Sherryl Woods - The Summer Garden

Back at the bar, she drew the picture of Luke from her pocket once more and smiled. She’d done exactly that in this shot of Luke at his carefree, charming best.

“What’s that?” Peter asked, glancing over her shoulder, then recognizing Luke from the time he’d spent in the pub asking questions and filling in behind the bar. “Ah, you’ve caught the essence of Luke, that’s for sure.” His expression turned thoughtful. “Have you taken others?”

“Sure. Why?”

“Could you do the same thing in here, perhaps snap some pictures of the regulars? We could frame them and hang them on the walls.”

She regarded him with astonishment. “Seriously?” It was the first time anyone had even hinted that she was good enough at photography to do more than take snapshots for her own enjoyment.

“You’ve been coming around here with your grandfather for years. Have you ever known me not to be serious when it comes to this business?” he asked. “I think it will add something special to the place.” He shrugged. “Who knows? It might also bring you a few customers who’d like you to take pictures for their family events.”

Moira hesitated. Was she really good enough for that? Was that even something she wanted? She heard Luke’s voice in her head, encouraging her to take chances, to reach for things she found truly satisfying.

“I’ll do it,” she told Peter, feeling a faint stirring of excitement. “No charge for you, of course. We’ll just see how they turn out.”

“If you take them, I’ll pay for them,” her boss insisted. “You’ll have to be setting your rates now, won’t you?” He grinned. “And then you can give me a generous first-time customer discount.”

She laughed. “Deal.”

A day that had started out in a very dreary way had taken a definite turn for the better. And to think it was her snapshot of Luke that had made that happen. Even from such a long distance, it seemed he was her good-luck charm. If only he were a little closer, Moira thought, she could thank him in person. At least tonight she could send him an email with something exciting to report from her own life, something that might engage him in the sort of exchange they’d had so often during his visit.

Jeff O’Brien regarded his younger son with dismay. “A pub? Are you serious?”

“I am,” Luke said, keeping his gaze level and not backing down under Jeff’s blatant skepticism.

“But why? You have a college degree. Why not put it to good use? You could teach history at the high school.”

“Me? In a classroom? I’d lose my freaking mind,” Luke replied.

Jeff smiled at the adamant response. “Sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. Even as the words were coming out of my mouth, I realized it was a bad fit. You played hooky every chance you got, didn’t you? How many times was your mother hauled out of her classroom or I was called in from work to bail you out of a jam with the principal? I doubt you’d be any happier at the front of the room. You were never fond of routines and predictability.”

“Exactly,” Luke said, then leaned forward earnestly. “I know this isn’t anything we ever talked about, Dad, but the minute the pieces started falling into place, it felt right. I don’t know if it was being in Ireland and really connecting with my Irish roots, or what Mack said about my being a good listener, or maybe both together, but for the first time I thought, this is something I can do, something I can be really excited about.”

Jeff heard that excitement in his son’s voice and, though he had a thousand reservations, he didn’t want to be the one to put a damper on his enthusiasm. Still, he couldn’t help expressing caution.

“Businesses come and go in this town,” he warned. “And the start-up costs money. Where will you find it?”

Luke hesitated, then admitted, “I was thinking I could sell the waterfront land on Beach Lane that you’ve been holding for me.”

Jeff regarded him with dismay. “Not an option,” he said flatly. “That land is worth a fortune and I held on to it so you could build a home of your own one day, not as an investment for you to sell on a whim.”

“It’s not a whim, Dad. I’ve needed a goal and finally I have one.”

“You’ll regret selling it,” Jeff predicted. “Find another way.”

“I don’t want to start off mired down with loans,” Luke told him. “Please, Dad, just think about it. You’ve always said the land was to be mine. Doesn’t that suggest I should be able to do with it whatever I want to do?”

“First, tell me how you plan to weather the slow winters. Have you even considered that?”

“Of course. I’ve even discussed it with Laila and she agrees that it’s a solid plan.”

Jeff stilled at that. “You’ve told your sister-in-law about all this?”

Luke winced, his expression immediately guilty. “I did. I wanted her financial input. How could I come to you without knowing my plan was solid?”

Jeff accepted the logic of that, but he wasn’t entirely pacified. “Then I assume Matthew knows as well?”

“And Uncle Mick and Connor,” Luke admitted. “I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t intend for them to find out before I spoke to you, but you know how it is around this town. Uncle Mick has big eyes and even bigger ears. He saw Matthew and me on Shore Road the other night, then dragged Connor, Megan and Heather along to dinner with us. The next thing I knew, they were all in on it. I made them promise to keep quiet until I could speak to you myself.”

Jeff tried not to let his annoyance show. After all, it was true that his older brother saw everything and stuck his nose where it didn’t belong more often than not.

“And Mick approves?” he asked.

Luke nodded. “He does, but his opinion doesn’t matter more than yours, Dad. He was just there and you weren’t. I’m coming to you now.”

“But you’ve already decided to move forward, haven’t you? Other than getting me to let you sell that land, this is little more than a courtesy call.” Jeff hated that he was unable to hide his bitterness more effectively. It had always been this way between him and Mick, a rivalry that never ended, no matter their mother’s attempts to keep peace. It shouldn’t be that way between brothers—and thank God he’d avoided it happening with his sons—but he, Thomas and Mick could spar over the color of the sky.

Luke looked chagrined. “It’s not like that, Dad. Not at all. My mind has been made up for a few weeks now, since Ireland, in fact. I just wanted to get all the pieces together before I shared them with anyone. I never meant to slight you or suggest that your opinion doesn’t matter. You do know I respect you, right?”

Jeff fought off feelings that had less to do with Luke than they did with Mick, and nodded. “Of course, son. And though I have some concerns, I’ll support you in this. Whatever you need, I’m behind you. Though I want you to think long and hard before you decide to sell land that you’ll never be able to replace.”

“I promise to look for other options first,” Luke said, then gave him a sly look. “Does your backing include giving me a break on the rent for the property on Shore Road? I’m thinking a deal is in order. It’s been sitting empty for a few months now. Better to have a reliable tenant in there at a bargain price than to have prime property vacant when the summer season kicks off.”

Jeff let go of the last of his annoyance. “With clever thinking like that, you’ll do just fine, son. I’ll look over the numbers and get back to you.”

Looking relieved, Luke nodded. “Thank you.” He hesitated, then asked, “And we’re okay?”

Jeff hated that his son even had to ask. “Of course we’re okay. I’m always on your side, Luke.” Now it was his turn to hesitate. “Who’s going to do the cooking in this pub of yours? Last time I checked, your skill in the kitchen ran to frying eggs into charcoal.”