Harbour Lights. Sherryl Woods

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tall and gave him a peck on his cheek. “Just thought you might want to know.”

      He let that pass. And tomorrow, if he had a grain of sense in his head, he’d find some excuse to be anywhere other than Main Street. Not only did he not want to get sucked into Shanna’s life, but he also didn’t want to give his sister even an iota of encouragement for this undisguised matchmaking scheme of hers.

      Mick was sick of seeing his son hanging around the house. For months now he’d cut Kevin some slack. He’d figured it took time to recover from losing his wife. Maybe just as much to recover from being in a war zone, despite Kevin’s claim that he’d put all that behind him when he’d been discharged. Kevin had had enough nightmares under this very roof to make a liar out of himself, though Mick was sure Kevin thought no one knew about those.

      Mick had listened to everyone else’s opinion that Kevin needed time, but to his way of thinking, time was up. A thirty-year-old man needed a focus in his life, a reason to get up in the morning, something beyond a demanding two-year-old. Mick intended to see that Kevin got busy finding that new direction for himself.

      He found Kevin on the beach, staring out to sea while Davy built a lopsided sand castle beside him. The structure of it offended Mick’s architectural eye, but he shook off the desire to sit down and teach his grandson how to build something that would withstand the first lap of a wave. This walk down to the beach wasn’t about giving his grandson an engineering lesson he wasn’t ready for.

      “Grampa,” Davy said, looking up at him with glee. “Play with me, okay?”

      “Maybe later, sport,” Mick told him. He turned to Kevin. “You have plans for the day?”

      Kevin shook his head.

      “Good. Then you can come with me.”

      “Where?” Kevin asked suspiciously.

      “I’m managing one of the Habitat for Humanity sites. I could use some help.”

      Kevin pulled his sunglasses down on his nose and eyed Mick skeptically. “Really? You’re volunteering?”

      “Yes, I’m volunteering,” Mick said irritably. “It was your grandmother’s idea, and it was a good one.”

      “And your company?”

      “Can pretty much run itself these days,” Mick said. At first that discovery hadn’t pleased him. He’d always thought of himself as indispensable, but now he’d recognized the advantages of having more free time. He was spending quite a lot of it in New York with his ex-wife. The rest he was devoting to building these houses for Habitat for Humanity. They’d been thrilled to have someone with his level of expertise on a site. With his contractor skills, he could juggle several locations at once and keep construction flowing on all of them. And he had contacts in the trades all over Maryland and wasn’t above twisting anyone’s arm to get a few free hours of help with the skilled carpentry, electrical and plumbing work.

      “Okay, let’s say I can swallow this new, compassionate, giving role of yours,” Kevin said, his tone wry. “Where exactly do you see me fitting in? You pretty much banished me from every job site you were ever on. As you were so fond of pointing out, I have absolutely no construction skills. I believe you mentioned a time or two that I was a disgrace.” He grinned. “You weren’t wrong.”

      To Mick’s dismay, Kevin was right about that. It had been a sad day when he’d realized that neither of his sons knew one end of a hammer from the other and, worse, didn’t care. They couldn’t even paint a room without making a mess of it.

      Still, he said optimistically, “You’re not too old to learn. A lot of volunteers aren’t experienced.”

      “But won’t it be embarrassing when the son of the great architect Mick O’Brien puts up a wall that falls right back down?”

      Mick chuckled despite himself. “You have a point.” He studied his son with a worried frown. “So, what are you going to do with yourself?”

      “Today? I thought I’d hang out here for a while with Davy, then maybe run some errands.”

      Mick barely managed to keep his irritation out of his voice. “You know I’m not just asking about today. What’s your long-term plan, Kevin?”

      “No idea,” he said succinctly and without remorse.

      “There are paramedic openings here in town,” Mick said.

      “So I’m told,” Kevin admitted. “I’m not interested.”

      “Then what does interest you?” Mick asked impatiently, then could have bitten his tongue. He’d vowed to build a bridge with his son, not destroy the rare bit of peace between them.

      At his raised voice, Davy looked up, his chin wobbling precariously, his eyes filling with tears. The look tore at Mick’s heart. He bent down and scooped up his grandson.

      “Hey, big fella, what about you? You want to come with Grampa today?”

      Kevin frowned at that. “You can’t have a two-year-old running around a construction site,” he objected.

      “I’m only going by for an hour or two to check a few things. I have a hard hat somewhere around here that’s just his size. I won’t let him out of my sight. You could ride along with us, if you’re worried about him.”

      “Nice try, Dad, but contrary to whatever impression I gave you earlier, I actually do have things to do.”

      “Such as?” Mick pushed.

      The simple question seemed to throw Kevin. Clearly he needed time to invent an excuse.

      “I’m going into town,” he said eventually. “For?”

      “What difference does it make why I’m going? Isn’t the goal to get poor, depressed Kevin out of the house?” He stood up and stalked off.

      Mick stood, staring after him, and sighed.

      “Daddy go bye-bye,” Davy said sadly.

      Mick gave his grandson a hug. “That’s okay, pal. We’re going bye-bye, too, and something tells me we’re going to have a lot more fun.”

      And, truth be told, knowing that ripped him apart inside.

      3

      Despite his resolve the day before, Kevin found himself on Main Street in front of the bookstore. He was only here because he was so annoyed with his father, and he might have walked right on past, but his sister chose that moment to step outside of Flowers on Main, the shop she’d opened over a year ago.

      “Well, well, look who’s here,” she said cheerfully. “You came to help Shanna, after all. Good for you.”

      “Maybe I came to help you,” he muttered, embarrassed at having been caught anywhere in the vicinity after making such a big show about his determination to steer clear of the town’s new bookseller. He watched anxiously to see if his sister would buy that he’d come to see her.

      Bree regarded him with a speculative expression. “Okay,”

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