Driftwood Cottage. Sherryl Woods

his son were the only things in his life that did matter. He just didn’t see any way to hold on to them without betraying his core belief that most marriages were a sham and led, not to happily-ever-after but to misery.

      Back at the house his father had built when he was first developing Chesapeake Shores, Connor paused long enough to throw his bag into his boyhood room, which still had his old sports posters on the walls. In the kitchen he grabbed a handful of Gram’s cookies, relieved to find that she hadn’t stopped baking, even though everyone, including her, had moved out of the main house, leaving it to his father and mother. Apparently Gram still made sure the cookie jar was stocked for visits by all of her great-grandchildren.

      Crossing the wide expanse of lawn toward the bay, he could hear the laughter of children coming from the dock, followed by the low, surprisingly patient voice of his father. Stepping out onto the weathered gray boards, warmed by the midday sun, Connor stood unnoticed as his father baited hooks and helped his three grandsons cast their lines, one arm firmly around little Mick at all times. Only Henry and Davy had any real hope of reeling in a fish, but even from his spot in his grandfather’s lap, little Mick dangled his line into the calm waters of the bay, chattering happily to himself in nonsensical words, to which Mick replied as if he could understand him perfectly.

      “I wish I had a camera,” Connor said quietly, causing Mick to glance up with a broad smile. “I can’t recall a time you ever spent the day fishing with me and Kevin.”

      Mick’s smile faded at the barb. “You’re probably right. And it was my loss. I thank God every day that I have another chance with these boys.”

      Up until now Davy and Henry had been totally absorbed with watching the water for some evidence that fish were nearby. When they looked up and spotted Connor, grins broke across their faces. Here was the uncle who was more grown-up playmate than authority figure.

      “Uncle Connor, sit with us,” Davy pleaded. “You can put the worms on my line.”

      “Big boys put their own bait on the hooks,” Mick told him firmly. “I just showed you how to do it.”

      Davy wrinkled his nose. “But it’s yucky.”

      Connor grinned. “That it is. Give me a minute with your granddad and little Mick, then I’ll come help you.”

      While listening to the exchange, Mick studied Connor curiously. “What brings you home? Were we expecting you?”

      “Do I need to make a reservation these days?” Connor asked defensively. For a time he’d been banished from his home for trying to interfere in his father’s plan to wed his mother again, but he’d thought his exile was in the past. In fact, he’d even moved in for a time when Heather had left his son here for several weeks. He’d commuted to work in Baltimore during that time.

      “Of course you don’t need a reservation,” Mick said impatiently. “You just haven’t come back here since the wedding. Or should I say since Heather took your boy to be with her?”

      “I was persuaded that I was overdue for a visit,” Connor admitted wryly.

      Mick chuckled. “Then the mission was a success. You can thank your mother for pulling that together.”

      Connor frowned. “Mom sent Kevin and the others to Baltimore? I’d figured you were behind it.”

      “Not this time. It was your mother who planted a few seeds here and there,” Mick admitted.

      “I suppose it was all about getting me down here so I could discover that Heather’s living in town with my son.”

      “Wouldn’t surprise me,” Mick agreed.

      Connor directed a sour look at his father. “It’s not going to work, you know.”

      Mick reached over to put another worm on Davy’s hook when he saw the boy struggling with it, then glanced up at Connor. “What’s not going to work?”

      “Throwing Heather and me together. We’re not getting married.”

      Mick shrugged. “Up to you, though it seems a shame for this boy of yours not to have a full-time daddy in his life.” He frowned at Connor. “And before you say a word, I may have been gone too much, but I was a full-time father, and all of you knew it.”

      Back on the defensive, Connor said, “My son knows I love him.”

      “How’s he supposed to know a thing like that when he never sees you?”

      “I see him all the time,” Connor said. “Heather brought him for a visit just last week.”

      “For an hour or two, I’ll bet,” Mick scoffed. “What kind of parenting is that?”

      “He’s little more than a year old,” Connor protested. “Right now he needs his mother more than he needs me. When he’s a little older, he’ll spend more time with me.”

      “And he’ll still grow up to complain that he hardly knew his daddy,” Mick said, then held up a hand to forestall Connor’s retort. “Pot calling the kettle black, I know, but that makes me the voice of experience. Don’t let these precious years pass by without being a part of them. Learn from my mistakes.”

      Connor considered another quick, heated comeback, but instead dropped down onto the dock next to little Mick. “Hey, buddy, catch anything?”

      His son gave him a wide grin and happily waved his tiny fishing rod in the air. He crawled off Mick’s lap to lean into Connor’s side, snuggling close, and reminding Connor in ways that Mick’s words never could, of just what his stubbornness was costing him.

      When the quilt shop had emptied of customers around lunchtime, Heather called next door and reached Megan. “Do you have a minute?”

      “Jane’s about to go pick up a couple of sandwiches, so I can’t leave just now. What’s going on?”

      “Could you just meet me out front? We’ll both be able to see if any customers come this way.”

      “Sure. Do you want Jane to bring back something for you, too?”

      Food was the last thing on Heather’s mind. All she’d been able to think about for the past hour was Connor’s unexpected appearance earlier.

      “If she’s going to Sally’s, have her bring me back a tuna fish sandwich on a croissant,” she said eventually. “I’ll bring the money outside with me now.”

      “Will do. See you in a minute,” Megan promised.

      One of the improvements the town had made along Main Street and Shore Road had been to add benches in front of many of the shops. It allowed weary shoppers to rest for a few minutes, but even more essential, it allowed bored husbands to relax outside, instead of pacing around casting daunting looks that cut short their wives’ shopping sprees.

      Though the sun was warm, the breeze off the bay was cool. Heather pulled on a sweater, then sat outside to wait for Megan. When Connor’s mother joined her, she sighed as she sat down.

      “This feels so good,” Megan said. “I’ve been on my feet all morning. I shouldn’t complain, because that means business has been good. How about you? Were you busy?”

      “Swamped,” Heather said. “Mostly lookers, but I did have a couple of nice sales.”

      Megan regarded her intently. “Then why don’t you look happier?”

      “Connor’s here,” she announced, watching Megan closely for a reaction.

      “Really? He didn’t let any of us know he was coming.”

      “But you knew he might be coming home, didn’t you? You don’t sound all that surprised.”

      Megan shrugged. “I hoped he’d be home soon, of course, but I didn’t know his plans.”

      Heather still didn’t believe Megan was as clueless as