Sherryl Woods - The Summer Garden

“I’d feel better if you had the measurements to back that up.”

“Then I’ll drive to the port in Baltimore and get them,” Luke said grimly, heading for the sink to wash his sticky, flour-coated hands.

Gram gestured for him to return to the task at hand, then turned a pointed look on his brother. “Or Matthew could call this man back and ask him to take the measurements,” she said, then added, “Since you’re so worried about it, shouldn’t you have asked when you had him on the phone?”

Matthew leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “You always took Luke’s side over mine. It’s because he’s the youngest, isn’t it? You love him best.”

Gram rolled her eyes. “Nonsense, and I am not taking anyone’s side. I’m just trying to get these scones made so they’re edible. Right now your brother is trying to pound that dough into submission.”

Luke sighed. “I think baking may be beyond me, Gram.”

“Nothing is beyond you,” she insisted. “Start over.”

Luke stared at her. “You want me to start from scratch?”

“Only way I know to learn,” she said blithely. “Matthew, if you intend to stick around, put on an apron and get busy. It wouldn’t hurt you to learn how to make something. You never know when Luke will need backup in the kitchen. In this family we pull together in a crisis, no matter what kind it is.”

“But that’s why he has you,” Matthew protested, already heading for the door. “Love you, Gram. Good luck with those scones, Luke. I’ll go make that call.”

Luke wished he had the nerve to go after his brother, but he was the one who’d asked for these cooking lessons. Gram clearly intended to see that he was a master Irish chef before she was through with him. He gave her a plaintive look now.

“Isn’t there some way to salvage this dough?” he asked.

She shook her head. “It’ll be too tough. Bake up a few and compare them. You’ll see what I mean.” She picked up a catalog that had come in the mail and fanned herself.

Luke regarded her worriedly. “Are you okay?”

“Just a little warm,” she said, her breath hitching slightly, as if she couldn’t quite catch it. “It’s sitting in here with the oven on. I should have opened the windows first.”

“I’ll do it,” Luke said at once, then took another look at her flushed cheeks. “Are you sure that’s all it is, Gram? You seem a little short of breath.”

She gave him a defiant look. “Don’t be ridiculous. Now get back to work. I don’t have all day to spend on this. I have preparations of my own to make. There will be a crowd here in a few days to welcome Dillon to town. I want to get most of the food done early, so I’ll be able to relax and enjoy the party.”

“You know everyone would be happy to pitch in and help,” he protested. “Don’t wear yourself out.”

“We both know there’s not another soul in this family who cooks as well as I do,” she countered. “And I won’t have Jess asking Gail at the inn to cater a meal for us, not on Dillon’s first night in town.” She gave him a wry look. “And though you’re improving, you’re not up to the task yet, either.”

Luke smiled at her. “You’re really looking forward to his visit, aren’t you?”

This time he had the feeling that the blush in her cheeks had nothing to do with being overheated. “I am,” she admitted. She hesitated, then said, “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course.”

“I’m going to do everything in my power to convince him to stay right here,” she said, defiant sparks in her eyes. “I imagine Mick will have a thing or two to say about that, but it’s my decision. And Dillon’s, of course.”

Luke knew his own surprise was nothing compared to the tizzy Uncle Mick would have over this news. He tried to tread carefully. “Have you and Dillon already discussed it? I thought the plan was for you both to travel back and forth.”

“Plans sometimes have to change,” she said, her voice turning sad. “I think Christmas was probably my last visit to Ireland.”

Once again Luke had the sense that there was much more to the story that she wasn’t telling him. “Gram, what’s going on?”

After only the faintest flicker of despondency on her face, something so brief he couldn’t even be sure he’d seen it, her expression brightened. “Not a thing,” she said. “I’m just being realistic. It’s a long way to go at my age.”

“Are you sure Dillon will want to pack up and leave the life he’s always known?”

“I’m certain of only one thing,” she said, giving him a pointed look. “The only way to know a thing like that is to ask, and I intend to do just that. It’s advice you might consider taking to heart.”

Though the obvious inference would have been to assume she was talking about the call she’d advised him to make to determine the measurements of the bar, Luke knew better. It was her subtle way of reminding him not to wait too long to ask Moira to be a part of his life.

What bothered him wasn’t that she’d made the suggestion, but the urgency he sensed behind it and behind her own plan to invite Dillon to stay. Something was wrong, and he knew in his gut he needed to find out what it was. What he didn’t know was how he was going to pull that off without offending his grandmother’s independent spirit.

Everyone in the family credited Jo O’Brien with being the most practical, sensible O’Brien aside from Nell. Luke was still in awe of how well his mother had handled Susie’s ovarian cancer and kept everyone else from falling apart. He concluded that she was his best bet to get to the bottom of what was going on with his grandmother.

She was easy enough to track down. After school, where she was both a teacher and a women’s track coach, she was usually at practice with her team. Luke found her standing at the edge of the track with a stopwatch in one hand and a whistle in the other. With her hair caught up in a messy ponytail and dressed in jeans and a hoodie on the cool early May afternoon, she looked little older than her students.

“Hey, Mom!” he called out as he joined her.

Barely taking her eyes off the track for more than a split second, she gave him a smile. “What brings you by? I thought you were swamped getting the pub ready to open.”

“I am, but I need to talk to you. Can you spare a couple of minutes? If not now, could you drop by the pub when you’re finished here?”

She must have heard something in his voice, because she blew her whistle to get the attention of the girls. “That’s it, ladies. It was a good practice. Take your showers and head on home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When they were finally on their way, she gestured toward the bleachers, then followed Luke over. “What’s up?”

“I’m worried about Gram,” he blurted. “Something’s going on with her, and I don’t think she’s told anyone about it.”

His mother regarded him with surprise. “Are you sure? She’s seemed fine to me when I’ve seen her the past few Sundays.”

“She can put on a good show for a couple of hours,” he said. “I’ve been spending more time with her lately. She’s said a couple of things. When I called her on one of them, she told me I wasn’t to blab.”

“And yet here you are,” Jo said. “Since I know you wouldn’t break your word lightly, what exactly has happened?”

He told her about the casual mention of blood pressure medicine, then today’s incident, when Nell had seemed overheated and short of breath. “It doesn’t sound like much when I say it, but that’s not all. She was talking about wanting Dillon to stay on here, about not being able to make another trip to Ireland herself. She sounded—I don’t know—resigned or something.”