Harbor Lights (3 page)

He finally lifted his head and faced his grandmother. “Gram, I have no idea what to do. Some days just getting out of bed seems like a triumph.”

She nodded knowingly. “That’s the way I felt when your grandfather died. I’m sure it’s the way Mick felt when your mother left him alone with all of you children to raise. You know how he handled that.”

“By taking off for work every chance he got,” Kevin said bitterly.

“Do you think staying here and hiding out is any kinder?” she asked him.

The soft-spoken words hit him like a slap. “But I—”

She reached over and covered his hand with hers before he could argue that this was different.

“He didn’t intend any hurt, either, Kevin,” Gram said. “Mick was managing the only way he knew how. So are you. But both of you are better than that. Mick’s a little late in trying to make up for those absences. I don’t want you to wait till Davy’s grown before fixing this.”

“Where do I start?” he asked, genuinely at a loss. Plunging into a career taking out fishing charters, while it held some appeal, was more than he could cope with. It might require him to be civil to strangers, and he didn’t trust himself to do that. Not yet. Just look at how quickly he lost patience with the people he actually cared about.

Gram gave his hand a squeeze. “You take one step at a time. Tomorrow, I expect you to get away from this house. This first time, go into town while Davy’s down for his nap. Have lunch at Sally’s. Stop by Bree’s flower shop. Visit Jess at the inn and help her out for a couple of hours. It doesn’t matter. Just do one thing tomorrow that’s a step forward. The next day, take another.”

When she said it like that, when she didn’t ask for an overnight transformation or a leap into a whole new career as Jess had suggested, it seemed possible. Reasonable, even.

“I can do that,” he said eventually.

“Well, of course you can,” she said reassuringly.

He thought back to all the years when Gram had been left virtually on her own with him, his brother and sisters, while his mother was making a new life for herself in New York and Mick was roaming the world for work.

“Gram, did you ever have doubts after you moved in here to help Dad raise us?”

She laughed. “I didn’t have time for doubts, not with the five of you to run me ragged. Besides, I had the advantage of having raised your father and uncles. I already knew a thing or two.”

“I’ve been in a war. I’ve worked as a paramedic. None of that’s easy or predictable.” He shook his head. “But despite all that, there are days when the thought of raising Davy on my own scares me to death.”

“But you’re not on your own now, are you?” she reminded him lightly. “None of us are going to abandon you to the task. We just don’t want you to miss out on being the kind of father I know deep down that you want to be.”

“How’d you get to be so smart?” he teased, feeling lighter than he had in a long, long time.

“Live long enough and it’s amazing what you pick up,” she said as she stood. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I love you, Kevin. Never forget that.”

“As if you’d let me,” he grumbled.

She chuckled. “Yes, as if. Don’t stay up too late.”

“Thanks, Gram, for the cookies and the talk.”

She winked at him. “Can’t have one without the other.”

It was true, Kevin thought, as she left him alone. Gram’s serious talks had always been accompanied by freshly baked cookies—oatmeal raisin for him, chocolate chip for his sisters and peanut butter for Connor. The advice had always gone down more easily because of it. Just as it had tonight.

One step forward, he reminded himself. That’s all she was expecting.

Chances were, he thought wryly, one step was just about all he could manage.

The cappuccino machine was a complete mystery. If she’d had money to burn, Shanna would have tossed it across the room and let it shatter. But the success of her new business depended on making coffee and tea sales as
brisk as selling books and games. And she needed this business to succeed in the worst way.

She’d poured every last dime she had into Word Games. She was hoping to combine her love of reading and board games like Scrabble, Clue, Sequence and Monopoly with her obsessive need for frequent caffeine fixes and turn it into something that would help her bring her life back into focus.

She’d picked Chesapeake Shores because it was a small seaside town, rather than an overwhelming city. On a prior visit, she’d been drawn in by its serenity, its friendly people. She’d noted the absence of any business similar to the one she wanted to open. Who could be at the beach without wanting a good book? Or a few games and puzzles to keep the kids occupied? She’d probably need to look into handheld electronic games, as well, but not only was the technology pricier than she could afford, it was a complete mystery to her. How could she sell something she couldn’t explain to her customers? Of course, half the teenagers in town could probably explain those games to her.

Though the idea of starting her own business was scary, it was exciting, as well. She’d loved every second of placing her initial orders. Now, she had plenty of stock, most of it still in boxes, and lots of ideas, jotted on Post-it notes stuck on a refrigerator in the shop’s back room or on the beat-up old desk she’d salvaged from a thrift shop.

What she needed next, more than anything, was a caffeine fix. Unfortunately, the stupid machine wasn’t cooperating. She couldn’t even read the instructions, which seemed to be in every language except plain English. There were, in fact, recognizable English words on the page, but added together they were indecipherable.

Since the cappuccino machine was too costly to replace, she heaved the world’s ugliest mug—a joke goodbye gift from her best friend—across the room instead. Naturally, it didn’t shatter, which Shanna would have counted as a blessing. Instead, it was caught by a startled man who’d just opened the front door.

She was about to apologize, but he was studying the awful orange mug with fascination. When he lifted his gaze to hers, there was a faint, but unmistakable twinkle in his dark blue eyes. It died quickly, but that glimpse of it had made her heart catch.

“The mug is pretty hideous, but do you really think that’s cause to put it out of its misery?” he inquired lightly.

“Actually the coffeemaker was on my hit list. The cup was just a less costly substitute.”

“Lousy instructions and a need for caffeine,” he guessed. “It’s a dangerous combination. Sally’s is a couple of doors down. Why don’t I buy you a cup of coffee before you try to break something else?”

Embarrassed, Shanna shook her head. “I think I can control myself until I figure this out.”

He hesitated, looking oddly torn, then stepped all the way inside. “At least let me take a look at those instructions,” he offered. “Maybe I’ll have better luck. I’m Kevin O’Brien, by the way. My sister owns the flower shop next door. Any idea where she is? There’s a closed sign on the door.”

Shanna shrugged. “Not a clue. I haven’t met a soul on the block yet. I’ve been totally focused on trying to get this place ready to open. I’m Shanna Carlyle.”

“I’m surprised Bree hasn’t been in here pestering you for information about your plans. She prides herself on knowing everything going on in town.”

“This all happened pretty fast,” Shanna said. “There was a waiting list of people looking for retail space on Main Street. I got a call that the prior occupant wanted to move to a bigger space and I could take over her lease. That was two weeks ago, and here I am.” She was babbling, but something about this man made her as nervous as a teenager meeting the sexy new kid in school for the first time.

“You’ve accomplished all this in two weeks?” he said, his amazement plain as he took in the fresh coat of paint and the stacks and stacks of boxes.

She gave him a wry look. The place was a disorganized mess. Still, it did look as if something might happen in here soon.

“I’d done a lot of my homework, knew the kind of inventory I wanted to carry and where to get it. All I had to do was establish my credit, which thankfully is good, and make some calls to vendors.” She shrugged. “Besides, I couldn’t afford a lot of downtime once I signed the lease. I need to get money coming in if I’m going to keep up with the rent on the shop space and the apartment upstairs.”

He surveyed the room and the piles of boxes. “What’s your target date for opening?”

“A week from Saturday.”

He looked skeptical. “Then you need help.”

“I can’t afford help.”

Once again, she noticed a faint hesitation, as if he thought he was going to hate himself for uttering what came next.

“Then it’s a good thing I don’t need to be paid,” he said eventually, his hands shoved in his pockets, his expression bland. “I have a little time to burn while I wait for Bree. I’d be glad to pitch in.”

Shanna stilled. Big-city jitters kicked in. Kevin O’Brien was definitely intriguing. And probably safe enough, if his sister owned the florist shop next door. She’d heard the name O’Brien around town, knew that a man named Mick O’Brien, in fact, had been the architect who’d designed and built Chesapeake Shores. The woman she’d dealt with at the management company had been an O’Brien, too.

“So, are you one of
the
O’Briens?” she asked. “I’ve read a little about Mick and I met Susie.”

“My father and my cousin,” he told her.

That was reassuring, but still, old habits kept her cautious. “I appreciate the offer to help, but I probably should do it myself. I have to figure out the placement for all this stuff as I go. And, as you can see, the shelves aren’t in yet. They’re not coming till tomorrow.”

He didn’t seem especially disappointed by her refusal. In fact, he almost looked relieved.

“Okay, then, no coffee from Sally’s, no help in here,” he said easily. “How about the cappuccino machine? Want me to take a crack at that?”

Not wanting to seem ungracious, Shanna finally nodded. “Sure. If you can get it working, your first purchase is on me.”

“You shouldn’t be offering to give books away,” he scolded as he studied the instructions, then sorted through the tools she’d spread out until he found the one he wanted. “Though my son will be delighted. Picture books are among his favorite things. I’m sure we’ll be frequent customers.”

Her heart did an odd little stutter step. She couldn’t have said for sure if it was disappointment or delight. Kevin was an attractive man, after all, but she loved kids. She was hoping the store would draw a lot of them.

“You have a son?”

He nodded. “Davy. He’s two.”

“Well, you or your wife will have to bring him in as soon as I open. I have a huge selection of picture books on order.”

For an instant, it looked as if Kevin had been frozen in time, almost as if he weren’t even breathing. Then he exhaled slowly and frowned as he concentrated on the cappuccino machine. Shanna could tell instantly that she’d said something wrong, but she had no idea what it might have been. Perhaps it was mentioning his wife. Maybe they were divorced, but wouldn’t she have their child? It sounded as if the boy lived with his dad.

Then she remembered. When she’d first come to Chesapeake Shores for a visit a year ago, recovering from her own very complicated and shattered marriage, she’d stayed at the inn. It, too, was run by an O’Brien. And the whole place had been buzzing because the owner’s brother had lost his wife in Iraq and had just moved home with his son. Her heart had ached at the news, not just for the man who’d lost his wife, but for the little boy who would grow up without a mother.

That man was Kevin—it had to be. She felt awful, but had no idea how to apologize, especially since her inadvertent mention of his wife had caused such a strong reaction. Maybe it was better to let it pass.

Even as she was debating with herself over the best tactic, he stood up. “Where’s the nearest plug?”

She gestured toward a table she’d set up temporarily to hold the machine. The foam cups, gourmet coffee beans, and supplies were already sitting on it.

Within minutes, he had the coffee brewing, the rich aroma filling the space.

“Milk?” he asked.

“In the refrigerator in back. I’ll get it.”

When she brought it back, he deftly frothed it to perfection, poured it on top of a cup of fragrant coffee and handed it to her. “There you go,” he said with a grin. “You’re all set.”

“I’m eternally grateful,” she said, meaning it. “The coffee’s fantastic.” She met his gaze and asked impulsively, “What are you doing a week from Saturday? If you’ll man this machine, I’ll not only give your son his pick of any book in the place, but I’ll pay you, too. I can’t afford to hire anyone even part-time just yet, but I can certainly pay you for one day just to keep the customers in coffee.”

His expression closed down as if the offer offended him. “If I’m around, I’ll help out, but I don’t want your money.”

“You work, I pay you,” she said, not sure why she was so insistent that it be a business arrangement. From what she’d gathered, the O’Briens were probably not in need of the kind of paltry money she could afford to pay. Still, paying her way was a matter of pride to her. Accusations from her former in-laws that she’d been a gold digger were still a little too raw. She didn’t want to start her life in Chesapeake Shores feeling indebted to anyone.