Her expression turned nostalgic. “Nobody could make me laugh like your father could. And there was many a night in the early days when I’d go with him to the Irish pub down the block just to hear him sing. The man has a voice like an angel. I think that’s why I fell in love with him.”
Heather tried to recall a single time she’d heard her father sing, but none came to mind. “He never sang at home, not even in the shower,” she said. “I would have heard him.”
“He did in the early years,” Bridget told her. “And he sang you to sleep more than once when you were a baby and I couldn’t get you to stop crying.”
“I wish I could remember that,” Heather said wistfully. What she remembered most was a handsome man who seldom smiled and had little to say. Though he rarely yelled and had never lifted a hand to her, she’d always had the sense she needed to tiptoe around him, taking care not to anger him. There were none of the warm, loving memories all of the O’Briens seemed to have of Mick. It was as if her father had been there, but hadn’t been involved in her life, almost a stranger on the fringes of it. And yet she had adored him, had longed for his approval just as most young girls did with their fathers.
“Do you want to stay in Chesapeake Shores?” Heather asked tentatively. “You could go on working with me at the quilt shop. It won’t pay much, but if you stay here with me, your living expenses will be modest.”
Her mother looked touched by the offer. “Sweetheart, thank you for that. I have to admit, the thought has crossed my mind more than once since I’ve been here, but I just don’t know.”
“Is that because you don’t want to stay?” Heather asked. “Or because you don’t think you should?”
“Mostly the latter,” her mother said candidly, “though not for the reason you’re probably thinking. It’s not that I think leaving your father permanently is wrong. I just wonder if I won’t be in the way here. I don’t want to be the reason you and Connor don’t work things out.”
“What’s happening between Connor and me has nothing to do with you,” Heather protested. “We agreed long ago not to get married.”
“But things have changed,” her mother protested. “That was Connor’s decision back then, not yours. Now, it seems he’s changed his mind. What I don’t understand is your reluctance to accept his proposal.”
Heather sighed. “That does seem to be the question of the day,” she said. “I’m not sure I have an answer to it.”
Her mother patted her hand. “Then you need to spend some time thinking about it because if I’ve figured out one thing about that young man of yours, it’s that he’s not patient.”
“Well, I’ve waited this long for him to come to his senses, now he can wait for me to catch up with him,” Heather said with a touch of defiance.
Bridget’s gaze narrowed. “So, this is payback?”
Heather was stunned by the observation. “Of course not,” she said at once.
But was it? Or was Connor right that the turmoil in her mother’s life, which she now understood more clearly, had shaken her faith in marriage? She simply didn’t know.
But her mother was right about one thing. She needed to figure it out, and she needed to do it quickly before she lost everything she’d ever wanted.
* * *
On Saturday, a few minutes after the quilting class had ended downstairs, Connie burst into Heather’s apartment.
“You need to come with me,” she declared urgently, pacing from one end of the small space to the other, clearly agitated. “Right now.”
Heather gestured toward her propped-up leg. “Hello! Not very mobile here.”
“I’ll get you down the stairs and into my car if I have to carry you myself,” Connie said.
Heather could see that her friend was thoroughly flustered. What she didn’t understand was why. “How about you sit down, take a deep breath and tell me what on earth has you in such a state?”
Connie kept right on pacing. “There’s no time. I have to get to one of those events for Thomas’s foundation—you know, the ones that Shanna and I have organized.”
“Okay,” Heather said slowly. “And you want me to come along?”
“You have to come along,” Connie corrected.
“Why? Do you need extra help? Did Shanna bail on you?”
“Shanna bailed, but that’s not the problem.”
“Sweetie, you’re going to have to spell this out for me, because I’m a little lost here. You know I’m willing to do whatever I can to help, but I need to have some clue about what that is.”
Connie stopped, sucked in a deep breath and blurted, “I think I’m falling for Uncle Thomas. I mean Thomas. He’s not my uncle, is he? That would be bad. But it’s pretty bad anyway because he’s my brother’s uncle-in-law, and he’s older than me.” She sighed and finally sank into a chair. “Am I insane or what?”
Even though she knew it was precisely the wrong thing to do, Heather chuckled. She tried to hide it, but the scowl on Connie’s face told her she’d been unsuccessful.
“I’m so sorry,” she apologized. “You’re obviously upset, and all I can think is how fantastic this is.”
“It is not fantastic,” Connie retorted. “Were you not listening to me? This practically shouts disaster.”
“How does he feel about you?” Heather asked.
Connie looked bewildered by the very logical question. “I have no idea. I guess he likes me well enough, but that’s the thing. He’s smart enough to know this is crazy. Even if there was some kind of attraction, he’d never do anything about it. I mean we’re practically family, for heaven’s sake. Just think of the furor.”
“You are not family,” Heather said firmly. “Let’s get that out of the way once and for all. And you’re
