The Summer Garden. Sherryl Woods

if Mick would see the value of a gathering spot in the heart of town, a warm and welcoming place in the Irish tradition.

       “That’s what I’m thinking,” Luke confirmed, looking Mick directly in the eye. “What’s your opinion?”

       Mick’s gaze narrowed. “What makes you think you can do this? You never worked as a bartender, as far as I know. Never worked in a restaurant, either.”

       “Not entirely true,” Luke said. “When I stayed on in Ireland, I worked for a time at McDonough’s, the pub where we spent so much time while we were there. I also traveled all over the country visiting every pub I could find, from those in cities to those in small villages. I asked a million questions, took copious notes and cooked my share of fish ’n’ chips. I even bought an antique bar in a place that was closing. It’s being shipped over here for arrival in a month’s time.”

       Matthew’s expression was now as stunned as his uncle’s. “I thought you stayed in Ireland after the family and Kristen left because you developed some misguided crush on the impossible Moira.”

       “That’s what I wanted everyone to think,” he admitted, and it had been partly true. “I wasn’t ready to have all of you shoot down this idea of mine. I was still formulating it, testing it out in my heart and my head to see if it felt right.” He leveled a look into his brother’s eyes, pleading with him to understand and back him in this. “It does.”

       “But a pub?” Matthew said, his concern evident. “Why?”

       “In a weird way, it was something Mack said a while back,” Luke explained, referring to his sister Susie’s husband. “I was giving him some advice and he made an offhand comment that maybe I should consider being a shrink like Will. He was actually being sarcastic, but the idea stuck.”

       “And that led you to this pub idea?” Mick said. “What kind of sense does that make?”

       “Everyone knows people pour out their troubles to bartenders,” Luke explained. “I like listening, not in any official capacity, the way Will does, but just being a sounding board. When we were in Ireland, I saw that kind of thing happening in every pub we went to, and it all kind of fell into place. Pubs create their own kind of community, not just for drinking but for food and friendship, for music and laughter. At least when they’re done right. I’d like to be at the center of something like that.”

       “Well, I’ll be,” Matthew said.

       Luke studied his brother’s face to see if shock was edging toward approval. “So, do you think I’m insane?” he prodded.

       “A little,” Matthew said. “But I can also see it working. How about you, Uncle Mick? Look around. Imagine that antique bar across the back wall with a big mirror that will bring in the view of the bay, at least during the day. Maybe not as dark as the usual Irish pub, but one suited to a seaside town. Laila and I saw one like that in Howth with a view of the marina.”

       He glanced toward Luke. “You mentioned music. Does that mean you’d like a small area for a band?”

       “Absolutely,” Luke confirmed. “Nothing too large or fancy, just an area where musicians can set up. I’m hoping to book some authentic Irish groups from time to time. Bands, singers, whatever I can find.”

       “Got it,” Matthew said, jotting notes on the pad that was ever-present in his pocket. “Uncle Mick, what do you think?”

       Mick shook his head and began to pace. Only after he’d been at it a few minutes did Luke realize he was mentally measuring. When he halted in front of Luke, he looked him in the eye. “You have a business plan? Times get tough around here in winter. You have to be able to weather that.”

       “I think the music will keep the locals coming in and maybe draw people from around the region. My figures seem sound enough to me, but I was hoping Laila could take a look at them,” he said. “Math was never my strongest suit. I’m hoping she’ll have time to take over that end of things for me, keep the finances on track and yank my chain when I’m tempted to bust the budget for one thing or another, as she does for Jess.”

       “Ah, so that’s why she’s waiting for us now at Panini Bistro,” Matthew said. “We should probably get over there. Uncle Mick, care to come along?”

       “Try to keep me away,” Mick said at once. “I’ll just walk to the corner, which is where I was headed when I spotted you two, and get Megan. She should be closing up her gallery about now.”

       On his way to get his wife, Luke surmised, Mick had apparently crossed paths with Luke’s cousin Connor, who was meeting his wife, Heather, at her quilt shop and invited them along, because Connor and Heather accompanied Connor’s parents to the restaurant.

       By the time they were actually seated at Panini Bistro, they needed just about every vacant seat in the tiny restaurant. Naturally, it was Mick who seized the moment to announce Luke’s news, which caused a noisy eruption of input from everyone in the room, until Mick finally slapped a hand on the table to get their attention. Then he turned to Luke.

       “What do you plan to call this bar of yours?”

       Luke grinned. “O’Brien’s, of course. If I have a good Irish name, why would I call it anything else?”

       A grin spread across his uncle’s face. “And we’re the first to know about this idea of yours?”

       “You are,” Luke confirmed, then realized what he’d done.

       Yet again, Mick O’Brien had managed to trump one of his brothers, getting the hottest family news first. In a family as competitive as theirs, Luke’s father would never hear the end of it.

       “I don’t suppose you’d let me be the one to tell Dad?” Luke pleaded. “Out of respect.”

       Mick was clearly torn, but when Megan poked him in the ribs with an elbow, he nodded with obvious reluctance. “Only fair, I suppose.”

       “Thank you,” Luke said, then glanced around. “So, I have your support for this? Laila, you’ll look over the budget, and, Connor, you’ll check all the legalities?” As those two nodded readily, he glanced around. “And you all think it’s a good idea?”

       “I think it’s a fine idea,” Mick said to more enthusiastic choruses of agreement from the others. “And if it’s something you’re passionate about, only a fool would stand in your way.”

       Luke had a hunch that if his father didn’t grant him unqualified support, his uncle would be more than happy to repeat the exact same message to him. Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that. The last thing Luke wanted was to launch another family feud.

       Moira glanced at the snapshot she’d taken a few weeks ago of Luke O’Brien. It was one of her better pictures, she thought. It had captured him laughing, the sea in the background, his black hair tousled by the wind, his blue eyes sparkling with mirth. Just looking at it made her heart catch.

       When Luke had turned up at her grandfather’s house along with the rest of his boisterous family for a Christmas season celebration, she’d been in one of her increasingly dark moods, ready to snap at anyone who crossed her path. Her grandfather and her mum were used to her mood swings and her rebellions. They openly worried about her and her lack of direction, which only made her more miserable.

       Amazingly, she hadn’t scared Luke off with her tart tongue. He’d stuck to her that night like glue, teased her until she’d even managed a smile or two. And when they’d all gathered for his brother’s impromptu wedding to Laila just days later, Luke had even coaxed her onto the dance floor, crooning in her ear as if he were settling a nervous filly until she finally relaxed in his arms. And fell just a little bit in love with him.

       Truthfully, she’d fallen for his whole family. They were so different from her own. For all the evidence that they argued and battled wits, the O’Briens were also openly affectionate with one another. There was none of the bitterness that emanated from her own mum, or the