Megan looked resigned. “If you two want to plot, go right ahead. Set things in motion. In the end, though, this has to be Connor’s decision. No pressure from either one of you. Is that understood?”
Nell scowled at her. “When have you ever known me to pressure anyone in this family? I’ll put a bug in Joshua’s ear. What happens after that is up to the two of them.”
Megan turned to Mick. “And you?”
“I’ll stay out of it,” Mick promised. “Trust me, Connor’s going to see the advantages of this all on his own.”
Megan gave a nod of satisfaction, obviously pleased by his response. To his shock, though, tears welled in her eyes. “I do hope you’re right about this, Mick. There’s nothing I’d like more than to have Connor home again. I feel as if all the unfinished business between us will never be settled until we spend more time together. Even though things have been better lately, with Connor living in Baltimore he can still avoid me whenever he wants to.”
“It’ll happen,” Mick said confidently. He’d see to it. Not only was his wife’s peace of mind at stake, so was Connor’s future.
* * *
In mid-June Connor had an unexpected call from Joshua Porter, who’d established his law practice in Chesapeake Shores the year the town was founded.
“Next time you’re in town, I’d like to meet with you,” the attorney said. “I have a proposition for you.”
“What kind of proposition?” Connor asked skeptically. Porter was older than his father, and they’d never exactly traveled in the same circles. In fact, Connor seemed to recall some animosity between Porter and Mick when Porter had helped Uncle Thomas with a legal action that had backed Mick into a corner during the development of the town. Mick had never forgiven either of them for that.
“I’m thinking of retiring, and I’m looking for someone to take over my practice,” Porter said. “You’re the first person I thought of.”
“I don’t do estate law, property law or traffic cases,” Connor said, knowing that was the backbone of a small-town practice. “And I live in Baltimore.”
“Your roots are here,” Porter reminded him. “And the way I hear it, you have a boy here who could use more of your attention.”
Connor sighed. “You’ve been talking to my father.”
The older man gave a dry chuckle. “To your grandmother, actually. She seems to think you might be ready for a change. Is she right? Can we meet or not?”
Connor hesitated. The idea of moving back to Chesapeake Shores had never occurred to him, not when he was on a trajectory to make partner at the firm in Baltimore within the next year or so. Then again, Heather and his son were there, and if nothing else, the past few months had taught him that being separated from them wasn’t going to get easier. Add in that he’d had another week of dealing with the likes of Paul Lacey and his on-again, off-again decision to divorce his wife, and Connor was more open to Porter’s suggestion than he otherwise might have been.
“I’ll drive down tomorrow afternoon,” he said eventually.
After the troubling thoughts he’d been having lately, maybe the fates were conspiring to show him the path his life could take. More likely, though, it was just Gram taking matters into her own hands and showing her unique intuition about what he needed even before he’d recognized it himself.
* * *
Connor had hoped to slip in and out of town without anyone in the family being the wiser. He didn’t want to stir up false hopes. Nor did he want the pressure of all the O’Briens chiming in with their two cents about the decision he might be facing. Until he actually met with Porter, he had no idea if moving back to Chesapeake Shores was a realistic option or not.
Connor had thought the location of Porter’s office, which was attached to his home on a side street a few blocks from Main, would work to his advantage. He’d even scheduled the appointment for late in the day. What he hadn’t counted on was the attorney’s lack of discretion or the town’s grapevine, one of which had to be responsible for the sight of a very familiar classic Mustang convertible sitting in Porter’s driveway—which meant Mick was inside. Connor heaved a sigh and almost drove right on by, but cowardice wasn’t in his nature.
He parked on the street, then walked past the weathered shingle hanging on a post in the yard and into the office, where he was greeted by Chelsea Martin, who’d been a cheerleader back when Connor was playing ball. She beamed at him.
“When I saw your name on today’s schedule, I couldn’t believe my eyes, Connor,” she said, bubbling with enthusiasm. “How long has it been?”
“I’m guessing high school graduation,” he said.
“You’ve forgotten the bonfire on the beach a few days after that?” she teased. “I do believe we made out that night. I thought for sure you’d call.”
Connor winced. “What can I say? I was a cad back then.”
“Word around town is that you still are,” she said cheerfully. “Everyone just loves Heather and that adorable son of yours.”
“So do I,” he muttered, wondering if Chelsea was likely to be part of the package he’d be inheriting if he came back to town. Her clear-eyed view of him and his transgressions might be awkward.
“By the way, your father and grandmother are in with Mr. Porter now. I’ll let them know you’re here. They should be wrapping things up soon.”
Okay, so maybe Mick’s presence wasn’t part of some conspiracy, he concluded. Perhaps he’d just driven Gram over for an appointment. Then again, the timing was suspect.
As soon as Chelsea buzzed her boss, the door to the office opened and Joshua Porter waved him in. He looked to be at least eighty, with
