Читать книгу Lilac Lane - Sherryl Woods, Sherryl Woods - Страница 9

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, feeling 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.

It was Megan who caught sight of her first.

“Oh my, look at you,” she said, coming over to clasp Kiera’s icy hands. “You look fabulous, Kiera.” She turned to the rest of the family. “Doesn’t she?”

“I would hardly have recognized you,” Mick said. “I like the new hairstyle. It becomes you.”

Jo beamed. “I need someone to take me in hand, as Moira did for you. I haven’t had a makeover in years and I am in sad need of one. Being on the athletic field at the high school all day long wreaks havoc with my skin and my hair. Kiera, you’re putting all of the O’Brien women to shame with this new look of yours.” She grinned at Megan. “Well, perhaps not her. Megan has always been stylish from head to toe.”

“It’s those trips to Paris I insist Mick take me on,” Megan replied. “I sit in cafés and observe what the French women are wearing, then adapt it for Chesapeake Shores. I think I’ve learned to knot scarves in at least twenty different ways.”

“And I always thought there was only one way,” Jo said ruefully.

Kiera was happy to have their attention diverted from her for the moment and fascinated by the teasing between the sisters-in-law. It continued to astonish her how well the O’Briens meshed as a family, despite differences in styles, opinions and personalities.

Luke beckoned Kiera over to the bar. “I need a closer look at this transformation,” he said. “Is this the same woman I saw polishing my bar just last night?”

“Okay, okay,” Kiera said, laughing at last. “I’m flattered by all the attention, but I wouldn’t mind a pint of ale right about now. Is the service in here falling apart without me on the job?”

“Happy to oblige,” Luke said at once. “And what about some dinner? You and Moira must be starved after your long day. The special tonight is shepherd’s pie.”

One of my favorites, Kiera thought to herself. She couldn’t help wondering if Bryan had the knack for it, since it hadn’t been on the menu since her arrival.

“You stay right here,” she told Luke. “I’ll get plates for myself and Moira.”

Before he could stop her, she walked around the bar and entered the kitchen. “Two shepherd pie dinners,” she called out.

Bryan’s head swiveled so quickly in her direction, she was surprised it didn’t make him dizzy. Then his mouth gaped in a most startling and complimentary way.

“Kiera?” he said, his voice oddly choked.

“Yes. Who else would be barging into the kitchen like this?”

His gaze narrowed. “You look different.”

“After the money Moira spent today, I would hope so,” she said tartly, then gave him a hesitant look. “Is it a good difference?”

His lips curved slightly at the apparent hint of insecurity in her voice. “You look softer, more approachable,” he said, though he sounded as if that was more troublesome than it should have been.

“Ten years younger, that’s what the stylist claimed,” she said. “Of course, she wanted to be sure of a tip.”

“I don’t know about that,” Bryan said. “You looked fine before.” He seemed to be fumbling for words. “But don’t all women want to look younger?”

Kiera studied him curiously. There was something oddly charming about his obvious nervousness. Usually he was brusque to the point of rudeness. If there was something about her look tonight, there was also something very different in Bryan’s reaction to her. She wished she could put her finger on it, but perhaps it was better that she couldn’t put a name to it. That might shift the nervousness straight to her.

* * *

“What took you so long?” Moira asked when Kiera finally returned to take her seat at the bar.

“Bryan wasn’t giving you a rough time, was he?” Luke asked worriedly. “Or you him?”

“Not at all,” Kiera said, placing two plates of shepherd’s pie on the bar. It looked just fine, and the aroma was as tempting as any she’d eaten before. “I’m anxious to give this a try. Moira, have a taste and see if it’s like what we get back home.”

“I’ve had it before,” Moira said. “It’s as delicious as any I’ve ever had, except perhaps that you’ve made yourself. The only dish you make that’s any better is your Irish stew. I have to warn you, though, Bryan’s Irish stew has become a favorite here. He takes great pride in it, as does Nell, who taught him how to make it.”

Leaving the Irish stew debate for another time, Kiera took a bite of the shepherd’s pie and nodded, pleasantly surprised that it seemed authentic. Not bad for a man who’d once been making sandwiches in a deli.

“Does it pass muster?” Luke asked.

“It does,” Kiera said. “It’s quite good, in fact.”

“And will you tell Bryan that yourself? I know it would please him.”

“Bryan’s ego needs no boost from me,” Kiera said, not sure why the thought of praising his cooking felt too much like eating crow.

Luke kept his gaze on her steady. “For the sake of harmony,” he suggested.

“Fine, then,” she said grudgingly. “I’ll tell him.” She rose to do just that before she lost the will, but Luke waved her back to her seat.

“After you’ve finished. A clean plate will speak volumes, too,” he told her. “Bryan might not show it, but he could use a bit of reassurance from you from time to time. Nell sings his praises, but that’s become commonplace. You’re a new test for him and one he’s not entirely sure he’s passing. He feels as if you’re judging him each time you walk into the kitchen.”

Kiera was confused. “Isn’t that what I’m here for? To find areas that need improvement?”

“Absolutely,” Luke said quickly. “And I’m sure Bryan would welcome a suggestion here and there. Have you shared your thoughts with him?”

Kiera thought of how she’d been handling things and realized she’d felt constrained by her lack of real standing. She’d observed and judged, but mostly kept her opinions to herself, storing them up for the time when she’d feel free to speak her mind. She could see now how that silence might make Bryan feel uneasy. He’d probably prefer a tart comment or two to the silence.

“I’ll try to do better at making him feel at ease,” she said, thinking of the hint of nervousness she’d noticed for the first time earlier. Perhaps she had inadvertently thrown him off his game. That had never been her intention, but they did seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot. There was no denying that.

“I’d appreciate that,” Luke said, clearly satisfied by her response.

“I’ve been cautious about speaking up till now, but if I’m to be honest and more candid with him, then I can’t hold back my opinion when I think he’s gotten it wrong,” Kiera warned.

A smile tugged at her son-in-law’s lips. “I wouldn’t dream of asking you to,” he said. “That would be as wasted an effort as asking the wind not to blow.”

Kiera laughed. It would, indeed.