“Because I knew it meant more to them,” Liz said, as she had about a hundred times after Josh had died. Nothing had seemed worth arguing over back then. “Now could we please change the subject?”
As soon as she saw the glint in her mother’s eyes, she quickly amended, “And not to Aidan.”
“Well, is there anything you do want to talk about?” her mother asked with a huff.
“How about your first impressions of Chesapeake Shores?”
The three women exchanged looks.
“There’s not much to it,” Danielle ventured.
“Of course, what there is seems to be charming,” LeeAnn said, sending a defiant look in their mother’s direction. “And the bay really is beautiful. It’s so peaceful.”
“When you’ve been to the Outer Banks as much as we have, the bay doesn’t seem like much,” her mother contradicted. “I could understand if you wanted to live by the ocean.”
Liz sighed. “This is perfect for me. Maybe once you’ve had a chance to walk around tomorrow and visit some of the shops and have lunch by the water, you’ll start to see it. Tomorrow night we have tickets for the local playhouse.”
“Oh, sweetie, do you really want to spend some of our limited time together at some little community production?” her mother asked, her disparagement plain.
“The woman who wrote this play and runs this little community playhouse,” Liz replied tartly, “has had plays produced on Broadway and in Chicago. Her works have been well reviewed by some of the most respected critics in the country. And several people in the cast perform in New York on a regular basis.”
Her mother looked taken aback by that. “You don’t have to take that tone with me. I didn’t know,” she said defensively.
“Could you just promise to be more open-minded?” Liz pleaded. “I love it here. The town is charming and the people have been very good to me. I hate that you don’t even want to give it half a chance.”
LeeAnn reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “We’ll try harder,” she promised.
Even Danielle nodded. “Of course we will. And if more of your friends are like Aidan Mitchell, we can’t wait to meet them, too.”
Liz noted that her mother made no such promise, but two out of three made the prospect of facing yet another day with her family almost bearable.
* * *
When Aidan arrived at the playhouse, he found his seat next to four empty spots, just as Liz had predicted. He glanced around and realized that they were surrounded by O’Briens. Mick and Megan were three rows in front, along with Nell and her husband, as well as Bree’s husband, Jake, and her older sister Abby with her family. Kevin and Shanna were in the next row with their kids, along with Thomas, Connie and Sean. Just in front of Aidan were Jess and Will, Mack and Susie, along with Connor and Heather. Though a few other people were interspersed with them, Aidan assumed they, too, were O’Briens.
Susie promptly turned around and gave him a broad grin. “Expecting anyone special?” she asked, nodding toward the vacant seats.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” he told her, refusing to confirm her apparent theory. “Bree only mentioned that she was leaving a ticket for me.”
Susie didn’t look as if she believed him. Suddenly her eyes lit up. “Thought so,” she said triumphantly.
Aidan didn’t have to turn around to know Liz was coming down the aisle with her mother and sisters.
“Look who’s here,” Susie said in a voice meant to carry to everyone in the family.
All O’Brien eyes focused on Liz, then Aidan. A satisfied murmur seemed to circulate that had him flushing and Liz looking as if she wanted to bolt.
The only person who didn’t look happy by this turn of events was Doris Benson. She looked as if she’d swallowed a particularly sour bite of lemon.
“You again!”
“Good evening,” Aidan said, stepping aside to let them into the row. “Nice to see you all again. I hope you’re enjoying your visit.”
Liz’s mother ignored him as she marched into the row and took her seat. Danielle and LeeAnn gave him apologetic looks, but were quick to make sure they got into the row ahead of Liz, leaving her to sit beside him.
“This is just great,” she murmured with a moan. “I’ll be up half the night listening to yet another lecture about how I’m disrespecting Josh’s memory.”
He frowned at her heartfelt dismay. “Seriously? After all this time?”
“Saints are meant to be worshipped for eternity. Hadn’t you heard?”
Aidan blinked at her bitter tone. He could see the strain around her eyes and in the set of her lips. On impulse, he took her hand in his and realized hers was freezing even though it was a warm night. When she tried to pull away, he held tight and massaged gently until he could feel some warmth returning.
“That’s better,” he said at last, but he didn’t release her hand.
She gave him a wry look. “That’s what you think. Maybe you should come by the house so you can share in the pleasure of the postevening conversation.”
“Happy to do it, if it would make things easier for you,” he told her.
She looked into his eyes for what seemed like an eternity, then shook her head in apparent disbelief. “You’d really do that, wouldn’t you? Even though you don’t owe me a thing and there’s nothing going on between us.”
His lips curved slightly at that. “Oh, sweetheart, there’s something going on. I think you’re the only one who hasn’t figured that out yet.”
Just then, with perfect timing, the lights went down and silence fell in the theater as the curtain slowly rose.
Aidan had absolutely no idea what the play was about, though he was certain from the frequent laughter and applause that it had to be good. The only thing he knew he was going to remember about the night, though, was that Liz never again tried to remove her hand from his and that nothing he
