with pride and a hint of belligerence.
“Might have made more sense to hire people and get it done sooner, so you could open.”
“I didn’t see it that way.”
“Obviously not.”
“Do you want to take a look around inside?” she asked, her expression hopeful, her tone filled with enthusiasm. “Maybe once you’ve seen how great it looks, you’ll be able to go back and tell your father to be patient.”
“It’s not that simple, Jess. I know he’s warned you that you’re getting too far behind. The bank looks at the bottom line, not at whether or not you’re doing a good job with a paintbrush.”
“When did you turn into a hard-ass, by-the-numbers guy like your dad? You weren’t that way when you were seeing my sister.” She gave him a considering look. “Or were you? Is that why the two of you split up?”
Trace stiffened. “You really don’t want to go there,” he warned. “Abby has nothing to do with this.”
“Doesn’t she? For all I know, you’re absolutely thrilled by the prospect of payback for whatever she did to you. She was the one who broke it off, wasn’t she?”
The comment was not only intrusive, it was insulting. “Dammit, Jess, you don’t know a thing about what happened back then and you sure as hell don’t know anything about me if you think I’d use you to get even with your sister.”
“Really?” she said, her expression innocent. “She’s coming back, you know. She’ll be here tomorrow.”
Trace tried not to let his immediate and unsteady reaction to the news show. “Tell her I said hey,” he said mildly. He started his bike. “See you around, Jess.”
Her show of defiance faltered. “What are you going to tell your father, Trace?”
“I have no idea,” he said candidly. He looked into her eyes. “But I will promise you this, it won’t have anything at all to do with Abby.”
She nodded slowly. “I’ll take you at your word about that.”
As he rode off toward town, though, he couldn’t help wondering if she should. When it came to his conflicted feelings for Abby O’Brien, his word might not be entirely trustworthy.
2
“Where are we going, Mommy? Tell us again,” Caitlyn commanded.
“When are we gonna get there?” Carrie whined. “We’ve been driving and driving forever. I wanna go home.”
“It’s barely been a half hour since we left the airport,” Abby told Carrie, her patience already frayed by the long security line at the airport in New York and the even more tedious wait at the car-rental counter in Baltimore. The flight itself, less than an hour from LaGuardia to BWI in Baltimore, had gone smoothly. The girls had been excited to be on a plane, but now they were tired and cranky and completely uninterested in the scenery as they drove south toward Chesapeake Shores. They might have been pacified by a stop for ice cream or some other treat, but Abby was determined not to reward them for bad behavior just to get a few minutes of peace.
“Why don’t you try to take a little nap?” she pleaded, glancing in the rearview mirror for a glimpse of them in their car seats. “When you wake up, you’ll be at Gram’s, and I know she’s going to have sugar cookies and milk for you. Remember how much you loved those when she baked them for you last time she visited us in New York?”
“I like chocolate chip better,” Carrie grumbled, clearly determined to be displeased about everything.
“Well, I love sugar cookies,” Caitlyn countered. “So I’ll eat them all.”
“No, you won’t!” Carrie screamed. “Mommy, tell her she can’t have all the cookies. Some are mine.”
Abby bit back a groan. “I’m sure there will be plenty of cookies for both of you. Now close your eyes. If you’re this impossible when we get there, you can forget about getting any treats. You’ll be going straight to bed.”
The girls fell silent, but another glance in the mirror revealed them making faces at each other. Abby let it pass. She needed to focus all of her attention on the traffic, which had increased at least tenfold since the last time she’d driven home. She could hardly wait to turn onto some of Maryland’s less-traveled roads.
Unfortunately, the traffic never completely let up. It seemed everyone had the same idea about heading to one of Maryland’s many seaside communities on a Friday night. Once, the only traffic nightmare had been getting to Ocean City or the other beaches along the Atlantic coast, but now it seemed people had discovered the smaller towns on the western shores of the bay, as well.
She pulled out her cell phone and hit Jess’s number on speed dial.
“The traffic is awful,” she said when her sister answered. “At this rate, it’s going to be another hour before we get there.”
“I’ll let Gram know,” Jess said. “I’m on my way over there now. Take a deep breath. I’m picking up crabs and I’ll have wine waiting.”
“Thank you, thank you,” Abby said. “See you soon.”
It turned out to be an hour and ten minutes before she could make the turn into the community of Chesapeake Shores. At last, though, the traffic had eased. She debated going straight to the house, but since the girls were finally asleep, she wound through downtown, getting reacquainted with the Main Street businesses that lined a four-block stretch from the waterfront up to the town square.
There was one visible vacancy, but all the other shop windows were filled with colorful displays. Barb’s Baby Boutique was next to Ethel’s Emporium, which carried everything from souvenirs and penny candy to fancy hostess gifts and locally produced jams and jellies. The Kitchen Store, which sold every gourmet gadget imaginable, was next to Seaside Gifts, where all the items had a nautical theme. There was a designer clothing store, which carried resort wear. And all of the stores had pots overflowing with colorful pansies and trailing vines by the doors and crisp blue-and-white awnings shading the windows. The pansies would be exchanged for bright red geraniums once spring turned to summer.
With her car window open, she drew in a deep breath of the familiar salt air, then heard the soft refrains of an outdoor concert drifting up from the banks of the bay. She’d forgotten about the tradition of free Friday-night performances in the band shell during the late spring, summer and early fall months when the weather drew crowds to the town. It was jazz tonight, a little heavy on the sax, it seemed to her.
She smiled, thinking of the debates she’d once had with her father about the appropriate mix of music for the early concerts. If it had been up to Mick and Gram, every week would have featured Irish singers and dancers.
“Mommy, I hear music,” Carrie murmured sleepily. “Are we going to a party?”
“Nope, but we’re almost home,” Abby told her. “Five minutes and we’ll be there.”
She turned away from downtown and took the shore road to the very end where it began a winding climb up a gentle hill. At
