Читать книгу Willow Brook Road - Sherryl Woods - Страница 8
ОглавлениеThe original Mick O’Brien–designed cottage on Willow Brook Road had been built with weathered gray shingles, white trim and a tiny back porch barely big enough for two rockers side by side. They faced Willow Brook, which fed into the Chesapeake Bay. The backyard sloped gently to the brook, with the graceful branches of a trademark weeping willow touching the lawn at the water’s edge. The peaceful setting was just right for quiet conversation or relaxing with a good book.
In front the cottage featured a small yard with an actual white picket fence and a climbing yellow rosebush that tumbled over it with a profusion of fragrant blooms. Bright red and hot-pink geraniums filled pots on the stoop in a vibrant display of clashing colors. The property oozed picturesque charm.
With three cozy bedrooms and a fireplace in the living room and a surprisingly large eat-in kitchen, it was the perfect Chesapeake Shores vacation getaway or a starter home for a small family, but Carrie Winters had been living there alone and at loose ends for almost six months now. The only personal touch she’d added beyond the mismatched furniture she’d acquired from various family attics was the portrait of the whole O’Brien family taken at the Christmas wedding of her twin, Caitlyn.
These days, sitting in one of those rockers for more than a minute or two made her antsy. After two years in a pressure-cooker public relations job at which she’d excelled, being idle was a new experience, and one she didn’t particularly like. She was too distracted for reading anything deeper than the local weekly newspaper. And though she loved to cook, making fancy meals for one person just left her feeling lonely.
Worst of all, she seemed incapable of motivating herself to get out of this funk she’d been in ever since coming home. Chesapeake Shores might be where she wanted—or even needed—to be as she tried to piece her life back together and reevaluate her priorities, but it had created its own sort of pressure.
While the rest of the O’Brien clan was unmistakably worried about her, her grandfather Mick was bordering on frantic. O’Briens did not waste time or wallow in self-pity, which was exactly what Carrie had been doing ever since the breakup of her last relationship. Timed to coincide with the crash-and-burn demolition of her career in the fashion industry, the combination had sent her fleeing from Paris and straight back to her loving family.
Carrie sighed and took a first sip of the one glass of wine she allowed herself at the end of the day. Wallowing was one thing. Getting tipsy all alone was something else entirely. Even she was wise enough to see that.
An image of Marc Reynolds, the fashion-world icon she’d thought she loved, crept into her head, as it did about a hundred times a day. That was down from about a million when she’d first flown home from Europe after the breakup. If it could even be called that, she thought wryly. Truthfully, she’d finally realized that Marc thought of her more as a convenient bed partner and workhorse whose public relations efforts for his fashion empire had helped to put it on the fast track to international acclaim. Unbeknownst to her, his heart apparently belonged to a she-devil, self-absorbed model who treated him like dirt. Carrie could relate, since Marc had pretty much done the same to her. She was still struggling to understand how her judgment could possibly have been so clouded that she hadn’t seen that sooner. Surely the signs had been there. Had she been so besotted she’d missed them? If so, how could she possibly trust her instincts about a man again?
Not that she was going to let that be an issue anytime soon. She was swearing off the male of the species until she figured out who she was and what she truly wanted. At the rate she was progressing on that front, it could take years.
Enough! she told herself firmly, carrying her almost-full glass inside and stepping over a scattering of toys as she went. She smiled as she picked up a floppy-eared bunny and set it gently in a chair. A stack of children’s picture books sat on a nearby table.
Taking care of her twin sister’s little boy, Jackson McIlroy, was about the only thing that gave her a sense of fulfillment these days. With Caitlyn serving a medical internship at Johns Hopkins, and Caitlyn’s husband, Noah, running an increasingly busy family medicine practice here in town, Carrie had volunteered for day-care duty whenever they needed her. More and more often they’d come to rely on her, which suited her just fine, but seemed to be making everyone else in her driven family a little crazy. Babysitting wasn’t considered a suitable career goal for the granddaughter of the town’s founder.
She picked up a few more toys, put them in the brightly colored toy box she’d painted herself one particularly dreary winter day, then grabbed her purse and walked into town. Ten minutes later she was at O’Brien’s, the Irish pub her second cousin Luke had opened a few years back. She knew she’d find a good meal there, even if it came with a serving of family meddling from whichever O’Brien happened to be around.
When she walked in the door, she was startled to find it mostly empty.
“Hey, Carrie,” Luke said, automatically pouring a glass of white wine for her.
“Where is everybody?” she asked, as she settled on a stool in front of the magnificent old bar that Luke had found in Ireland and shipped home to be the centerpiece of his pub.
“It’s barely five o’clock,” he pointed out. “We’ll be filling up soon.”
Carrie glanced at her watch and groaned. Today—a day without the baby to watch—had been endless. Apparently it wasn’t close to being over, either.
“Can I ask you a question?” she said, as Luke polished glassware and readied the bar for this evening’s business.
He studied her face for a moment, then came around the bar and sat down beside her, giving her his full attention. “What’s on your mind?”
“You were the youngest in my mom’s generation, right?”
“Oh, yeah,” he confirmed.
“Did you feel pressured to accomplish something?”
He laughed. “Are you kidding me?”
“Not even a little bit,” she said seriously.
“You know all this, but let me remind you. By the time I finished college, your mom was a financial success story on Wall Street. Kevin had served in the military, then jumped onto the bandwagon to preserve the bay with Uncle Thomas. Connor was a hotshot divorce lawyer in Baltimore. Bree had opened a successful flower shop, then a local theater, where she’s now writing and directing to critical acclaim. And Jess was barely into her twenties and already turning the Inn at Eagle Point into a successful regional destination.”
He allowed that to sink in, then added, “That’s what I was up against. On top of that, my brother started working with Uncle Mick as an architect straight out of college, and my sister is all but running the real estate business here in town with my dad. O’Briens seemed to know what they wanted in the womb, all of them except me.”
“And me,” Carrie lamented. “Funny how you were the youngest and felt lost. Cait and I are the oldest in our generation. She recognized her destiny even before she got out of high school. She’s determined to be a doctor and save the world. Not even marriage and a baby have derailed her plans.”
Luke grinned. “And your goals aren’t that lofty?”
“I’m not sure I even have goals,” she admitted. “I thought I did. I enjoyed PR work well enough. I was good at it, too. And I liked being in the fashion industry, but that was more about being with Marc than the work. It didn’t break my heart when another job in fashion didn’t materialize right away. Working with him is what I miss most, so that must be telling me something.”
Luke studied her with a commiserating look. “Have you figured out the message?”
She shrugged. “Nope. All I know is that I hate being at loose ends.”
“What about that trip you took with Uncle Mick to Africa? Any inspiration there?”
Her grandparents had gone to Africa to check out several villages in dire need of medical help, especially since the outbreak of Ebola had had such a devastating impact. Mick had been drafted by Cait and a doctor in Baltimore into designing small medical facilities for the villages to provide the care they so desperately needed. It had been an eye-opening trip with an idealistic mission she admired.
“Sure. It made me realize how lucky we’ve all been. I’ve donated a ton of money from my trust fund to the cause because I’ve seen firsthand how worthwhile it is, but I don’t want to return, not the way Cait’s chomping at the bit to go. She was so envious that I got to go with Grandpa Mick and Grandma Megan. Me?” She shook her head. “I could hardly wait to get back home.”
“The States?”
“Not just the States, but here, back in Chesapeake Shores. I thought once I got here everything would magically become clear to me.”
Luke gave her a long, considering look. “Have you thought about staying here, Carrie? Really thought about it? I always knew this town was right for me. It was just about the only thing I did know, but you’ve lived in a lot of exciting cities—New York, Milan, Paris. Are you absolutely certain Chesapeake Shores is big enough for you?”
She frowned at the question, which seemed to suggest a shallowness she didn’t appreciate. She didn’t need glitz and glamour. She really didn’t. She’d had a taste of it. That had been enough.
“What do you mean?” she challenged. “This is home for me, Luke, the same as it is for you.”
“If you say so,” he said, his doubts still evident.
“I do say so.”
“You were born in New York,” he reminded her. “You went to college there, too, and traveled all over the world when you were working in fashion. I’ve only been to Ireland, where things were pretty laid-back, especially in the smaller villages, but I imagine the lifestyle here is very different from the glamorous places you’ve seen in France and Italy. It’s definitely a world away from the hustle and bustle of New York.”
Though her instinct was to counter Luke’s obvious skepticism with complete certainty, she took a sip of her wine and actually gave the question some thought.
“It is different, but in a good way,” she replied slowly, trying to put her gut feelings into words. “The pace is slower. The values are different. Family really counts for something. Mom saw that. She left New York and brought me and Caitlyn back here.”
“Because she was in love with Trace,” Luke said.
Carrie sighed. “Yes, Trace did play a big part in her decision, but she’s been happy being home. She’d tell you that. She’s figured out how to balance the career she loves and the family she loves even more.”
“Balance is important,” Luke agreed, then gave her another of his annoying long looks. “What do you envision doing with your life here? I know the ambition gene can’t possibly have skipped over you completely. All O’Briens have it.”
“Not me,” she admitted as if it were a crime. Luke was right about one thing—O’Briens were expected to be excellent multitaskers, and, despite her last name being Winters, she was an O’Brien through and through. Luke had brought the conversation full circle, right back to those goals that seemed to be eluding her. She’d been so blasted lucky her entire life. What right did she have to complain about an unexpected bump in the road?
“All I ever really wanted was to be a wife and mom,” she told her cousin. She made the admission in a hushed voice, as if it were some sort of crime to want so little for herself.
When Luke didn’t react as if she were crazy, she continued, “Gram was my role model. Nell made a real home for Mom and her siblings after Grandpa Mick and Grandma Megan split up. I always saw myself doing that same thing—cooking, baking, nurturing my kids—right here, surrounded by family. All through college I kept expecting to meet someone and fall in love. I practically made a career out of dating. I thought for sure I’d get a marriage license fifteen minutes after I picked up my diploma.”
She sighed again. “That was the plan, but it never happened. Then I met Marc and thought he was the one. Of course, he was the last man on earth who’d ever be happy in a small town, so I have no idea how I expected him to fit into my dream.”
“Ever heard of compromise?” Luke asked with a smile.
“From Marc? Not likely.”
“How about you?”
“For the right man, sure,” she said glibly, then wondered. “Okay, you’re right. I can’t settle. It would never work. I want what Mom and Trace have, what Bree has with Jake and Grandpa Mick has found with Grandma Megan now that they’re back together. I want the whole happily-ever-after thing.”
“So you can’t settle and you claim you don’t care about a career,” Luke summed up. “You have yourself a real dilemma.”
“Isn’t that what I’ve been trying to tell you?” she said in frustration.
“Maybe you need to focus, pick the area of your life that matters the most to you, the one over which you have some control.”
She smiled at that. O’Briens did love to control things. Her grandfather was a master at that and he’d instilled that stubborn, we’re-capable-of-anything streak in all of them.
“We’ve already concluded that I can’t control when or if the right man might come along, and I have no career goals, at least not the kind I’m passionate about,” she reminded him yet again.
“I think you’re making this too complicated,” Luke suggested. “Stop fretting about a career, if that’s not what you care about. Put it on the back burner. Get out there and start dating. There are single men in here every night of the week. I’ll fix you up. When was the last time you went on a date? The path to marriage generally starts with a first date.”
“So I’ve heard,” she said, though random dating didn’t appeal to her. She’d done that all through college to no avail. Besides, she’d sworn off men until she figured out how she’d been so wrong about Marc, how she’d misjudged his values and his feelings.
But Luke was right about one thing. She did need some sort of social life before she went completely stir-crazy. “How about this? I don’t want to be fixed up, but the next time I’m in here, if there’s a nice guy around, introduce us. Women and men can be friends, right? That’s not a bad starting point.”
“I have my doubts about men and women being pals, but it’s definitely a start,” Luke said. “I predict you’ll be married in no time, with a half dozen kids underfoot.”
As alluring as that image was, Carrie could see the downside. “Can you picture what Grandpa Mick will have to say about that? He loves all his grandchildren and great-grandchildren, but he expects more from us.”
“Forget your grandfather. This is about what you want. You know Nell will be on your side.”
Carrie smiled. “Sure she will, but she’ll be standing there all alone. Grandpa Mick will be horrified. So will just about everyone else. Even Mom and Trace will think I’m wasting my potential.”
“This is about you, though,” Luke argued. “And about what will make you happy. When it comes down to it, I think that’s what they truly want for all of us. As appalled as my dad was by the idea of this pub, he got on board when he saw how much it meant to me. Treat the whole marriage thing as if it were a job hunt. Interview applicants on a daily basis.”
Carrie gave him a chiding look. “You say that as if it’s perfectly simple to pluck the perfect man out of thin air or to identify him by getting him to answer a list of questions. Trust me, it’s not. Besides, where’s the magic in that?”
Her cousin chuckled. “Ah, so you want the magic, too?”
“Of course. And until I find it, I can’t very well sit around and do nothing. I still need a goal. Being idle isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I’m not suited for that, either.”
Luke’s expression turned thoughtful. While he pondered whatever he was pondering, Carrie sipped her wine.
“You’re babysitting for half the kids in the family, aren’t you?” he said eventually.
“Yes, but what’s your point? That’s not exactly a job.”
He gave her a long look. “Make it one.”
She frowned at the seemingly offhand suggestion, though it was evident Luke was warming to the idea. “What do you mean?” she pressed.
“You love kids. You don’t have any of your own on the immediate horizon.” He stared at her as if willing her to reach the same conclusion he had. When she remained silent, he added with a touch of impatience, “Consider opening a day care.”
Carrie immediately waved off the idea. “Come on, Luke. I can’t charge family for keeping an eye on their kids.”
“Why not? If you weren’t around, they’d be paying somebody else. I certainly charge them for their pints of ale when they come in here.”
“Not the same thing,” she insisted. “This is a business. We all understand that.”
He laughed. “And the day care could be your business,” he said. “Just something to think about. The town could use one. Moira was saying that to me not twenty-four hours ago. She said if we’re ever going to have kids, given our busy schedules and her traveling with her photography exhibits, we’ll need someone we trust to care for them. She flatly refuses to put a playpen in the corner and see our child raised in a bar.”
Carrie could just imagine Moira making that point very clear. From her very first introduction to the O’Briens in her native Ireland, Moira had never hesitated to express an opinion. It had earned her the nickname of Maddening Moira, until Luke had pleaded with all of them to drop it.
Luke gave her a grin. “Maybe when you’re totally focused on starting a business for yourself, the right man will suddenly appear. By then you may be so busy, you won’t even have time for him.”
“The way you were when Moira came along?” she said, recalling how he’d expected Moira to sit by patiently while he got the pub up and running. She’d taken exception to that.
“Exactly,” he admitted with a grimace. “Moira tried to get some sense through my hard head, but it was Nell who finally set me straight about waiting.”
“How? I never heard the story.”
“After Gram fell ill during the trip she and Dillon took to New York, she called Moira and me into her room at the hospital and told us to stop wasting time. She reminded us that we should never put off the things in life that really matter, that there’s never a perfect time for falling in love. I swear, even lying there in that hospital bed looking so blasted tiny and frail, she was a force to be reckoned with.”
“She still is,” Carrie said, then admitted, “It scares me to think what will happen when we lose her. She’s the bedrock of this family.”
“And to hear her tell it, she’s not going anywhere till she’s satisfied we’re all settled and content,” Luke replied. “With a whole slew of great-grandchildren around now, I think she’s planning on being with us for a while.”
“I hope so,” Carrie said softly.
Luke patted her shoulder as he stood up. “I need to get back to work. Just think about what I said. Maybe day care is the right fit for you, maybe not, but you won’t know until you’ve explored the possibility, the same as I figured out a pub was the right fit for me the first time I walked into one in Ireland and realized it could be the heart of a community. I found my true calling on that trip.”
“And Moira,” she said, smiling.
“And Moira,” he agreed.
After he’d gone into the kitchen to check in with his chef, Carrie sighed. Was there any merit to Luke’s idea? Or would it feel as if she was giving up on her own dream of having a family by surrounding herself with other people’s children? She was a great babysitter, a terrific aunt, but there was a whole lot more to running a day care, including more regulations than she’d ever had to deal with. Of course, she had taken a couple of early childhood development and child psychology classes in school. She’d been fascinated by the topics and she’d aced them. She might even have pursued more classes back then, if she hadn’t gotten a PR internship and gravitated in that direction.
She thought of all the O’Brien kids who were underfoot on a regular basis and smiled. They were the best part of her life, no question about that. Could she turn that into a career?
Just as Luke had suggested, it was something worth considering. She certainly didn’t have an alternative in mind and she needed to do something before her family lost patience and she lost her mind wrestling with all this indecisiveness.
* * *
Sam glanced in the rearview mirror and saw that his nephew had finally fallen asleep. He breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure which was worse, the long silences when Bobby said nothing at all or the string of unanswerable questions that had been thrown at Sam ever since his sister and brother-in-law had been killed in an accident two weeks earlier. The discovery that Bobby was being placed in his care had shocked him into silence, for sure. It was little wonder it had left the six-year-old thoroughly confused.
And now, here they were driving into Chesapeake Shores, a town where Sam hadn’t even had time to get himself settled before learning about the tragedy that had taken Bobby’s parents. He’d left his new job as a grieving brother, his only thoughts focused on getting through the funeral. Now he was returning as a single parent with so many thoughts and fears swirling in his head, he had no idea which needed to be tackled first. He’d put his own grief on the back burner so he could stay focused on the scared little boy suddenly in his care.
“Dinner,” he muttered under his breath. Whenever Bobby awakened, he’d be starving. The one thing Sam did know was that he couldn’t go on feeding the boy nothing but fast food, the only thing that seemed to tempt Bobby to eat. Fortunately fast food was in short supply in Chesapeake Shores, which didn’t have a chain restaurant in town. The closest McDonald’s or Burger King was miles away.
Instead of heading straight to the Inn at Eagle Point, where he’d been staying since his arrival in town, Sam turned onto Shore Road and found a parking spot across from several local restaurants, including O’Brien’s, a pub that specialized in traditional Irish comfort food. Wasn’t that exactly what he and Bobby both needed? Something comforting and filling?
Exiting the car, he hesitated. Did he have to wake Bobby just so he could run in, order some food and run back across the street? It was early enough that the street was mostly deserted. The shops had closed, so few tourists were lingering along the waterfront, and it was too early for most people to be heading out for dinner. And it was, after all, Chesapeake Shores, a town without any significant crime except for the occasional high school prank.
Even as Sam opened the back door of the car, he could hear Bobby’s soft snores. The boy looked so peaceful; it seemed a shame to wake him. Convincing himself his nephew would never be out of sight, he jogged across the street and went inside, grabbing a menu off the bar, then moving back to the doorway while he glanced through the offerings. Irish stew was the day’s special. That sounded healthy and filling. And how long could it possibly take to dish it into a container so Sam could be on his way?
After one more glance to reassure himself that Bobby hadn’t awakened, he returned to the bar, only to find no one there to take his order. In fact, the only person in the place was a young woman, her expression glum as she stared into a glass of wine she’d barely touched.
“What’s a man have to do to get some service in here?” he asked irritably.
The woman’s responding frown was likely justified, but Sam couldn’t worry about the impression he might be making. He had a child outside and way too much on his mind.
“Sorry,” she said in a cool, polite tone. “My cousin had to go in back to speak to the chef. He’ll be right out, I’m sure.”
“You don’t work here?”
“No, but if you’re in a hurry, I can get Luke.”
Sam nodded. “Please. Or can you just tell him I’d like two orders of the Irish stew to go?” He hesitated. “Do you think a six-year-old would like that?”
Her expression brightened. “Sure. It’s great. All the kids in our family love it. I’ll give Luke your order. He’ll fix you right up.”
Sam couldn’t help noticing the sexy high heels she was wearing when she slid off her bar stool. Those shoes drew attention to long, shapely legs. He didn’t know a lot about fashion, but he had a feeling she hadn’t bought them at the discount store out on the main highway. In fact, her entire outfit, as casual as it was, seemed to shout that it had come from a designer, not off the rack. A rich tourist, perhaps, though she did seem to be totally comfortable in here. And hadn’t she referred to the owner or the bartender as her cousin?
Sam didn’t have time to try to put the puzzle pieces together. He sure as heck didn’t have time to allow his curiosity to be stirred by a beautiful woman. His life had recently gotten more complicated than he could ever have imagined. Right now, he needed to get his food and get back to Bobby.
Once more, he went back to the door and glanced across the street. There was no sign that Bobby was stirring and nobody was standing beside the car looking alarmed that a child had been left alone inside. That didn’t mean Sam could be gone for much longer. The last thing he wanted was for Bobby to awaken, find himself alone and panic.
Pacing impatiently, he was startled when the woman appeared at his side, obviously on her way out.
“Your food’s on the way,” she said as she opened the door.
A light floral scent that reminded him of summer nights was left in her wake as she passed him, then headed across the street.
Sam saw the exact moment when she spotted Bobby. She stopped beside the car, did a double take, then turned back to give Sam a look that could have melted steel. She whirled around on those spike heels of hers and marched straight back in his direction.
The pub’s door slammed open and she stood before him.
“That’s your car?”
Sam nodded, a flush crawling up his face.
“You left your son in the car all alone? What were you thinking?” she demanded indignantly. “This may be a safe town, but no place is 100 percent safe. Plus it can get hot inside in practically no time, especially on a sunny day like this.”
Even though he knew she was probably justified in her indignation, Sam stared her down.
“Why is this your business?”
“Because innocent children need to be protected from irresponsible parents.”
“I’m not his parent,” Sam retorted, though not only was that not entirely true, he knew it was also hardly the point. He’d been a parent for about a nanosecond. He was still getting the hang of it. “He’s my nephew.”
Since her harsh stare didn’t waver at that, he found himself explaining. “His parents died in an accident two weeks ago. I’m just bringing him here to live with me. You’ll have to forgive me if I thought letting him finally get some rest was more important than dragging him over here to wait with me while I get some food. He was never out of my sight, was he? And the windows are all cracked, so there’s air circulating. Didn’t you see me standing right here by the door keeping an eye on him?”
“I suppose,” she said, backing down, but sparks still flashed in her eyes. “You can’t take chances with a child’s safety. Things can happen in the blink of an eye.”
“I’m well aware of that, probably more so than you are,” he said. “That’s what happened to my sister and brother-in-law. They were gone in the blink of an eye. Nobody could have anticipated that. And I sure as heck didn’t anticipate becoming a dad overnight.”
She faltered at that, her cheeks turning pink. “I’m sorry. Look, just go back to the car, okay? I’ll bring your food out as soon as it’s ready. It’ll make us both feel better if he’s not over there alone.”
Sam started to argue, then gave in. He pulled a couple of twenties from his wallet and gave them to her. “I’m not sure how much the bill will be, but this should cover it.”
She handed back one of the twenties. “This will do. I’m going to have Luke put some chocolate-chip cookies in with your order. They’re not on the menu, but he keeps them on hand for the kids in our family. They’re my great-grandmother’s recipe. She bakes once a week and brings them over here. She leaves a supply at my house, too, since most of the kids are in and out of there, too.”
The thought of home-baked cookies triggered a longing in Sam, one he hadn’t even realized he’d buried deep inside. “My grandmother used to do the same thing. She baked for the whole family. She’s been gone for years, but I still remember the way her kitchen smelled.”
A smile spread across the woman’s face at last. “There’s nothing like it, is there? Don’t ever tell Nell, if you happen to meet her, but I bake, too, just so my house will smell like that when the kids come by. I want to be the go-to aunt or cousin or neighbor when it comes to cookies.”
She shooed him toward the door. “Go. I’ll be over with your food in just a minute.”
Sam dutifully left the pub and crossed the street. He stood beside the car and waited for the woman to emerge with his order. At least he told himself his gaze was so intense because his stomach was rumbling, but the truth was, he wanted another glimpse of her. She was a mass of contradictions with her fancy clothes and home-baked cookies, the lost expression he’d caught on her face when he first noticed her sitting at the bar, and her fiery indignation when she’d found Bobby alone in the car.
Contradictions like that, though, usually meant trouble. And these days Sam had more of that than he could possibly handle.
