Sherryl Woods - The Summer Garden

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. “That they’d be good together. Wouldn’t it be lovely if something came of it after all this time?”

“It would,” Dillon agreed. “Your mother deserves to find some happiness. She wasn’t always bitter and sad the way she’s been since your dad took off.”

“I know. I see glimpses of it from time to time. Do you suppose she and I can make peace?” she asked, her tone plaintive.

“She and I have,” he said. “So there’s always hope. We’ll see if tonight can give us a start on that.”

In fact, he vowed to do his part to give things a push in that direction. He had a feeling that if Moira was to find her own happiness—with Luke or someone else—she needed to believe she was worthy of love. Circumstances and Kiera’s own bitterness had done their part to rob her of that self-confidence. It was past time to fix that, too. For a man his age, it seemed he still had a lot to accomplish.

Peter refused to let Moira wait on a single table while her mother and grandfather were in the pub.

“Enjoy your family,” he said. “Bask in their admiration.”

She would have, but she was too nervous. As Dillon and Kiera circled the room, pausing in front of the photos, Moira waited behind the bar, polishing mugs despite Peter’s best efforts to get her to stop hiding out. She couldn’t help noticing that Peter seemed almost as anxious about their reactions as she was.

“Well?” he prodded, when they finally headed back toward the bar. “Is she as amazing as I think?”

“I’m stunned,” Kiera said, a smile on her face. “Moira, they’re truly remarkable.”

Moira flushed at the praise. “Do you mean that?”

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t,” her mother insisted, then glanced briefly at Peter. “Thank you for encouraging her.” She looked away almost the instant the words were out of her mouth.

“It’s been my pleasure,” Peter said, his gaze on Kiera steady, despite her doing her best to avoid it. “I would have done the same for anyone, but it’s meant more that it was your daughter I was helping.”

The color in her mother’s cheeks heightened at his words. So, Moira thought, her mum wasn’t immune to him, after all.

She slipped out from behind the bar and tucked her arm through her grandfather’s, then steered him away from the others to stand in front of one of the photos. “You haven’t said much.”

“You’ve left me speechless,” he admitted. “I feel as if I know those people, not as I always have, but as if I’ve had a glimpse inside them. This is more than a hobby, Moira. You’ve a talent you should be nurturing.”

Tears stung her eyes. “You have no idea what it means to me to have you say that. I’m almost starting to believe I could make a go of this.”

“Then it’s something you truly want?”