Lilac Lane (Chesapeake Shores #14)(92)

Bree turned and studied her. “Panicked?”

Kiera nodded. “Ridiculous, isn’t it?”

“You should see me on opening night when my play’s being performed before a live audience,” Bree said. “No matter how it’s gone in rehearsal, no matter how confident I am that the laughs will fall in all the right places, I pace around backstage trying very hard not to run to the restroom and throw up. I’m told nerves are part of the process.”

Kiera found Bree’s words to be soothing, but it was the glass of wine she placed in Kiera’s hand that had the real calming effect.

“Remember, you’re among friends and family tonight,” Bree said.

“Which means you’re all likely to be supportive,” Kiera said. “Telling me the stew is good when it’s awful won’t be doing me any kindness.”

Bree laughed. “O’Briens can be blunt when it’s called for. Not a one of us is known for censoring our words. We expect each other to be tough enough to handle the truth, even when it hurts.”

“And that’s exactly what I need,” Kiera told her. “The truth.”

As the women poured into the cottage’s close quarters, the cozy rooms filled with laughter. The wine calmed the last of Kiera’s jittery nerves, and she found herself able to enjoy the company. She checked her dining room table to be sure she’d put out enough bowls for the stew, enough spoons, most of them borrowed from the pub for the evening.

Satisfied, she went into the kitchen, put the stew into a couple of big tureens and carried those to the table, then added plates of warm bread and the Irish butter she’d discovered to her delight at the specialty market.

“I think we’re ready,” she announced. “I’d love to seat everyone around a big table, but we’ll have to eat wherever we can find a spot to sit.”

“It’s the company and food that matters, not the seating,” Nell soothed. “I’m taking mine outside, so I can enjoy the delightful breeze off the water.”

“I’ll join you, Gram,” Bree said, following her outside.

As Kiera nervously watched, she noticed that they all migrated outside, happy to be together, happy to have a beloved view of the bay.

“Mum, everyone’s having a wonderful time. You can relax now. Get your own bowl of stew and come join us,” Moira said.

“Yes,” Megan said. “It’s time for you to sit and bask in the rave reviews I’m already hearing, Kiera.”

“I’m not sure I can,” Kiera admitted. “Besides, I’ve eaten enough stew today while I was cooking it. I don’t think I could eat another bite.”

“Then just bring your wine,” Moira said, pushing her toward the door.

She hesitated in the doorway, but her daughter gave her another gentle shove.

Immediately Heather spotted her. “I want this recipe,” she called out to Kiera.

“So do I,” Nell said.

Kiera’s eyes widened at Nell’s comment. “You do?”

“Your father’s been telling me mine is missing something, and I’ve had no idea what it could be until I tasted yours. I can’t put my finger on it, but I’ll know when I see what spices you’ve used.”

“But Bryan’s using your recipe,” Kiera said.

Bree chuckled at her reaction. “Which means you’ve got a lock on winning this contest, Kiera! I’m sure of it.”

“And you’re not just saying that?” she asked worriedly. “You’re not just trying to settle my nerves so I show up for the contest?”

Bree’s expression sobered at once. “Remember what I told you earlier. We always tell the truth.”

“Always,” a few more echoed.

“Well, I can remember one time—” Shanna began, only to be shushed by the others.

“Not helping,” Bree told her firmly.

Shanna laughed. “I’m just saying we’re all capable of a little white lie from time to time.”

“But not tonight,” Bree countered emphatically.

“Not tonight,” Shanna agreed.

Kiera sat back at last, more relieved than she could ever recall being before. Win or lose, she was confident she wasn’t going to make a complete fool of herself in front of Bryan or this family.

After that the attention turned to the huge tray of red velvet cupcakes Jess had brought from the inn. It was the perfect way to cap off a night that had made Kiera feel as if she did, indeed, belong.

*

“Quite a crowd at your place last night,” Bryan noted when Kiera got into the car in the morning for the drive to the pub.

“Just a girls’ night,” she said, unwilling to tell him that it had been a dress rehearsal for her Irish stew, one that had gone surprisingly well. She was still a little stunned by just how well it had gone, in terms of the food and the camaraderie. “We had dinner and dessert.”

“And wine?” Bryan asked, sounding amused.

“We had a few glasses,” she admitted. “Why did you make such a point of that?”

“Because of the serenading that went on when I got home. Not a one of you can carry a tune, by the way.”

Kiera stared at him. “We sang?”

“Oh, yes.”