Read Online The Summer Garden by Sherryl Woods - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sherryl Woods
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you can understand that and give him the room to mature and grow, I think he’ll do the same for you. You’ll build your future together, one with room for both your gifts.”
Moira looked around the pub at the photos on the walls, noted the way people were admiring them and felt a warm glow of satisfaction, but something else as well. This faint possibility of a career—this hope she was feeling—it was here, in Dublin, while Luke was across the ocean.
As if he’d read her mind, her grandfather smiled at her. “There are people to photograph in America, too,” he said quietly. “If this is what you were meant to do and Luke is the man you’re meant to be with, you’ll find a way. Believe in that.”
Moira nodded, wanted to believe, but over the years there’d been very little reason to have faith in herself. Suddenly the trip that she’d agreed to with one goal was about so much more.
Luke was standing amid wood shavings, drawing in the scent of paint and wondering if he’d been out of his mind to think he could create an Irish pub in barely more than a month. He’d trusted it to his brother and his uncle, but right at the moment all he could detect was chaos. Only the handsome sign that was meant to go above the door out front— O’Brien’s written in the almost traditional raised gold letters against a dark green background—was ready.
The massive bar, the one he’d salvaged from a town in the countryside miles from Dublin, would be delivered tomorrow, assuming he dared to put it into place in this construction zone. It might be better off being left in the alley behind the building. Matthew was still grumbling about the tight fit it was going to be. There’d be barely inches to spare once it was in place across the back of the room. If Luke gained even a few ounces, he’d be squeezing past to make his way to the office in back. Thank goodness the doorway to the kitchen was off to the side. Otherwise, a waiter with a tray would be tempting fate each time he came and went.
For the past three weeks, he’d been in here every minute, working alongside his uncle’s crew, testing the limits of his own skills with a hammer and paintbrush. Even his father had pitched in once or twice, though that help usually came with another well-meant cautionary lecture Luke didn’t especially want to hear.
He was on the phone in the tiny space he’d set aside for an office when he looked up and saw Kristen making her way through the bar. In her spike heels, designer suit and flashing gold-and-diamond jewelry, she looked as out of place in here as he felt at those fancy Baltimore parties she’d dragged him to from time to time.
“You shouldn’t be wandering around in here without a hard hat,” he told her, not entirely glad to see her. She’d made her opinion of “this little project of yours” well-known. She hadn’t been delighted about it. She thought running a bar was beneath him. It was one of the few heated arguments they’d ever had. Usually they discussed nothing else worth fighting about. In Luke’s opinion, the handwriting was on the wall about their future…or lack thereof. Hadn’t he made that clear the last time they’d spoken?
“Since you’re spending all your time here these days, I thought you could show me around,” she said, then took in the room, her expression dubious. “There’s not much to see, is there?”
“It’s coming along,” he said defensively. “I can show you the plans if you’d like to take a look.”
“I’d rather you take me to Brady’s for dinner,” she said.
He shook his head before the words were out of her mouth. “I can’t. Sorry. I have to go to Gram’s tonight. Dillon’s arriving from Ireland, and she expects the family to drop by.”
Kristen looked skeptical. “Will all of you even fit in that little cottage of hers?”
“We’ll fit well enough,” Luke told her.
She watched him intently, obviously waiting for an invitation he had
Moira looked around the pub at the photos on the walls, noted the way people were admiring them and felt a warm glow of satisfaction, but something else as well. This faint possibility of a career—this hope she was feeling—it was here, in Dublin, while Luke was across the ocean.
As if he’d read her mind, her grandfather smiled at her. “There are people to photograph in America, too,” he said quietly. “If this is what you were meant to do and Luke is the man you’re meant to be with, you’ll find a way. Believe in that.”
Moira nodded, wanted to believe, but over the years there’d been very little reason to have faith in herself. Suddenly the trip that she’d agreed to with one goal was about so much more.
Luke was standing amid wood shavings, drawing in the scent of paint and wondering if he’d been out of his mind to think he could create an Irish pub in barely more than a month. He’d trusted it to his brother and his uncle, but right at the moment all he could detect was chaos. Only the handsome sign that was meant to go above the door out front— O’Brien’s written in the almost traditional raised gold letters against a dark green background—was ready.
The massive bar, the one he’d salvaged from a town in the countryside miles from Dublin, would be delivered tomorrow, assuming he dared to put it into place in this construction zone. It might be better off being left in the alley behind the building. Matthew was still grumbling about the tight fit it was going to be. There’d be barely inches to spare once it was in place across the back of the room. If Luke gained even a few ounces, he’d be squeezing past to make his way to the office in back. Thank goodness the doorway to the kitchen was off to the side. Otherwise, a waiter with a tray would be tempting fate each time he came and went.
For the past three weeks, he’d been in here every minute, working alongside his uncle’s crew, testing the limits of his own skills with a hammer and paintbrush. Even his father had pitched in once or twice, though that help usually came with another well-meant cautionary lecture Luke didn’t especially want to hear.
He was on the phone in the tiny space he’d set aside for an office when he looked up and saw Kristen making her way through the bar. In her spike heels, designer suit and flashing gold-and-diamond jewelry, she looked as out of place in here as he felt at those fancy Baltimore parties she’d dragged him to from time to time.
“You shouldn’t be wandering around in here without a hard hat,” he told her, not entirely glad to see her. She’d made her opinion of “this little project of yours” well-known. She hadn’t been delighted about it. She thought running a bar was beneath him. It was one of the few heated arguments they’d ever had. Usually they discussed nothing else worth fighting about. In Luke’s opinion, the handwriting was on the wall about their future…or lack thereof. Hadn’t he made that clear the last time they’d spoken?
“Since you’re spending all your time here these days, I thought you could show me around,” she said, then took in the room, her expression dubious. “There’s not much to see, is there?”
“It’s coming along,” he said defensively. “I can show you the plans if you’d like to take a look.”
“I’d rather you take me to Brady’s for dinner,” she said.
He shook his head before the words were out of her mouth. “I can’t. Sorry. I have to go to Gram’s tonight. Dillon’s arriving from Ireland, and she expects the family to drop by.”
Kristen looked skeptical. “Will all of you even fit in that little cottage of hers?”
“We’ll fit well enough,” Luke told her.
She watched him intently, obviously waiting for an invitation he had
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