Willow Brook Road

“Sure, let’s take a look,” he said. “I’ll give you a call and we can set it up.”

“You don’t want to look this morning? I have time.”

“Don’t push,” Mack said quietly. “Sam has a lot to do.”

“Anything more important than this?” Susie asked, her voice tight.

With Mack’s steady gaze holding hers, she finally backed down. She reached in her purse and handed Sam a business card. “Call me whenever you’re ready. But houses don’t stay on the market long here,” she cautioned.

Sam nodded, then turned to Bobby, noting that he was making slow but steady progress through a stack of pancakes more suited to Sam’s appetite than a boy’s. “You doing okay, buddy?”

Bobby nodded happily, his mouth full. When he’d swallowed, he took a big gulp of milk and said, “You were right, Sam. These are the best, even better than Mom’s.”

As if he’d suddenly realized what he said, his smile faded. “Is it okay that I like them?” he whispered. “It won’t make Mom mad, will it?”

“No way,” Sam said. “Your mom only wanted the very best for you always, whether it was pancakes or...” He searched his mind for something sufficiently yucky to appeal to Bobby’s sense of the ridiculous. He grinned. “Or escargots.”

Bobby wrinkled his nose. “What’s that?” he asked suspiciously.

“Snails,” Sam told him.

With Susie and Mack fighting smiles, Bobby made a gagging sound. “Mom would never make me eat snails.” He gave Sam a wary look. “You’re not gonna, either, are you?”

“They are considered a delicacy,” Sam told him.

Bobby’s jaw set stubbornly. “I don’t care. I’m not eating them.”

Sam laughed and ruffled his hair. “Okay. Good to know where you draw the line when it comes to food. No snails.”

“No snails,” Bobby repeated fervently. He bounced in his seat. “What are we gonna do today?”

Sam glanced at Mack, then back at his suddenly eager nephew. “I thought I’d play hooky and we could check out the shops on Main Street, maybe spend some time on the beach or swim in the pool. And I think I saw a playground on the town green. Would you like to check that out?”

“All right!” Bobby said with a fist pump that had everyone at the table smiling.

Sam breathed in a sigh of relief. Finally, after days of awkward, disapproving silences and difficult choices that had Bobby shifting from tantrums to outright rebellions, it seemed Sam had gotten something exactly right. Unfortunately, it was mostly thanks to Mack’s instincts and not his own.

* * *

Even after giving Jackson a bath and dressing him in clean clothes after the cereal debacle, Carrie discovered it was still surprisingly pleasant for a morning in early August. Rather than pushing his stroller straight over to her house, she headed for Main Street and then Shore Road.

Her first stop was Grandma Megan’s art gallery, which was currently showing an exhibition of Moira’s local photographs, many of them taken of O’Brien children, as well as other Chesapeake Shores residents. Luke’s wife had become a surprisingly successful photographer thanks to Megan’s contacts in the New York art world. Out of loyalty to Megan, Moira always insisted on a show here in town in late summer. It had the added advantage of giving her a solid stretch of time at home with Luke.

When Grandma Megan spotted Carrie with the baby, she rushed over to hold open the door.

“There’s my precious boy,” she cooed, leaning down to scoop Jackson out of the stroller.

“I’m delighted to see you, too,” Carrie said, amused by her grandmother’s complete lack of interest in anything other than her first great-grandchild.

Megan glanced up at her. “I fussed over you from the day you were born. It’s Jackson’s turn now.” She bounced the baby in her arms. “You’re almost too big for me to hold.”

“I’d suggest you not bounce him quite so energetically,” Carrie cautioned. “He’s just finished his breakfast.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time someone in this family spit up all over one of us,” Megan said dismissively.

“Didn’t you buy that scarf in Paris when you and Grandpa Mick went there for your second honeymoon?” Carrie asked. “Isn’t it your favorite?”

Her grandmother glanced down and shrugged. “I’ll just make your grandfather take me back to buy another one.”

“And he’d do it without batting an eye, wouldn’t he?” Carrie said, envying them the devotion they’d found together the second time around.

Apparently something in her voice alerted Megan that Carrie was in an odd mood. She returned Jackson to his stroller with a little pat, then turned to Carrie, giving her the full attention she’d apparently concluded was required. “Would you care for some tea? It’s Irish Breakfast tea, Nell’s favorite.”

“We should be going. You’re probably busy.”

“I’m never too busy for a visit with you. Sit. I’ll get the tea.”

When she came back, Carrie was pushing the stroller back and forth and watching Jackson fight sleep.

“Here’s your tea,” Megan said, handing her the delicate, old-fashioned chintz-patterned teacup. “Now tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I’m at loose ends,” Carrie admitted.

“No news there,” her grandmother agreed. “Any thoughts about what you intend to do about it?” She gave her a sly look. “Other than avoiding advice from your grandfather, that is?”

Carrie grinned. “How’d you guess?”

“The way you took off from the pub as if you didn’t hear him calling after you last night,” Megan said. “And the fact that you’re in here right now, rather than in your own house where you could put the baby down for his nap.”

“You know how Grandpa Mick is,” Carrie said.

“I most certainly do,” Megan replied. “That said, not all of his ideas should be dismissed so readily.”

“But I need to find my own ideas,” Carrie argued. “Isn’t that the whole point of growing up, to figure out what we’re meant to do? You didn’t exactly have a handle on it, did you? You were how old and had five kids at home, when you decided it wasn’t enough, divorced Grandpa Mick, moved to New York and discovered how much you loved art and working in a gallery?”

“Touché,” her grandmother said. “But there was a little more to the divorce than my running off to find myself.”

“I know that. It was because Grandpa Mick was a workaholic and you felt like he’d abandoned you to be a single mom, stuck at home with five kids.”

Megan smiled at what even Carrie knew to be a simplistic version of a very difficult time in her grandparents’ marriage.

“That does sum it up,” Megan acknowledged. “Or at least the heart of what happened. Here’s the difference between you and me. I didn’t know just how unhappy I was for a very long time, and I hurt a lot of people when I took off, including your mother and your aunts and uncles. I’ve spent a lot of time making amends for that. You have the advantage of being on your own. Now’s the perfect time for you to get serious about finding your dream. To make your mistakes when the only person likely to be hurt is you.”

Carrie met her sympathetic gaze. “You’re talking about Marc.”

“Not exactly. I’m talking about what you did to yourself. You worked yourself into exhaustion to impress a man who didn’t appreciate it,” Megan corrected. “The good news is that you had sense enough to leave before you were trapped by a marriage that was doomed.”

Carrie rolled her eyes. “Trust me, marriage was never on the table, except maybe in my fantasy. Marc had an entirely different agenda. He was a selfish, manipulative man who took advantage of the feelings he knew I had for him. I can see that now.”

“Good for you! You won’t make a similar mistake again, will you?”

“I sure hope not.”

Her grandmother studied her worriedly. “You’re not going to let that one mistake keep you from taking risks or opening your heart again, are you? Because that would be a real tragedy. You have so much potential, Carrie, so much love to give.”

“But I need a purpose,” Carrie told her. “Grandpa Mick has been harping on that ever since I left Europe.”

“And he’s right. Everyone needs a purpose, a passion that makes them want to get up in the morning.”

“So you think I’m wasting time, too?”

“No, I think you’re taking your time trying to avoid another mistake. That’s not you. You’re my impulsive, embrace-everything granddaughter, but suddenly you’re scared. I think that’s what I hate most about Marc Reynolds. He robbed you of that wonderful, spontaneous spirit that made you special. If I may offer one piece of advice, it’s this. Start taking chances again, Carrie. If something feels right, try it. If someone feels right, open your heart.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Carrie acknowledged. “Maybe I have been playing it safe.”

She gave her grandmother a plaintive look. “Or maybe I simply have no idea where to go from here.”

Her grandmother wrapped her in a tight embrace. “You’ll know it when it comes along. In the meantime, I’ll try to get your grandfather to give you some space.”

Carrie laughed. “Thanks for the offer, but we both know that’s a losing fight. I’ll just tune him out.”

She tried to imagine how well that would work and couldn’t. “I’d better get Jackson home. He’ll be awake again any minute and he tends to wake up cranky. We don’t want him scaring off your customers.”

“Wednesdays are usually slow. I’m not worried. I’m glad you came by, sweetheart.”

“Me, too. Love you.”

Surprisingly, though there had been no sudden bursts of inspiration during their conversation, Carrie felt at peace when she left. That lasted two whole blocks until she spotted Sam Winslow sitting on a bench by the playground, and his nephew heading straight for the top rungs of the jungle gym.

Carrie’s breath caught in her throat as she pushed the stroller as fast as she could in their direction. She didn’t dare call out for fear the boy would take a misstep and tumble straight to the ground.

With her eyes glued to the boy, she made it to the base of the jungle gym and stood there watching his every move, ready to catch him if he fell.

She sensed Sam’s approach, but never looked away.

“What were you thinking?” she said in a quiet voice. “Did you have any idea what he was doing?”

“Of course I did,” Sam said defensively, his welcoming smile immediately fading. “I’m not completely incompetent. Bobby’s been climbing jungle gyms since he was four. He’s a little daredevil.”

He leveled a look at her. “Don’t believe me?” He whipped out his cell phone and showed her a picture of a triumphant little boy atop another jungle gym with a woman who was clearly his mom standing watch just below, a tremulous smile on her lips.

“Your sister?” Carrie asked.

Sam nodded.

“She looks terrified.”

“But she let him do it,” Sam pointed out.

“The difference is she was standing right below in case he fell.”

“And I was sitting a few feet away. I may have looked distracted to you, but trust me, I saw his every move. And you saw firsthand how quickly I got over here when you turned up.”

“I suppose.”

“Carrie, I may be new at this, but I’m not going to let anything happen to Bobby. My sister trusted me to get it right, and I will.”

She looked into his eyes then and heard the sincerity behind his words. “Then I should relax and leave you to it.”

“Or you could go to the café with us. I promised Bobby a milk shake and a grilled cheese sandwich for lunch.”

She was a little too tempted by the invitation. “I should probably get Jackson home.”

Sam looked at the sleeping baby and smiled. “Is this your nephew?”

“The one and only Jackson McIlroy,” she confirmed. “His dad’s the doctor in town. With an adventurous kid in your life, you’ll want to get to know him.”

“Absolutely,” Sam said. “Now, about lunch. How about it? You can grumble that nothing I’m feeding Bobby is healthy.”

Carrie laughed and thought about what her grandmother had just advised, opening her heart to new experiences, even if she wasn’t quite ready for a new man.

“Well, when you put it that way, it should be fun,” she said. “Maybe I’ll even let you hold the baby, if he wakes up crying. That could be even more entertaining.”

“Hey, I’m barely holding my head above water as it is. One kid at a time, okay?”

“Okay,” she relented. “I’ll go save a table. It’s going to be hopping in there soon.”

Even as she walked away, she heard him trying to persuade Bobby to climb down. The boy promptly refused.

“Don’t make me come up there after you,” Sam warned.

As much as she wanted to turn around and watch the test of wills play out, she kept going to Sally’s. Lunch promised to be one of those interesting adventures that had been in short supply recently.

5

“Twice in one day?” Sally commented when Carrie walked into the café. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“I’m meeting a friend. At least I am if he can get his nephew to leave the playground.”

“Ah, you must be talking about Sam,” Sally said, proving how efficient the Chesapeake Shores grapevine could be. “I heard about what happened, that out of the blue, he’s got his nephew to raise.” She shook her head. “Poor little thing. He must be feeling so lost without his mom and dad. And Sam must be feeling completely out of his depth. Your uncle Kevin would know what that was like.”

Carrie immediately sat up a little straighter. “Why didn’t I think of that? Uncle Kevin suddenly found himself a single dad when Georgia was killed. The whole family pitched in with Davey until Kevin got his feet back under him. I should arrange for Sam to meet him.”

Sally gave her a long look. “How did this become your problem?”

“I told you. Sam’s a friend.”

“I thought he was new to town.”

“Okay, we just met, but he obviously needs help. Kevin can give him some encouragement, tell him he won’t feel as if he’s floundering for long,” Carrie said, warming to the idea. “Look at Kevin’s life now. He’s married to Shanna. They have Davey, and an adopted son, Henry, and two kids of their own.”

“You planning to step in and be this man’s Shanna?” Sally asked, a spark of devilment in her eyes.

Carrie’s jaw dropped at the question. “No, of course not. I’m just being neighborly.”

Sally looked doubtful. “Keep telling yourself that. You want your usual to drink—an iced tea?”

Carrie shook her head, determined not to be so predictable. Maybe it was silly, but she viewed it as a first step toward getting more spontaneity back into her life just as Grandma Megan had advised. She’d been right. Playing it safe wasn’t Carrie’s way.

“I think I’ll go crazy and have another cup of coffee,” she announced with a greater sense of triumph than the decision deserved.

Sally nodded and went to greet a group of tourists who’d just taken over two tables in the middle of the room, using half the chairs for all their packages. Clearly their visit had been good for the Chesapeake Shores economy.

Just then Sam came in the door, a firm hand on his nephew’s shoulder. The boy wore a mutinous expression as Sam guided him to the booth where Carrie was waiting.

“Carrie, this is Bobby. Bobby, Carrie is the nice lady who helped me decide on that delicious Irish stew we had for dinner last night.”

Ignoring both her and his uncle, Bobby crawled across the seat and settled in a corner of the booth, arms folded across his chest, his gaze downcast.

“Sorry,” Sam mouthed.

Carrie debated her strategy, then opted to be direct, acting as if Bobby weren’t so determined to punish Sam and pretend she didn’t exist.

“I saw you climb that jungle gym on the playground just now,” she said, her tone cheerful.

Bobby gave her a surprised look, but remained stubbornly silent.

Carrie was undaunted. “You were really high. You must be very brave. How old are you?”

She saw Sam start to answer for him, and shook her head. He sat back and waited.

“I think I was about your age when my twin sister and I climbed up on the railing on the porch at my grandfather’s house and tried to walk it like a tightrope,” she continued as if he’d responded. “It was pretty scary, but fun, too. At least till our mom caught us.”

Bobby finally met her gaze, a faint interest sparking in his eyes. “Was it very high?”

“Not as high as the jungle gym, but pretty high.”

“I like to climb stuff,” he said. “And I never get scared.”

“That’s great, but it’s important to understand that some things have risks. You don’t want to do anything that might be dangerous. A broken arm or leg wouldn’t be much fun.”

Bobby shrugged. “My friend Pete had a cast on his arm. He said it itched. And there were lots of things he couldn’t do for a long time.”

“Something to remember,” Carrie suggested. “I heard you might want a grilled cheese sandwich for lunch. That’s my favorite, too. Sally’s are the best.”

Curiosity finally overcame his bad mood. “Is that the lady who owns this place?”

Carrie nodded. “And here’s another tip. If you’re nice to her, she sometimes has cookies still warm from the oven for her best-behaved customers.”

Bobby’s eyes widened. “Chocolate chip, like we had last night?”

“Even better,” Carrie said, praying Nell would forgive her if she ever heard about that traitorous claim.

“I think you’ve said the magic words,” Sam said. “Bobby and I are both suckers for warm chocolate-chip cookies.”

“I can eat lots and lots of them,” Bobby agreed.

“But only after lunch,” Sam reminded him just as Sally arrived to take their orders for two grilled cheese sandwiches, a burger for Sam and an order of fries for the table.

Clearly more at ease now, Bobby glanced across the table and studied Jackson in his carrier. “Is that your baby?”

“No, Jackson is my nephew. He stays with me sometimes.”

“Like I’m staying with Sam?”

“Not exactly,” Carrie said. “He goes home to his dad at night. His dad’s a doctor here in town and his mom is in school in Baltimore.”

Bobby looked puzzled. “If she’s a mom, isn’t she too old for school?”

Carrie smiled. “This is a special school for people learning to be doctors.”

“Is she gonna give shots?”

“I imagine so.”

He gave an exaggerated shudder. “I don’t like shots.”

“Most people don’t,” Carrie agreed. “But I happen to know that Jackson’s dad gives shots that you barely even notice.”

“Did he give one to you?”

“More than one. I was going on a trip and needed several before I went.”

Bobby shook his head. “I’d have stayed home.”

“And missed out on a big adventure?” Carrie said. “I thought it was worth it.”

“Where did you go?” Sam asked.

“Africa. My grandfather has taken on the task of designing and building medical facilities for several small villages, something that’s increasingly critical with all of the outbreaks of Ebola that have been occurring in that part of the world. I went with him and my grandmother to talk to the people and see what they needed. While he did his thing, we worked with the women in the villages to help with their English and teach them some preventative care for their babies.”

“That’s impressive. Are you involved in his work on a regular basis?”

“Not really. Helping in underserved villages is my sister’s passion. It’s the reason she’s studying to be a doctor. And the trip was my grandfather’s way of trying to motivate me to get on with my life.”

“What do you do now, aside from taking care of your nephew?” Sam asked.

“Not much,” she said candidly. “And that’s the problem.” Relief washed over her when she saw Sally coming with their food. “Here’s our lunch.”

She stole a French fry from the plate the minute it was on the table, avoiding Sam’s curious gaze. She glanced his way again and realized she’d been wrong. It wasn’t curiosity on his face. His expression had actually shut down as if he disapproved of her glib response.

Okay, maybe her life was a bit of a disorganized, unplanned mess at the moment, but who was he to judge? As she focused her attention on her meal, it dawned on her how annoying snap judgments could be. Perhaps that was exactly how Sam had felt earlier today and last night, when she’d been judging him.

Maybe she’d been a little premature in telling Sally they were friends. They were, at best, distrustful acquaintances. With surprising regret, she realized she didn’t see that changing anytime soon.

* * *

Except for Carrie’s ability to coax Bobby out of his stony silence, lunch had pretty much been a disaster, Sam decided as he headed back to the inn with his chattering nephew at his side. He couldn’t exactly ponder what had gone wrong, though, with Bobby asking a million and one questions about the town, the bay and every bird they saw. Sam’s answers were in short supply. Who knew a six-year-old could be so bright and inquisitive?

“Why don’t we look for some books about all that the next time we’re in town?” he suggested at last.

“We could go back now,” Bobby said, gazing up at him hopefully. “I saw a bookstore right next to where we ate.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to take a nap?”

“I don’t take naps,” Bobby scoffed. “I’m too big.”

Sam sighed. “Okay, then. Let’s go back.”

This was Sam’s first visit to the bookstore. He was surprised by how extensive the selection appeared to be. It even had a cozy little coffee area.

Bobby immediately gravitated toward the children’s section, where books had been left scattered around and child-size furniture invited kids to sit and look at the books or play with the book-themed toys. Clearly the owner understood a lot about children. It was an atmosphere that invited curiosity and exploration, rather than one that said Hands Off!

A woman emerged from the back and beamed, first at Bobby, then at him. “Hi, I’m Shanna O’Brien,” she said, holding out her hand to Sam. “And you’re the new web designer working with Mack.”

Sam blinked, astounded not only by her perceptiveness, but by her last name. “Excuse me for letting my jaw drop,” he said. “But I’m beginning to think O’Briens are everywhere,”

She laughed. “Pretty much, and with all the babies in the next generation, I don’t see that changing.”

“How did you know who I am?”

“I ran over to Sally’s a half hour ago to pick up a sandwich. I spotted you with Carrie and this little guy. It didn’t take long to put two and two together. We have very good math skills in this town, at least when it comes to that sort of thing.”

“I’d better remember that,” he said, not sure how he felt about so many people, no matter how well-intentioned, knowing his business.

Shanna had gone to kneel down next to Bobby. “So, what kind of books do you like?”

“All kinds,” Bobby said. “My mom read to me every night before bed.” He glanced up at Sam, his expression sad. “Will you do that? I packed some of my favorites, but I like new stories, too.”

“Absolutely,” Sam said readily, grateful to get a handle on something he was capable of doing to make Bobby’s transition to this new life a tiny bit easier. “You pick out whatever books you want and we’ll read them together.”

Looking relieved, Bobby turned back to Shanna. “Do you have books about the bay and the birds around here?”

“I sure do,” she said, pulling several off a shelf. “There are a lot more, but they’re for grown-ups. If you want to know more when you’ve been through these, come back and we’ll see if one of those appeals to you.” She glanced at Sam. “I’m a big believer in encouraging children to read about whatever interests them, even if the books were meant for adults. They might stumble over some of the words, but it keeps them interested.”

Bobby was already engrossed in a picture book about local shore birds, so she turned her attention back to Sam. “I’m trying to convince Thomas O’Brien to start a summer class for the younger kids in town. He already has an active group at the high school, but in my opinion children are never too young to develop a passion for the world right around them. Thomas runs the foundation to preserve the bay, and I’ve told him the best way to assure that the bay goes on being protected is to spark interest at an early age. Do you think Bobby would like to join?”