A Chesapeake Shores Christmas (10 page)

Phillip looked stunned. “You’re going home to play granny?”

Megan frowned at his characterization. “I’m not going to be playing anything. I
am
a grandmother.”

“Megan, it was one thing when you said you were going to marry Mick and open your own art gallery. That’s all about the man you’ve always loved and a career you’re passionate about.
This
—glorified babysitting—it’s just not you. How can I let you do it?”

“You don’t really have a choice,” she said tightly. “It’s my decision. I will do whatever I can today to help you find a replacement and leave things in order for him or her, but I’m going back home tonight, Phillip. That’s final.”

“I think you’re going to regret it,” he declared. “And what about your gallery? And the wedding?”

“In due time,” she said evasively.

He scowled at her answer. “Meaning you’ve put them on hold?”

“Only temporarily,” she insisted.

“And what does Mick have to say about this? He doesn’t strike me as a patient man.”

“He doesn’t have a say,” she said, then realized just how much she sounded exactly like Mick. She, too, seemed to be making decisions without regard for the man she claimed to love.

Phillip looked as startled by her response as she was. “And how does he feel about that?”

She sighed. “No better than I do when he does the same thing to me,” she admitted. “But that’s another reason I need to be in Chesapeake Shores. If things are going to work out for us, we need to figure out a better way to communicate. Right now we both seem to be issuing a lot of edicts.”

Phillip’s gaze narrowed. “Trouble in paradise?”

She frowned at the hopeful note in his voice. “Stop it. Mick and I will get married.”

“We’ll see,” Phillip responded.

He left the room whistling, which was so annoying Megan almost picked up her purse and walked out. Unfortunately, a deeply ingrained sense of responsibility kept her where she was.

A few more hours of dealing with him after all he’d done for her was the least she could do.

And then she’d be back in Chesapeake Shores with the other irritating males in her life.

Mick spent Monday impatiently awaiting Megan’s return. He was underfoot so much, his mother finally lost patience.

“You need something to do,” Nell declared. “Go up in the attic and bring down the Christmas decorations.”

“It’s not even the first of December yet,” he protested.

“Doesn’t matter. It will keep you out of my way. Besides, you know how long it takes to get this house decorated. Even if you start outside this afternoon, it’ll be days before you finish.”

“I thought Jake was going to put up all the outside lights,” Mick grumbled. “Didn’t his landscape company start doing that a couple of years back? Let him climb up and down ladders. I don’t need to do it. Besides, we need to support his business so he has money to provide for that baby he and Bree are expecting.”

Nell stood in the kitchen, hands on her hips, her expression exasperated. “Do you really want to argue with me about this? Even if Jake does the work, he still has to have the decorations. They’re in the attic. Bring them down.”

Mick turned on his heel and left. “Bossy old woman,” he muttered under his breath.

“I heard that,” she called after him. “You’re not too old for me to wash your mouth out with soap.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Mick shouted back, laughing.

“Don’t you tempt me, Michael Devlin O’Brien,” she retorted, though there was amusement threading through her voice, as well. “And if you wake the baby with all this commotion, you’ll be the one pacing the floor with him.”

Taking the threat seriously, Mick crept up the stairs as quietly as he could. He’d barely reached the second floor landing, though, when the crying started. With a sigh of resignation, he walked into Connor’s room.

“Did Grandpa wake you up?” he murmured, picking the boy up and cradling him against his chest, then wincing. “Or was it this soggy diaper?”

He made quick work of changing the baby, then took note of the fact that he appeared to be wide-awake. “How about you and me spend a little guy time together?” he said. “You can come up in the attic and help me sort through the decorations.”

The baby gurgled happily at the suggestion.

Mick put him in his carrier, then climbed up to the attic. One step inside, he knew this was going to be no simple task. His mother had been right about that.

One of these days he was actually going to organize the mess up here. Every year he vowed to put all of the Christmas decorations away in an orderly fashion, and every year things got stuffed into boxes then shoved into whatever corner of the room happened to be empty. Usually half the boxes he carted downstairs turned out not to have a single decoration inside, because no one had ever bothered to mark anything.

“Looks as if we have our work cut out for us,” he told the baby as he settled the carrier on top of a large, stable box which would give him a view of the room as Mick worked. He spotted an old CD player nearby, then found the box of Christmas CDs that was stored up here. He popped one in, and music filled the attic. “A little mood music,” he told the baby as Johnny Mathis sang about chestnuts roasting. “Now, that was a man who knew how to sing.”

Even as Mick spoke, the baby’s eyes drifted shut. It was pretty amazing how easily soothed he was by a good voice and a lovely old song.

With the baby settled, Mick started opening boxes to check out the contents, moving those with actual decorations closer to the door. Several of the boxes contained only the massive number of strands of lights for outdoors. He plugged them in one by one, discarding those that didn’t work. It was a tedious task, but it gave him time to think about how different this holiday season would be with a new baby in the house and Megan practically home for good.

Perhaps it had something to do with his nostalgic mood, but when he came to the box of ornaments the kids had made when they were small, he sat down to look through them. Each one stirred a memory, beginning with a more or less tree-shaped ornament made of clay that Abby had painted bright green then dotted with colored lumps of clay to represent the ornaments. She’d been five, as he recalled, and in kindergarten. Bree’s lopsided angel was next, the wings askew. Next he found Kevin’s attempt at a clay puppy, a less than subtle hint that he’d wanted a dog that year. He’d tied a red ribbon around the dog’s neck in place of a collar.

Connor’s first ornament, made apparently in preschool, was simply a handprint in a blob of clay. It had been painted a festive shade of red.

Last he came upon Jess’s attempt. Even then she’d struggled with her attention deficit disorder. Her Santa’s hat, if that’s what it was, had a streak of white paint and another streak of red, but little else in the way of detail. She’d obviously tired of the project. Her name had been carefully printed on the back, though, most likely by the teacher.

Mick tried to recall the moment the children had presented these ornaments to him and Megan, but he couldn’t. Something told him he hadn’t been around to see the pride shining in their eyes or to add his words of praise to Megan’s. How many moments of their lives had he missed because of work? Most of the big ones, he was certain of that much. No wonder Megan had lost patience with him.

Now, though, he would get it right. His grandchildren would know they were loved. And it wasn’t too late to show his children how much they mattered, as well. Most of all, though, he would prove to Megan that he could be the devoted, attentive husband she deserved.

But first he had to get her in front of a minister on New Year’s Eve. And given her stubborn resistance to the idea, that was going to be easier said than done.

10

M
egan had forgotten how tiring it was to care for an infant. By midafternoon when the baby went down for his nap, she was out for the count, as well. She was asleep on the sofa in the den, when she felt someone gently place a blanket over her. She stirred and glanced up into Mick’s worried eyes.

“I was trying not to wake you,” he said ruefully. “Go back to sleep. You’re worn-out.”

She sat up and rubbed her eyes. “No, I need to get up. I should be using this time to get a few things done in the living room. All those decorations you carted downstairs should be sorted out and put where they belong, so we’re ready when we pick out the tree. When are we doing that, by the way? You and I could go this weekend.”

“It’s too soon,” Mick protested. “It’ll be dead by Christmas.”

She smiled at his response. “You used to say that every year. The kids and I were always so impatient to get a tree into the house, and you always insisted we wait. I think it was so you wouldn’t have to go with us and listen to us debate the merits of every tree on the lot.” She gave him a defiant look. “Well, this year I’m not waiting. Having a tree will perk up everyone’s spirits. We can have the whole family over one evening to help us decorate it.”

Mick relented. “Sure. If that’s what you want.”

“It is.” She threw off the blanket and stood. “Now I’d better get those boxes sorted out. Most go to the living room, but I’m almost certain some of those things belong in the dining room and some in the foyer. I might as well get them out of here.” She nodded toward the stack of boxes sitting in the middle of the floor.

“That doesn’t have to be done right this minute,” Mick argued. “Lie back down and get some rest while you can. If the baby wakes up, I’ll get him. He and I are buddies now. We have things to do.”

She regarded him with amusement. “Such as?”

“Well, today I thought we’d go into town and do a little shopping.”

Megan stared at him incredulously. “You’re going to take the baby Christmas shopping?”

“I’ve already put the stroller and car seat that Connor brought last night into the car. I thought the baby would like to see all the lights and the store windows,” he said. “The other kids have already been. He shouldn’t be left out.”

“I doubt he’s aware that he’s been left out,” she said wryly.

“It’s the principle,” Mick insisted.

She eyed him with amusement. “Admit it, Mick. You just want a chance to show him off at Sally’s, don’t you? That’s what this is really about.”

Mick shrugged. “So what if it is?”

“How cold is it outside?”

“I have no idea. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“If you’re going to take the baby into town, he needs to be dressed for the weather. And then he needs to take off some of those things while you’re in Sally’s so he doesn’t get too warm. I’ll come with you,” she concluded decisively. She met Mick’s gaze. “Unless you have some objection to me coming along?”

Mick’s eyes brightened at once. “Of course not. It’ll be like the old days.”

She regarded him with amusement. “What old days would those be?”

“When we took the kids to see the lights.”

“Mick O’Brien, you were never once here to go traipsing around town looking at the holiday decorations,” she reminded him. “You generally breezed in on Christmas Eve, tugged on a Santa outfit, said ho-ho-ho a few times, passed out presents and went to bed.”

“I most certainly did not,” he retorted indignantly. “How’d all those toys get assembled for Christmas morning?”

“Most of the time, if I couldn’t put them together myself, I threw myself on the mercy of some neighbor who was handy with a screwdriver,” she recalled. “The one exception was the dollhouse you made for the girls. You built that yourself. I never did figure out how you found the time when you were away so much.”

It was a beautiful Victorian structure with every tiny detail carefully crafted. She’d been as awed as the girls had been.

“I think it was their most prized possession,” she told him. “It was the one thing they never minded sharing. They brought all of their friends over to see what their dad had made for them. They had bragging rights over owning an original Mick O’Brien architectural design, even if it was on a small scale.”

Mick looked momentarily taken aback. “I’d forgotten all about that. Where is it now? The twins should have it.”

“They do,” Megan reminded him. “Trace took it over to their house a few months ago. If Bree has a girl, Abby’s promised to pass it on to her when the twins outgrow playing with it. I suppose Jess’s children will eventually have it, too.”

Mick sighed. “I missed too much, didn’t I? I built that house, but I don’t think I ever saw them play with it.”

“You missed some of the best times,” Megan agreed. “But you won’t do that now. Our grandchildren are giving both of us a second chance.”

“That they are,” he agreed, then regarded her with a concerned expression. “Speaking of Jess, do you worry about her?” he asked unexpectedly.

She frowned at the question. “Why would you ask that? She’s doing really well with the inn.”

“No question about that, but running that place shouldn’t be all she has,” he complained. “It’s a career. She needs a man in her life. She needs those children you were talking about. Abby, Bree and Kevin are settled now. Even Connor has someone he cares about, plus that little guy upstairs. Jess is alone. She’s never stuck with anyone for long. I worry about her.”

“She’ll find someone when the time is right,” Megan said with confidence. “In fact, I’ve always thought…”

“What?”

“Never mind,” she said, thinking of Will Lincoln and the way he always regarded Jess with such longing in his eyes. Megan had been gone when Jess and Will were teenagers, but she had a gut feeling he’d had a crush on Jess all those years he’d been hanging around the house with Connor and Kevin. Now that they were all grown-up, though, he’d done nothing about it. Or perhaps he had, and Jess had rejected him. Megan had no way of knowing. Planting the idea in Mick’s head right now, she suspected, could lead to awkward consequences. He was bound to start meddling. Knowing Jess, that would be counterproductive.

“Just trust Jess to know when the right man comes along,” she told Mick.

“I want to see them all settled and happy,” Mick said. “I know we’re already well on our way, but I want this house filled with grandbabies.”

“I know. So do I.”

He gave her a pointed look. “I wouldn’t mind grabbing a little of that happiness for the two of us, as well.”

Megan laughed at the less than subtle reminder. “We will,” she promised him. “In due time.” She wrapped her arms around him. “Besides, I’m happy right now just being here with you with the holidays right around the corner. We’re going to have a wonderful Christmas, Mick.”

“I suppose,” he said, clearly unhappy with her response and the lack of any mention of what the new year might bring.

“Mick,” she said, holding his gaze. “I do love you.”

“So you say,” he grumbled.

“I could prove it,” she suggested seductively.

To her astonishment a gleam lit Mick’s eyes, but his words weren’t at all what she expected.

“Not until there’s a ring on your finger,” he declared, looking pleased with himself.

Megan chuckled. She knew him too well to believe the threat for a single second.

“No, I mean it,” he insisted. “Not until you make an honest man of me.”

It was definitely a twist Megan hadn’t anticipated, and it upped the stakes for getting Connor’s life on track in a very big hurry.

Everyone at Sally’s was fussing over the baby when Lawrence Riley walked in. The banker headed straight for Mick and Megan. He leaned down for a closer look at the baby.

“Who have we here?” he asked, returning the baby’s mostly toothless smile.

“This is my namesake,” Mick said proudly. “He’s Connor’s boy.”

“I definitely recognize those O’Brien genes,” Lawrence said. He straightened, then glanced at Megan, his expression sobering. “I was going to give you a call this afternoon.”

Beside Mick, Megan stilled. “Oh?”

“The loan committee met this morning,” he said.

“And?” Mick prodded. “Don’t drag it out, man. She got the loan, right?”

Lawrence shook his head. “I’m so sorry, Megan. I thought this would go differently. I’m afraid in this economy, the committee was concerned it might be a bad time to open a small business, especially one dealing in high-end art.”

Mick couldn’t believe his ears. “Even after I…” His voice trailed off as he caught Megan’s horrified expression.

“Mick O’Brien, did you interfere in this?” she demanded.

“I went to see Lawrence, that’s all,” he said hurriedly. He scowled at his longtime friend. “He assured me you had nothing to worry about, so I backed off. Now he’s saying they turned you down, despite me being very clear that I was willing to back you.”

Lawrence flushed guiltily. “Like I said, I’m sorry. Maybe at a later time, Megan.”

Megan ignored the apology and whirled on Mick, her scowl deepening. “Mick, I told you very clearly that I didn’t want you involved.”

“Well, apparently that didn’t work out so well,” Mick retorted. “If you’d let me write the check in the first place, you’d be starting a business in a few months instead of having to scramble for other financing. I can still do that. Let Lawrence and that band of shortsighted number crunchers of his eat their hearts out when you make a huge success of this without them.”

Megan shook her head. “I can’t do that. If they don’t think my plan is solid, then why would I take money from you and put it at risk?”

“Because this is your dream, dammit!” Mick said so forcefully that the baby began to cry.

Megan immediately stood, took the baby from his carrier and walked off, crooning softly to him.

Mick turned on Lawrence. “Are you in charge at that bank or not?”

“I don’t make unilateral decisions,” Lawrence said. “I’m truly sorry about this, Mick, but in this economy we’ve survived by being prudent. Megan has a good business plan. Maybe in a few months or another year, we can take another look at this.” He regarded Mick with regret. “If you’d cosigned, it would be different, but that’s not what she wanted. In fact, she was adamant about it.”

Mick knew there was no point in arguing. He even understood that Megan’s own stubbornness was what had cost her the financing for the gallery. That didn’t make it any easier when he saw the disappointment she was covering with her anger at him.

Worse than that, it was one more blow to their future. Without that business to give her the independence she craved, it was even less likely that Megan would stay here in town.

He drew in a deep breath and resolved not to let this latest hurdle stand in their way. He had no idea how to fix this, but he would. It used to be that all the challenges in his life that mattered to him were work-related. Now he had a huge one in his personal life, and it was clearly the most important challenge he’d ever faced.

Megan wandered around Sally’s holding the whimpering baby and trying not to cry herself. Her dream had just gone up in smoke, and she hadn’t even seen it coming. She’d been so sure the bank would back her. It wasn’t as if she’d been asking for a fortune, just enough capital for the first couple of years.

As for Mick, as annoying as his interference had been, it hadn’t been unexpected. Butting in was just what he did. She couldn’t really blame him for wanting to help her. At the same time, she couldn’t allow it, either.

She waited until she saw Lawrence leave before returning to the table.

“We’ll fix this business about the loan,” Mick said at once, regarding her worriedly. “It’s a setback, Meggie. Nothing more.”

“Don’t minimize it, Mick. If a bank that’s known me for years turns down my loan application, I can’t imagine that another bank will view it more favorably.”

“There’s still me,” he said. “I believe in you, and I have the money.”

She regarded him with exasperation. “How many ways do I need to say no?”

He looked as if he was ready to argue, but then he backed down. “The offer’s there if you change your mind. In the meantime, what’s your next step?”

“I don’t have one,” she admitted. “To be honest, I’m still reeling a little bit. I was so sure….” She shrugged. “I guess nothing’s a sure thing these days.”

“What about the partnership with Phillip you mentioned a while back?”

“I suppose that’s still an option,” she said, though she dreaded going back to Phillip to detail one more glitch in her plan to move to Chesapeake Shores and open her own gallery. He’d probably use it as yet another reason why she should be staying put in New York with an established business.

“You don’t sound as if you like it, though,” Mick said, being surprisingly perceptive.

“I don’t. All the reasons I had for wanting to do this on my own are still valid. Even Phillip, though he was willing to work out a partnership arrangement, thought I’d be happier knowing I had total control.”

“Is that because the two of you don’t see eye to eye?” Mick asked. “Or are you afraid he’d strip you of all your authority to make decisions?”

“More than likely, that’s exactly what he’d do,” she admitted. “Even though we’ve always worked well together, I’ve always known he was the boss and that his decisions were final. I doubt we could change that balance of power now.”

“What about—”

Before Mick could finish his thought, she cut him off. “Can we please not talk about this right now? I honestly have no idea what comes next and I’m too upset right this second to think about it.”

Mick nodded. “As long as you know I’m right here and will do whatever it takes to help you make this come together.”

“I do know that, Mick, and I appreciate your faith in me more than you could possibly know.” She hesitated, then said, “Can we go home now? Suddenly the last thing I want to do is wander around looking at Christmas displays. It’s too cold outside for the baby, anyway.”

Mick studied her worriedly. “Why don’t you take the baby on home? I have a few things I’d like to do as long as I’m already in town.”