Flowers on Main. Sherryl Woods

him and her mother, the icy tension between them had thawed a few degrees. Bridging the distance between mother and daughter had brought him the kind of satisfaction he hadn’t felt in years. At least until he’d received a check in the mail from Megan for her half. That had annoyed the dickens out of him.

      Although he and Megan had seen each other only a few times in Chesapeake Shores, it had been enough to convince Mick of the cost of clinging to his own stupid pride. Years ago that stubborn pride had kicked in and kept him from begging Megan to stay. Now, sensing that they might have another chance, he wasn’t going to let anything stand in the way of his reaching out.

      Except maybe fear, he thought with chagrin as he sipped his coffee and stared at the cell phone lying on the scarred, Formica-topped table in this noisy, busy neighborhood eatery.

      Maybe it would be easier if he just showed up on her doorstep. Megan was too much of a lady to slam the door in his face, while she might find it a whole lot easier to hang up on him.

      He was so busy contemplating his strategy that he jumped like some scared teenager when the cell phone rang.

      “Yes, hello,” he muttered, embarrassed even though the person on the other end of the line couldn’t possibly know how idiotic he felt.

      “Have you seen her yet?” his mother demanded.

      Mick frowned. How was it that Nell O’Brien always knew what he was up to, even when he’d been very careful to keep this trip to New York a secret from everyone in his family?

      He’d seen no point in stirring up speculation—or a storm of objections, for that matter—when he had no idea how things between him and Megan were likely to go.

      He’d detoured to New York on his way back from business meetings in Seattle and Minneapolis, thinking that if he made a damn fool of himself, no one would have to know about it. Now here was his mother, with that second sight of hers, guessing exactly what he was planning.

      “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said defensively, hoping Nell had simply taken a lucky guess.

      “You’re in New York to see Megan, aren’t you?” she declared with conviction.

      “What gave you that idea?” Even as he spoke, he could imagine her rolling her eyes at his response. She’d never liked wasting time stating the obvious.

      “Your office said you flew to New York this morning after you finished up your meetings in Minnesota. Since you haven’t set foot in that city since the day Megan moved up there, and since you’ve been mooning around here ever since she left after the opening at the inn, I put two and two together.”

      “Well, your math skills are lousy,” he claimed. “I haven’t seen her.”

      She laughed at that. “That can only mean you’ve chickened out now that you’re there. You’re probably sitting in some bar trying to work up the courage to see her.”

      “I’m not in a damn bar,” he muttered. Saints protect him from a mother who’d always been able to read him like a book. “And I have not chickened out. Did you track me down just to hassle me, or was there something else on your mind?”

      “I had something else on my mind, but now I’m thinking we should be talking about whether you have any idea what you’re doing. You and Megan have been divorced for years.

      She left because you neglected her and this family and didn’t change your ways when she called you on it. You know I love you, but I don’t see how any of that has changed. You still spend more time away than you do with your family.”

      “In case you haven’t noticed, my family has pretty much scattered.”

      “And in case you haven’t noticed, one by one they seem to be turning up again,” she retorted. “Yet you’re still running from one job to the next.”

      “Maybe I’m ready to slow down,” he said, testing the idea on himself as much as her.

      “Retire? You?” she asked, her tone incredulous. “I don’t believe that for a minute.”

      “I didn’t mention retirement,” he retorted irritably. “I said I might be ready to slow down.”

      “Maybe? Might? Seems to me you ought to be sure about a thing like that before you go getting that woman’s hopes up, then turn right around and dash them again.”

      Much to his dismay, he conceded to himself that she had a point. Not that he intended to admit it aloud. “Look, I have things to do. Just tell me why you called.”

      Apparently she realized that his patience had worn thin, because she actually answered the question, rather than launching a full-scale lecture or asking more questions of her own.

      “I called because I’m worried about Bree,” she told him.

      “Bree?” he asked, startled. “What’s wrong with her?”

      “Men!” Nell muttered, her tone disparaging. “Mick, she’s your daughter. Didn’t you notice how quiet she’s been ever since she got here? For that matter, haven’t you wondered what she’s still doing here?”

      “Bree’s always been quiet,” he said, genuinely puzzled by his mother’s observation. She’d always been happiest locked away in her room with a pad of paper or a book. Of all of his children, she was the one he’d understood the least. She’d never had the outgoing nature of her siblings. Nor had she suffered from the usual teenage highs and lows—or if she had, she’d channeled that into the writing she hid from everyone in the family.

      “This is different,” his mother insisted. “And she hasn’t said a single word about going back to Chicago. Something’s happened, Mick, I just know it. I tried to talk to her earlier, but she told me she was fine.”

      “Then maybe she is.”

      “She is not fine. You need to stop worrying about the past and get back home to deal with your daughter. She needs you.”

      “No,” he said at once. “If Bree needs anyone, it’s you. You’ve always understood her better than I have. Come on, Ma, you know I’m right. If you can’t get her to open up, then there’s not a chance in hell I’ll be able to.”

      “Well, this time I think maybe she needs all of us.”

      He frowned at Nell’s somber tone. “Ma, what exactly do you think happened to her? If that jerk did something …” He let his voice trail off. He’d never liked Martin Demming. He was too old for Bree for one thing, and an arrogant son of a gun for another. Mick had heard a few too many condescending remarks directed at Bree. It had taken every ounce of restraint he possessed not to tell the man off the last time Mick had been to Chicago. Only a plaintive look from Bree had kept him silent. It had made his heart ache to see his sensitive daughter listen to that demeaning nonsense without fighting back.

      Nell interrupted his thoughts. “I don’t know if this has anything to do with Martin Demming or if it’s about her work.

      That’s my point. We need to find out what has her so upset. When are you coming home?”

      “That depends,” he said, still thinking about his mission to see Megan again.

      “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she said impatiently. “Either call Megan the minute we hang up or get on a plane and come home. You’re needed here.”

      “I’ll be there first thing tomorrow,” he promised.

      Heck, if things went well, maybe he’d even convince Megan to come back to Chesapeake Shores for another visit. If Bree really was in some sort of trouble, having her mother around certainly couldn’t hurt. In fact, it might be just what she needed.

      He sighed even as the manipulative thought occurred to him. Who was he kidding? He was the one who needed Megan at home again. Always had. If a crisis with their middle daughter gave him the perfect excuse to get