Driftwood Cottage. Sherryl Woods

       3

      At six o’clock, with the last customer gone, Heather locked the shop’s front door and began counting her receipts for the day. Sales had been decent for this early in the season, but things were going to have to get a whole lot better if she was to pay the bills and support herself with this business.

      At a tap on the front door, she looked up, expecting to see Shanna with the boys, but it was Connor who stood there, their son in his arms.

      “Shanna got held up at the store, so Kevin picked up Davy and Henry. I said I’d bring little Mick to you.” He set his son down on the shiny wood floor.

      Though he’d started walking weeks ago, when he wanted to move fast, Mick had reverted to crawling. Now he fell to all fours and shot across the room to grab on to her leg.

      “Hi, big boy,” Heather said, scooping him up, then meeting Connor’s gaze. “Thanks. Anything else?”

      “I thought maybe we could grab a bite to eat,” Connor said, hands shoved into his back pockets. He looked surprisingly vulnerable for a man who could command a courtroom and sway juror opinions.

      “Why?” she asked.

      “To catch up?”

      It was more of a question than an answer, which again showed just how ill-at-ease he was. Heather smiled despite her determination to keep him at arm’s length. It would be way too easy to forget all about her resolve and drift back into a relationship with this man, a relationship that would go nowhere, not because they didn’t love each other but because he wouldn’t allow it. No matter how much it hurt, she had to keep reminding herself that what he was able to give wasn’t enough.

      “Thanks, but I don’t think so,” she said softly.

      “It’s a burger and some fries, not a lifetime commitment,” he protested.

      “And isn’t that exactly the problem?” she replied. “Have dinner with your family, Connor, or a friend. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

      “You and I are friends,” he said stubbornly. “I miss my best friend.”

      “So do I,” she admitted, “but things aren’t that simple, Connor. Not anymore. What you’re offering just isn’t enough for me. I owe it to myself and little Mick not to settle for so little.”

      “Friendships last a whole lot longer than most marriages,” he countered, as he had all too often in the past when defending his decision never to wed.

      “Probably because friends are more forgiving than spouses,” Heather replied, as she had before. “Or because people don’t understand that they have to work at marriage. Relationships are never static. They have to evolve over time as the individuals in them change.”

      Connor frowned. “You still believe in marriage, don’t you? Despite all the evidence you’ve seen that it never lasts or that people wind up being miserable, you still have this optimistic view that love can conquer everything.”

      “I do,” she said. “I know I grew up with a lousy example in my own life, but that just made me want to try harder to be sure my own marriage is everything it can be. I know I have what it takes to get through the rough patches.”

      “Then why not look at this as one of those rough patches and work through it?” he asked with apparent frustration.

      “Toward what?” she asked reasonably. She waved her hand when he didn’t come up with an answer. “Never mind. We’ve been over all of this before. Why belabor it? I respect your decision, Connor. I just don’t agree with it.”

      “I never lied to you, Heather,” Connor said, his voice again filled with frustration. “You knew how I felt almost from the day we met. I didn’t change the rules at the last minute.”

      “I’m not accusing you of that. I just think it’s sad that you made such a rule based on what happened with your parents. They’ve gotten over the past. Why can’t you?” She tilted her head and studied him. “You know what I hope? I hope you don’t go through your entire life not taking chances, not grabbing on to life. If you keep holding a part of yourself back, never committing to anyone, it would be such a waste.”

      “You act as if marriage is the only commitment that matters,” he said irritably. “It’s a piece of paper, Heather. That’s all. It’s only as strong as two people want it to be.”

      “Oh, Connor,” she said, shaking her head sorrowfully. She knew he believed that, which was probably the saddest part of all. “We’re never going to agree about this. I think you should go. I have things to finish up in here, and then I have to feed little Mick and put him to bed.”

      For a moment, he looked as if he might prolong the argument, but then he just gave her a curt nod and left.

      “Daddy!” little Mick said mournfully, staring after him.

      Heather hugged her son just a little bit tighter. “You’ll see Daddy again tomorrow, sport. Grandpa Mick and all your uncles will be there, too.”

      Whether Connor was around or not, at least her son wouldn’t be lacking when it came to strong male role models. She just couldn’t help wishing that his daddy would be the most important one.

      Rather than going home, Connor drove over to The Inn at Eagle Point, hoping to find his sister Jess there. Jess was younger, which meant she still thought he hung the moon, despite all evidence to the contrary.

      Better yet, she was single, which meant she had little to say on the subject of his reluctance to wed the mother of his child. All of his other siblings were now so happily wed and starry-eyed, they could no longer seem to grasp his point of view. How they’d accomplished that given the example they’d all grown up with was beyond him.

      He found Jess in the inn’s cluttered office with a mountain of paperwork spread out on the desk in front of her.

      “This is what you do for excitement on a Saturday night?” he taunted, settling down in a chair and propping his feet on the desk.

      “It is when it’s the end of the month and I haven’t touched any of these papers until now,” she said. “If Abby catches sight of this mess, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

      “I thought our big sister hired an accountant to take care of the bills,” Connor said, referring to Abby’s intervention a few years earlier to keep the inn from bankruptcy before it even got its doors open.

      “She did, but there are still some things only I can handle,” Jess said with a sigh. “It’s the most boring part of the job.”

      “Which is why you neglect it,” Connor guessed.

      She nodded. “Exactly. At least you’re not blaming it on my attention deficit disorder,” she said. “Everyone else does. Any time I mess up, it’s because of the ADD. I’m tired of people using that as an excuse when I let things slide. Sometimes a screwup is just a screwup.”

      “Are you referring to a specific mistake or yourself?” Connor asked, his gaze narrowing. “Because nobody calls my sister a screwup.”

      She grinned. “Thanks, but sometimes that’s exactly what I am. I’m sure Abby would be happy to fill you in on all the ways I’ve messed up. I’ll bet she keeps lists.”

      He hated hearing Jess talk about herself in such disparaging terms. She’d overcome a lot of difficulties to achieve everything she had. “In the end, though, you’ve made a success of the inn, Jess,” he reminded her. “You should be proud. All the rest of us are, Abby included.”

      “Mostly I am,” she admitted, then sighed. “I suppose I’m just having those end-of-the-month blues tonight.”

      She leaned back and propped her own feet on the desk. “So what brings you to town, especially on a Saturday night? Did