it a criteria for living here?” he asked, mostly in jest. “Do they give a test at the Realtor’s office?”
“Not really,” she said, apparently taking him seriously. “It’s just a local legend, so people tend to know it. As I understand it, the land originally belonged to an O’Brien who came here straight from Ireland. His family farmed it for years. A couple of decades ago, three of his descendants—Mick, Jeff and Thomas O’Brien—built Chesapeake Shores from scratch on that land.”
She paused for breath, then added, “Mick’s the famous architect who designed the town. He might not be an elected official, but his word still carries a lot of weight around here. Jeff manages properties and sells real estate.” Eyes twinkling, she gave Aidan a pointed look. “So it wouldn’t really surprise me if he does spread the story himself, though I imagine he’d consider testing potential residents to be ill-mannered.”
Aidan chuckled. “Touché.”
“There’s another brother, too. Thomas is a well-respected environmentalist who runs a foundation that fights to protect the bay.”
Aidan’s brain seemed to shut down at the casual mention of Thomas O’Brien. Maybe coming to Chesapeake Shores had been a huge mistake, after all, if just hearing that name made him flinch. He’d gotten a tip about the coaching job and been drawn here as if fate were stepping in, but now all he felt was the familiar bitterness and anger crawling up the back of his throat. That it might be unwarranted was a concept he struggled with from time to time.
He suddenly realized that Liz was studying him with a worried expression.
“Are you okay? Did I say something that upset you?”
“No, not a thing, I’m fine,” Aidan assured her. “Thanks for the background information.” He deliberately took a quick glance at his watch, then added, “I need to get going.”
He turned and quickly walked off in the direction of his car.
“Aidan!” Liz’s concerned voice carried on the breeze. “The school office is the other way.”
He gave her a wave of acknowledgment and kept right on going, thankful there was no set time for his interview. He’d intentionally scheduled it that way, promising to call once he arrived in town and got settled into the room the school had reserved for him at The Inn at Eagle Point. Maybe after a shower and some food and a little more time to think about what he was doing, he’d be ready to make that call. Or maybe not.
It was a big decision, deciding whether to stay and take a risk, or go. If his friends could see him now, they’d be stunned by his indecisiveness.
On the field, he’d been a quick-thinking quarterback, reading a defense and making split-second adjustments that determined whether a play succeeded or failed. He hadn’t struggled for even a minute with his decision to retire when he’d realized that an injury had slowed him down, ruining his effectiveness on the field. He’d always wanted to coach at the high school level. He’d gotten his teaching credentials in college in anticipation that this day would eventually come. At the end of his season last November following a second knee injury that had taken him out for the year, he’d made the call. Sure, it had come a lot sooner than he’d anticipated, but fate was funny that way. He wouldn’t be one of those players who hung on past his expiration date.
But this decision? This was different. This was a twenty-eight-year-old man trying to decide not only whether a job and town might be a good fit but if the time was right to meet his biological father—Thomas O’Brien—for the very first time.
* * *
Liz held a cup of coffee in her hands to warm them as she sat in a booth at Sally’s with Bree O’Brien Collins, who owned Flowers on Main, the store next door to hers. Bree was also a playwright who ran a local theater, but she still loved spending the occasional day making flower arrangements, especially for special occasions. Today she’d been so busy with the decorations for a baby shower that they’d postponed their morning coffee break until afternoon when Liz’s high school helper could cover for her.
“I’m telling you, it was very strange,” she told Bree. “We were just talking. I should say I was chattering away, filling him in on this and that.” She regarded Bree with a rueful expression. “I really do have to stop doing that, going on and on, I mean.”
Bree’s grin suggested she was doing it again.
“Okay. Sorry. I’ll get to the point. I promise. I’d tried to convince him to take Archie, but he wasn’t interested. Then I admitted that I’d guessed who he was. We talked about the job for a couple of minutes, or maybe I did all the talking. Anyway, he took off, and not toward the school, as if he’d realized he was late for a meeting or something. He headed in the opposite direction.”
“Well, that is weird,” Bree said. “Maybe he doesn’t like dogs. Archie is a sweetheart, but not everybody notices that when he’s trying to herd them.”
Liz chuckled. “Yes, I’m familiar with the reaction. The poor thing can’t help himself, though. But the Archie issue was resolved. Aidan wasn’t interested, and that was that for me. Pets belong with people who’ll love and appreciate them. Actually I was filling him in on local history, how O’Briens built the town, when he got this kind of glazed look on his face, then took off.”
“So you think his reaction had something to do with the O’Briens?” Bree asked, frowning.
“It felt that way, but how could that be it? Everybody loves your family.”
Bree made a face. “That’s a slight exaggeration. Dad’s made his share of enemies over the years. Heck, for a long time, he didn’t even get along all that well with his own brothers. He, Jeff and Thomas clashed over every detail when they were building the town. It’s only recently, thanks to my grandmother’s determination, that peace and family harmony have been mostly restored. If you force people to sit around the same table on Sunday long enough, sooner or later they have to start talking civilly. I doubt Nell envisioned just how long that process would take, though.”
Liz nodded distractedly. She was still perplexed by Aidan’s behavior. “Then I must have misread his reaction,” she said eventually. “I guess we’ll see when word spreads about whether he’s taken the job at the high school.”
“Well, whatever Aidan feels about the O’Briens, it’s one-sided,” Bree said. “Dad is determined to get him hired as the coach. He practically handpicked him from the list of candidates, so there’s no bad blood there, at least on his side. And you know Mick O’Brien. When he wants something, he usually gets it.”
Bree sat back and studied Liz with a speculative expression. “So, what was he like? Aidan, I mean.”
Liz blushed under the friendly scrutiny. “I suppose he was good-looking in that well-built, jock way.” She wished she hadn’t noticed just how toned and fit he seemed to be, or the way his eyes had sparked with wit, or the dimple that occasionally appeared in his cheek when he was teasing her.
“In other words, you wouldn’t kick him out of bed,” Bree concluded.
Liz frowned at the lighthearted remark. “I wouldn’t let him in my bed,” she corrected, though she hoped he wouldn’t make a liar of her. She had a feeling he could. To bolster her resolve she reminded both of them, “It’s way too soon for me to be even thinking like that.”
Truthfully, she hoped she never thought that way ever again. Her past had left her beyond skittish when it came to relationships. She was fiercely independent these days and determined to stay that way. Once burned—especially as badly as she had been—twice shy.
Bree’s expression immediately sobered. “Liz, sweetie, it’s been a year since the accident. I know you loved your husband. I also know you moved here to get away from the memories and to start over. It’s time to do that. Meeting someone new is part of the process. You don’t have to feel guilty if you find Aidan Mitchell attractive.”
“It’s