Flowers on Main (39 page)

She wondered how Mick would feel about her turning the tables on him. She had a certain amount of trepidation, especially knowing how his surprise had nearly gone terribly awry, but she concluded it was worth the risk. She had a feeling she
and Mick would do better in the long run if their lives took some unexpected twists and turns. Mick thrived on unpredictability. And though she was happier in a routine, she could see how the unexpected kept things interesting.

When she arrived at the house, only Nell was there to greet her. Her eyes warmed with welcome, the way they always had before Megan had left her son.

“Come in, come in,” Nell urged. “Did Mick know you were coming? He didn’t mention it.”

Megan shook her head. “I decided to surprise him. Is he around?”

“He’s in town, though goodness knows where. He said something about stopping in to see the mayor, then going to Bree’s shop. He’ll probably have lunch somewhere along the way.”

“Should I go and look for him?” Megan wondered aloud. “Or wait for him here?”

“Why don’t you at least stay here long enough to have tea with me,” Nell suggested, already reaching for the chintz china teacups she favored. “We’ve had too few good chats since you’ve been popping in and out for visits.”

Megan listened carefully to her former mother-in-law’s words. There was nothing openly hostile in her remarks, but she sensed a reserve, maybe even a hint of disapproval.

“I’d love to have tea with you,” Megan said honestly. Even if Nell had an agenda, it was important that they get back the easy relationship they’d once had.

“Bree brought home some of Sally’s raspberry croissants last night. Would you like one of those?”

“I shouldn’t,” Megan protested, then grinned. “But I will.”

Nell laughed. “They are hard to resist, aren’t they? It’s a good thing Bree doesn’t bring them home every day.”

“How’s she doing?”

“Great, as far as I know,” Nell told her. “She didn’t come home last night, which tells me things are on again between her and Jake.”

Megan couldn’t decide how she ought to feel about that. She hadn’t been here when the relationship had ended, had little sense of which one of them had been at fault. “Is that a good thing?” she asked Nell.

“This time, I believe it is. They were too young before. Jake fell for her in junior high and knew practically from the beginning that he wanted a future with her. Bree had her own dreams. She’s lived the life she needed to live. Now I think she’s ready for what Jake can offer her and he’s ready to support her in what she needs to be happy.”

“What do you think he can offer her?”

“The love of a good man, of course. Jake’s as solid as they come.” She gave Megan a wink. “Easy on the eyes, too.”

Megan laughed. “He is that.” After a moment, her expression sobered. “I envy you, Nell. Have I ever told you that?”

“Heavens, no. Why?”

“Because you were here. There was so much I missed. My own fault, I know, but there are so many gaps in time, things in my children’s lives that I know nothing about. I feel as if I’m starting from scratch with each of them. They’ve all grown up while I wasn’t looking. The people they’ve become…” She shrugged. “Most of that’s your doing.”

“Nonsense. You influenced them, too. Except for Jess, you had a lot of time with them in their formative years. Ironically, though, Jess is the most like you. She’s restless. I’m not just talking about the attention-deficit thing. She’s not comfortable yet in her own skin. Oh, she loves that inn of hers, but beyond that, I’m not sure she has any idea what she wants.”

“I’ve always known what I wanted,” Megan countered. “I wanted Mick. I wanted my family.”

“And yet you left for more.”

“No, I left because I’d lost Mick, at least for all intents and purposes. I didn’t see how we could ever get back what we’d once had.”

“Spending time with another man, however innocently that happened, wasn’t the best way to win him back,” Nell said, her tone chiding.

Megan winced at the direct hit. “No question about that. It was the second-worst mistake of my life.”

“What was the worst?” Nell asked, her expression curious.

“Leaving Mick and my kids. I was so sure Mick would come after me.” She saw Nell’s skeptical expression. “I know. I should have realized his pride would never allow that. At any rate, when that didn’t happen, I believed I’d at least have the kids with me in New York. I should have fought harder for that, but Kevin was so angry and disillusioned, Connor just wanted to be here with his friends, and the girls—well, they adored Mick. I didn’t see how I could tear them away from him and their life here. I tried coming here frequently for weekend visits, but you saw firsthand how that went. They either ignored me or expressed their anger in other ways. Everything I did—even what I didn’t do—was a mistake. Believe me, I’ve lived to regret all of it.”

Nell studied her. “I think you have. They’re giving you a second chance, though, even Mick. Don’t blow it this time.”

Megan smiled at her fierce warning. “I don’t intend to,” she said then added, “But Mick needs to do his part, as well.”

“He finally sees that,” Nell assured her, then patted her hand. “I’m glad we’ve had a chance to talk, Megan. I’ve missed sitting right here at this table with you, just like this.”

“I’ve missed it, too,” she replied without hesitation. “You were never just my mother-in-law, you know. You were my friend.”

Nell looked pleased by the comment. “Well, then, as your friend, I suggest you go track down my son. I’d start at Bree’s shop. Those two have big plans. Make sure they tell you all about them.”

Megan was intrigued. “You don’t even want to give me a hint?”

Nell shook her head. “Not my news to tell. Run along, Megan. I’ll put your bag upstairs.”

“I can do that.”

Nell’s jaw set stubbornly. “And so can I.”

“Okay, then, I’m off. See you later.”

She was almost out the door, when Nell called after her.

“This surprise visit of yours, Megan…”

“Yes?”

“It’s a good thing. Mick will think so, too.”

“I hope you’re right about that,” she said. She supposed she’d know soon enough.

Mick had had a frank, exploratory conversation with Bobby Clark to try to garner the mayor’s support for the community-theater project. At first Bobby had been unreceptive to the idea, so Mick had spoken to a few of Bobby’s political backers, who’d shared their more open-minded opinions with him. This morning Bobby had gotten on board, indicating a willingness to take the idea before the town council at their next meeting for a preliminary discussion.

“In other words, you bullied him into it,” Bree concluded after her father had described the meeting.

“I got results,” Mick countered.

His daughter gave him an exasperated look. “Wouldn’t it have been better to persuade Bobby to your way of thinking?”

“The end result is what counts,” Mick argued. “He’ll back us on this.”

“But without much enthusiasm, I suspect.”

“You handle business your way. I’ll handle it mine,” he said, annoyed that she wasn’t more pleased by what he’d accomplished. Bobby Clark could have been a major obstacle if Mick hadn’t called in the big guns, the men who provided most of Bobby’s backing for election campaigns.

He was about to tell her she was being naive when the door to the shop opened and Megan walked in. “Meggie!” he said, the discussion with Bree forgotten. “I had no idea you were coming today.”

She beamed at his reaction. “That was the whole idea. You’re pleased to see me?”

“Of course I am,” he said, then planted a hard kiss on her lips.

They were interrupted by a less-than-subtle cough from Bree. “Excuse me, public place, daughter present,” she chided, though her eyes were filled with laughter. “I’d hate to have to suggest that you two go and get a room.”

Mick kept Megan’s small hand in his and pulled her to his side. “You have five minutes to exchange small talk with our daughter,” he told her. “Then you and I are getting out of here.”

“And going where?” Megan inquired, her look challenging him.

“Personally, I like Bree’s idea about the room, but I’m thinking you’ll be happier going to lunch and then for a walk on the beach. It’s a lovely fall day we’re having. There won’t be many more to come with Thanksgiving right around the corner.” He regarded her with a frown. “Do you have a sweater with you? It’s likely to be breezy on the beach.”

Megan’s eyes glittered with anticipation. “I came from New York where it was in the forties this morning, so of course I have a sweater. And lunch and a walk sound lovely, if you have the time. Nell says you’ve been out throwing your influence around to get something or other done. She wouldn’t say what.”

“I’ll let Bree fill you in,” Mick said. “Though if she starts saying I’ve gone about it all wrong, I’ll have to jump in with my version.”

“Well, you have,” Bree countered.

“Bulldozer tactics,” Megan guessed.

“Hey, don’t the two of you start ganging up on me,” Mick protested, though he was enjoying the whole exchange. He was pretty sure nothing could ruin the mood that Megan’s unexpected arrival had put him in.

Bree filled her mother in on their plans. When she concluded, Megan applauded. “That’s fantastic! I’m so excited for you. Sweetheart, this is absolutely perfect. I just know you’ll have the best theater company in the country in no time.”

“Let’s not get overly ambitious,” Bree cautioned. “I’ll be satisfied if we can just stay artistically exciting and operate in the black.”

“You’ll do it,” Megan said. “Your instincts are a thousand times better than that man’s.”

“Marty wasn’t responsible for all of the artistic decisions in Chicago,” Bree said.

“No, but he was responsible for sapping all the creativity out of the best playwright they’d ever had,” Megan said with feeling.

Bree rolled her eyes. “Now,
there’s
a total lack of objectivity if ever I’ve heard it.”

“And on that note, I suppose we should head out,” Mick said, figuring they’d beaten that particular horse enough for
one day. If Megan persisted or he chimed in, Bree was likely to start defending Marty and they’d wind up in an argument.

Bree came around the counter to hug her mother. “I’m so glad you’re here. Will I see you at the house later?”

“Unless your father tosses me out,” Megan said.

“Not a chance of that happening,” Mick said, reaching for her hand again. He liked the way it felt in his, liked knowing that he had at least some small claim on her again.

One of these days they’d get back everything they’d once had. For the first time in his life, he didn’t feel the need to hurry things along. He’d discovered that sometimes anticipation was its own reward.

It was three weeks before Thanksgiving by the time Bree and Jake finally fell into an easy pattern that felt natural to both of them. She was actually starting to believe they’d really make it this time. He was beginning to trust her again, and she was almost certain he’d forgiven her.

And she was a hundred percent sure she was in love with him, that this time when he offered her a future, she’d accept with no misgivings at all.

Which made it a real kick in the pants when she looked up from her meal with Jake at the inn and spotted Marty striding across the dining room. When he hadn’t shown up right after her conversation with Rebecca, she’d been so sure that something like this would never happen. How typical of him to lull her into a false sense of complacency.

As he crossed the room, heads turned. He was a striking man with his hair swept back from a widow’s peak, his chiseled cheekbones and high brow. He was dressed in jeans—not faded and well worn like Jake’s, but designer denim with a well-pressed crease. His cream-colored shirt was
a fancy silk blend and she suspected the sweater he wore over it was cashmere.

As always, he somehow managed to look thoroughly in command of the situation as he walked up to their table, dragged a chair over and sat down without waiting for an invitation. Across from her, Jake tensed. Bree couldn’t think of a thing to do except introduce them for the second time in her life and pray that the awkward moment didn’t last.

“Jake Collins, Marty Demming. You met before, of course, when Marty and I worked together in Chicago.”

A lift of Marty’s brow spoke volumes. Jake saw it and his fist clenched.

“It was a bit more than that, if we’re going to be totally honest,” Marty said, deliberately ignoring the tension. Though his tone was jovial, there was no mistaking his attempt to claim possession.

“Why are you here?” Bree demanded, losing patience and unwilling to be polite a second longer. If he was here to ruin her life for a second time, she didn’t intend to give him the chance.

“The theater wants to produce your last play, the one you finished writing just before you left,” he said, catching her by surprise. “We’ll want you back there for the rehearsals. Next week, if at all possible.”

She regarded him with astonishment. This was an angle she hadn’t expected. Though the proposal might have been tempting under other circumstances, right now she wasn’t remotely interested in going back.

“It’s not possible,” she said firmly.

“The following week, then,” Marty suggested, deliberately misunderstanding. “Though that’s cutting it close if we expect to have this production ready by the middle of January. You see the sacrifices we’re willing to make to have you back?”

“I’m not coming back,” Bree said.

“Of course you are,” Marty countered, his confidence undaunted. “Chicago is where you belong. I heard all about your plans to open a little theater here, but why would you waste your talent in a place like this when you could be successful in a major city? You’re destined for big things, Bree. You had a couple of setbacks, sure, but you’re talented. You belong where you can make the most of that talent.”

This was the Marty Bree remembered from her first days in Chicago—smooth, charming, saying all the right things to convince her she was the best writer he’d ever mentored. Now she found she didn’t trust a word coming out of his mouth. So, she had learned from her mistakes, she thought in wonder.