LITMIR.BIZ

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me wanting more and more for our children, a job he hated, needing to come home at night rather than spending his time and money in a pub. He wasn’t meant to be a family man. He liked things easy. In truth, the only surprise wasn’t that he left, but that it took him so long.”

       Moira felt an odd sense of relief at that, but then thought about what her mum had actually revealed. She couldn’t help wondering if the same mind-set applied to Luke. It was hardly the first time such a thought had crossed her mind.

       “Does Luke remind you of Dad?” she asked. “Is that really why you’re so worried about my going over there?”

       To her dismay, her mother nodded. “I see some similarities, yes. And hearing that’s he’s opening a pub?” She shook her head. “It brings back too many memories of the pull such places had for your father.”

       “Was Dad a drinker, then?” Moira asked.

       Her mother nodded. “He had a problem. I didn’t see it when we met, because all our friends liked to have a pint or two and enjoy the music on a Friday or Saturday night. It was only later, after we were married, that he spent more and more time with his mates and came home reeling. I can’t tell you how often we argued about it. Ask your brothers. They’re old enough to remember some of it, I’m sure, though we’ve never spoken of it.”

       “And isn’t that our way?” Moira said with a touch of bitterness. “To never speak of the things that matter? How many years did it take before you even acknowledged we had grandparents living in Dublin? It was only when your mother became ill and Grandfather came looking for you that we discovered we had family.”

       Kiera sighed heavily. “You’re right again,” she conceded. “I’m sorry.”

       Moira found herself apologizing as well. “But Luke’s not like Dad in that way—a drinker, I mean,” she said earnestly. “I know he’s not. In all that time we spent together and in so many different pubs, he rarely had anything to drink. He was totally focused on his research. It wasn’t about the drinking, not at all.”

       “He wouldn’t be the first man to open a pub so he’d have a ready excuse for being around alcohol,” Kiera said.

       Though Moira understood that it was Kiera’s own experiences that had shaped her opinion, Moira still found it worrisome. She believed her defense of Luke and seized on Peter McDonough to prove it. “I’ve never seen Peter lift even a pint of ale during the course of an evening,” she said. “How long has he owned that pub? Twenty years? Even longer?”

       “Peter’s a paragon, he is,” Kiera said wryly. “Your grandfather has told me that often enough.”

       Moira couldn’t hide her shock at the innuendo. “Grandfather has been encouraging something between you and Peter? For how long?”

       “Since I was in my teens,” Kiera admitted. “He was cited as the epitome of respectability, which I stupidly ignored in my pursuit of rebellion. Now that my marriage is over, his name is dropped into the conversation every chance your grandfather can find. Didn’t you notice how many times it was suggested we drop in at McDonough’s over the holidays?”

       Moira tried to imagine a romance between her mother and Peter. Surprisingly, she could see it, though she wasn’t sure she could explain just why. Maybe it had to do with Peter’s easygoing nature, his willingness to meet people as they were and enjoy their company. Had he spent more time than usual hovering over the family when they’d made those holiday stops? Had the extra attention been about more than respect for her grandfather? As Luke had done with Moira, Peter had certainly been able to ignore Kiera’s stubborn testiness and find ways to coax her into laughter. He’d even gotten her onto the dance floor a time or two, fighting off her reluctance with teasing determination.

       “Peter’s been very kind to me,” she said, testing to see her mother’s reaction.

       Kiera frowned. “In what way?”

       Moira explained about the photos. “Maybe you could come by while I’m at work tonight and see them for yourself.”

       “Peter says they’re good?” Kiera asked.

       Moira nodded. “And the proof seems to be that people have been showing an interest in hiring me. I’ve already had one job, and more are lined up for my return from this trip with Grandfather. Enough that I might not have to wait tables for too much longer.”

       “Then why on earth would you pick now to leave town?” Kiera asked, looking more animated and approving than usual. “Shouldn’t you stay right here and make the most of this opportunity? You’ve been talking about photography for years. I thought nothing would ever come of it.”

       “I honestly didn’t know how to make anything happen,” Moira said. “But Peter did. And he says this trip won’t harm anything. He’ll keep track of any potential bookings for me. Please, Mum, come by and take a look.”

       “Of course I will,” she said.

       Moira nodded. It would give her the chance to see if there were any sparks there between her mum and Peter, sparks that could be fanned a bit.

       Kiera gave her a knowing look. “Don’t be getting any ideas,” she warned. “This is about looking at your pictures and only that.”

       “I understand,” Moira replied dutifully.

       “I don’t need you joining your grandfather in meddling in my life.”

       “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Moira said.

       But the truth was, she thought maybe her mum was protesting just a little too much. Surely, after all these years of being a struggling single mother, Kiera wasn’t totally immune to the possibility of love.

       Dillon had had his share of surprises through the years, but none had startled him more than the invitation by his granddaughter to join her and his daughter at McDonough’s pub on the evening before their departure for Chesapeake Shores.

       “What’s this about?” he asked Moira when she called. “Usually it takes all my persuasive skills to get your mum to set foot inside that place.”

       “There’s the lure of seeing some of my photos on the walls,” Moira told him. “I’d like you to see them, too. I know you’ve been too busy to stop in since Peter hung them up.”

       He heard the hint of nervousness in her voice and knew these pictures meant more to her than she wanted him to know. “Peter’s told me about them, you know. He thinks you’ve a real gift.”

       “He’s told you that?” she asked, sounding pleased.

       “And he wouldn’t lie to an old friend,” Dillon reassured her. “Nor would he say anything to you if he didn’t have faith in your work. I’ll be looking forward to seeing them for myself. I only wish you’d expressed an interest in this a long time ago. I would have encouraged you.”

       “Things happen when they’re meant to,” she replied. “Isn’t that what you’ve told me about you and Nell reuniting after all these years?”

       “True enough.”

       She fell uncharacteristically silent, which encouraged him to ask, “Was there something else on your mind?”

       “Is it true that you’ve been matchmaking between my mum and Peter?”

       Dillon chuckled. “Ah, she told you that, did she? It’s true. I always thought they were well suited. Of course, that was the kiss of death back when they were young. If I said there was a pot of gold to the north, your mum would head south just to spite me.”

       Moira laughed. “And you think she’s changed?”

       “No, which is why I’ll be keeping my mouth firmly shut tonight,” he said. “If there’s any matchmaking to be done, I’ll leave it to you.”

       “I can see it, too,” she confessed.

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