonderful but temporary fantasy come true.

  The one practical result being with Luke had accomplished was to motivate her to finally leave the small village where she’d grown up to come to Dublin. For the moment she was staying with her grandfather, but if this job continued the way it had begun, with more than decent tips at the end of the day, she’d soon have enough to find a small place of her own or with a girlfriend. Finally, she’d be doing something she enjoyed without her mum gazing at her in disappointment because she wasn’t continuing her education or aiming higher.

  What Kiera Malone had never understood was that Moira enjoyed talking to people, making them smile, being surrounded by their laughter. The only activity more satisfying to her was photography, but she hadn’t a clue how to turn that into a career. For now, she was happy enough taking pictures just for her own pleasure, giving them to friends when she’d captured them at a moment when their personality was evident in the shot.

  Back at the bar, she drew the picture of Luke from her pocket once more and smiled. She’d done exactly that in this shot of Luke at his carefree, ch
arming best.

  “What’s that?” Peter asked, glancing over her shoulder, then recognizing Luke from the time he’d spent in the pub asking questions and filling in behind the bar. “Ah, you’ve caught the essence of Luke, that’s for sure.” His expression turned thoughtful. “Have you taken others?”

  “Sure. Why?”

  “Could you do the same thing in here, perhaps snap some pictures of the regulars? We could frame them and hang them on the walls.”

  She regarded him with astonishment. “Seriously?” It was the first time anyone had even hinted that she was good enough at photography to do more than take snapshots for her own enjoyment.

  “You’ve been coming around here with your grandfather for years. Have you ever known me not to be serious when it comes to this business?” he asked. “I think it will add something special to the place.” He shrugged. “Who knows? It might also bring you a few customers who’d like you to take pictures for their family events.”

  Moira hesitated. Was she really good enough for that? Was that even something she wanted? She heard Luke’s voice in her head, encouraging her to take chances, to reach for things she found truly satisfying.

  “I’ll do it,” she told Peter, feeling a faint stirring of excitement. “No charge for you, of course. We’ll just see how they turn out.”

  “If you take them, I’ll pay for them,” her boss insisted. “You’ll have to be setting your rates now, won’t you?” He grinned. “And then you can give me a generous first-time customer discount.”

  She laughed. “Deal.”

  A day that had started out in a very dreary way had taken a definite turn for the better. And to think it was her snapshot of Luke that had made that happen. Even from such a long distance, it seemed he was her good-luck charm. If only he were a little closer, Moira thought, she could thank him in person. At least tonight she could send him an email with something exciting to report from her own life, something that might engage him in the sort of exchange they’d had so often during his visit.

  Jeff O’Brien regarded his younger son with dismay. “A pub? Are you serious?”

  “I am,” Luke said, keeping his gaze level and not backing down under Jeff’s blatant skepticism.

  “But why? You have a college degree. Why not put it to good use? You could teach history at the high school.”

  “Me? In a classroom? I’d lose my freaking mind,” Luke replied.

  Jeff smiled at the adamant response. “Sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. Even as the words were coming out of my mouth, I realized it was a bad fit. You played hooky every chance you got, didn’t you? How many times was your mother hauled out of her classroom or I was called in from work to bail you out of a jam with the principal? I doubt you’d be any happier at the front of the room. You were never fond of routines and predictability.”

  “Exactly,” Luke said, then leaned forward earnestly. “I know this isn’t anything we ever talked about, Dad, but the minute the pieces started falling into place, it felt right. I don’t know if it was being in Ireland and really connecting with my Irish roots, or what Mack said about my being a good listener, or maybe both together, but for the first time I thought, this is something I can do, something I can be really excited about.”

  Jeff heard that excitement in his son’s voice and, though he had a thousand reservations, he didn’t want to be the one to put a damper on his enthusiasm. Still, he couldn’t help expressing caution.

  “Businesses come and go in this town,” he warned. “And the start-up costs money. Where will you find it?”

  Luke hesitated, then admitted, “I was thinking I could sell the waterfront land on Beach Lane that you’ve been holding for me.”

  Jeff regarded him with dismay. “Not an option,” he said flatly. “That land is worth a fortune and I held on to it so you could build a home of your own one day, not as an investment for you to sell on a whim.”

  “It’s not a whim, Dad. I’ve needed a goal and finally I have one.”

  “You’ll regret selling it,” Jeff predicted. “Find another way.”

  “I don’t want to start off mired down with loans,” Luke told him. “Please, Dad, just think about it. You’ve always said the land was to be mine. Doesn’t that suggest I should be able to do with it whatever I want to do?”

  “First, tell me how you plan to weather the slow winters. Have you even considered that?”

  “Of course. I’ve even discussed it with Laila and she agrees that it’s a solid plan.”

  Jeff stilled at that. “You’ve told your sister-in-law about all this?”

  Luke winced, his expression immediately guilty. “I did. I wanted her financial input. How could I come to you without knowing my plan was solid?”

  Jeff accepted the logic of that, but he wasn’t entirely pacified. “Then I assume Matthew knows as well?”

  “And Uncle Mick and Connor,” Luke admitted. “I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t intend for them to find out before I spoke to you, but you know how it is around this town. Uncle Mick has big eyes and even bigger ears. He saw Matthew and me on Shore Road the other night, then dragged Connor, Megan and Heather along to dinner with us. The next thing I knew, they were all in on it. I made them promise to keep quiet until I could speak to you myself.”

  Jeff tried not to let his annoyance show. After all, it was true that his older brother saw everything and stuck his nose where it didn’t belong more often than not.

  “And Mick approves?” he asked.

  Luke nodded. “He does, but his opinion doesn’t matter more than yours, Dad. He was just there and you weren’t. I’m coming to you now.”

  “But you’ve already decided to move forward, haven’t you? Other than getting me to let you sell that land, this is little more than a courtesy call.” Jeff hated that he was unable to hide his bitterness more effectively. It had always been this way between him and Mick, a rivalry that never ended, no matter their mother’s attempts to keep peace. It shouldn’t be that way between brothers—and thank God he’d avoided it happening with his sons—but he, Thomas and Mick could spar over the color of the sky.

  Luke looked chagrined. “It’s not like that, Dad. Not at all. My mind has been made up for a few weeks now, since Ireland, in fact. I just wanted to get all the pieces together before I shared them with anyone. I never meant to slight you or suggest that your opinion doesn’t matter. You do know I respect you, right?”

  Jeff fought off feelings that had less to do with Luke than they did with Mick, and nodded. “Of course, son. And though I have some concerns, I’ll support you in this. Whatever you need, I’m behind you. Though I want you to think long and hard before you decide to sell land that you’ll never be able to replace.”

  “I promise to look for other options first,” Luke said, then gave him a sly look. “Does your backing include giving me a break on the rent for the property on Shore Road? I’m thinking a deal is in order. It’s been sitting empty for a few months now. Better to have a reliable tenant in there at a bargain price than to have prime property vacant when the summer season kicks off.”

  Jeff let go of the last of his annoyance. “With clever thinking like that, you’ll do just fine, son. I’ll look over the numbers and get back to you.”

  Looking relieved, Luke nodded. “Thank you.” He hesitated, then asked, “And we’re okay?”

  Jeff hated that his son even had to ask. “Of course we’re okay. I’m always on your side, Luke.” Now it was his turn to hesitate. “Who’s going to do the cooking in this pub of yours? Last time I checked, your skill in the kitchen ran to frying eggs into charcoal.”

  “I learned a few Irish pub recipes before I left Ireland,” Luke admitted. “And I’m counting on Gram to coach me through the rest. The customers won’t starve.”

 
Jeff regarded him with surprise. “You’re going to take cooking lessons from Ma?”

  “Actually, I haven’t mentioned that to her just yet,” Luke said. “I’m hoping to get a few minutes with her on Sunday to see how she’d feel about it.”

  “She’ll be ecstatic,” Jeff predicted, knowing how much Nell wanted someone in the family to step in and learn all the traditional dishes. “That experiment with getting the grandchildren to take over the cooking for Sunday dinners went sadly awry. Only Kevin made anything edible. Thank the Lord, Ma abandoned it before we all died of ptomaine poisoning.”

  Luke grinned. “I’m hoping her reputation in town as a terrific cook will carry the day. Thankfully, no one ever had to eat anything made by those O’Brien culinary pretenders.”

  Jeff laughed. “Yes, thank goodness for that.”

  As he sent Luke on his way, Jeff said a little prayer for the success of his son’s dream. He knew that Luke had struggled as the youngest in a large family of overachievers. Now that Luke had finally found a vision for himself—even one that Jeff wouldn’t necessarily have chosen for him—Jeff wanted nothing more than for his son to achieve the happiness his brother, sister and cousins had found, both personally and professionally.

  And, truth be told, he wouldn’t mind having a nearby place where he could indulge in a bit of Guinness from time to time, along with the nostalgia he often felt for Ireland. The taste he’d had of it with the family at Christmas had only whetted his appetite for more.

  2

  By the weekend, word of Luke’s plan had spread through the entire family. He’d taken his share of ribbing about his lack of culinary skills, but in general everyone had been as supportive as he could have hoped for. The only person Luke hadn’t spoken to yet was his grandmother.

  He sought Nell out after the regular Sunday family dinner at his uncle Mick’s. She was in the kitchen, which everyone conceded was her domain, whether in her son’s house, where she was today, or in her own cottage up the road.