The Summer Garden. Sherryl Woods

       “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.”

       “I learned a few Irish pub recipes before I left Ireland,” Luke admitted. “And I’m counting on Gram to coach me through the rest. The customers won’t starve.”

       Jeff regarded him with surprise. “You’re going to take cooking lessons from Ma?”

       “Actually, I haven’t mentioned that to her just yet,” Luke said. “I’m hoping to get a few minutes with her on Sunday to see how she’d feel about it.”

       “She’ll be ecstatic,” Jeff predicted, knowing how much Nell wanted someone in the family to step in and learn all the traditional dishes. “That experiment with getting the grandchildren to take over the cooking for Sunday dinners went sadly awry. Only Kevin made anything edible. Thank the Lord, Ma abandoned it before we all died of ptomaine poisoning.”

       Luke grinned. “I’m hoping her reputation in town as a terrific cook will carry the day. Thankfully, no one ever had to eat anything made by those O’Brien culinary pretenders.”

       Jeff laughed. “Yes, thank goodness for that.”

       As he sent Luke on his way, Jeff said a little prayer for the success of his son’s dream. He knew that Luke had struggled as the youngest in a large family of overachievers. Now that Luke had finally found a vision for himself—even one that Jeff wouldn’t necessarily have chosen for him—Jeff wanted nothing more than for his son to achieve the happiness his brother, sister and cousins had found, both personally and professionally.

       And, truth be told, he wouldn’t mind having a nearby place where he could indulge in a bit of Guinness from time to time, along with the nostalgia he often felt for Ireland. The taste he’d had of it with the family at Christmas had only whetted his appetite for more.

      2

      By the weekend, word of Luke’s plan had spread through the entire family. He’d taken his share of ribbing about his lack of culinary skills, but in general everyone had been as supportive as he could have hoped for. The only person Luke hadn’t spoken to yet was his grandmother.

       He sought Nell out after the regular Sunday family dinner at his uncle Mick’s. She was in the kitchen, which everyone conceded was her domain, whether in her son’s house, where she was today, or in her own cottage up the road.

       She didn’t seem the least bit surprised to find her grandson hovering there after the dishes had been washed and put away. She simply poured them each a cup of tea, then pointed to a chair.

       “I understand you have big plans,” Nell said, a twinkle in her bright blue eyes. She might be in her eighties, but she had the lively curiosity and stamina of someone much younger. “I want to hear all about them.” She regarded him with amusement. “I especially want to hear these plans you have to steal all my favorite recipes.”

       Luke laughed. “Not steal them,” he insisted. “I’m hoping you’ll give them to me willingly, and teach me to make them while you’re at it. Otherwise, I’ll have to hire you as my cook.”

       “I’m a little too old to be embarking on a career as a chef,” she said. “But I’ll be happy to give you all the lessons you’d like.” She gave him a wink. “And perhaps come in to supervise from time to time just to be sure you’re not messing them up and ruining the family reputation.”

       “Really, Gram? You’re the best!” It was even more than he’d hoped for.

       “Really,” she confirmed. “Now, tell me everything.”

       Luke described how the idea for the pub had come to him, all the research he’d done before coming home from Ireland, how excited he was to get started so it could be open before the official start of the summer season in Chesapeake Shores.

       “I’d like it ready by late April to give me a month to work out the kinks before it gets busy in town,” he said. “But Matthew thinks I’m being overly optimistic since it’s already the end of March. Apparently he likes to take his time drawing up plans.”

       “And what does Mick say?”

       “He says anything can be done, at a cost.”

       She laughed. “Yes, that would be Mick’s way, but I imagine he’ll find some way to do the job and give you a bargain price. He seems especially enthusiastic about this plan of yours. I think he likes the idea of having a little taste of Ireland close by.”

       “Or perhaps he just likes knowing that my father isn’t wildly enthusiastic about the idea. Dad’s supportive, but he can’t hide his doubts.”

       “It’s Jeff’s duty to express caution,” Nell reminded him. “No father wants to see his son make a costly mistake.” She studied him intently. “Do you have your financing?”

       “That’s the big sticking point with Dad,” he admitted. “I want to sell the lot he’s been holding for me on Beach Lane next to the homes Susie and Matthew have built on theirs. Dad’s really upset about that.”

       “He thinks it’s shortsighted, no doubt,” she guessed.