Chapter 6

      For the better part of a week following their last confrontation, Kiera managed to steer clear of Bryan. Obviously she had to speak to him when placing orders or relaying special requests from their customers, but there was a deliberate civility between them these days. She should have been grateful, but it was starting to get on her nerves almost as badly as their previous exchanges of quick-tempered words. She knew exactly how to deal with a mercurial temper. Stiff politeness was something else entirely.

      “You and Bryan seem to have made peace,” Moira said one evening as the crowd was thinning. “I’m not hearing the tart comments and testy tones this week. How did that come about?”

      Kiera shrugged. “We’re both trying a bit harder, I suppose. Luke has repeatedly told me he wants peace and harmony among the staff. I’m trying to do my part to achieve that. Bryan must be as well, though it doesn’t seem to suit him. He cuts himself off midsentence, when we both know perfectly well he wants to lash out and put me in my place.”

      Moira regarded her curiously. “You don’t sound pleased about him making the effort.”

      Kiera hesitated then admitted, “It doesn’t seem quite natural, if you know what I mean. Has Luke gone a step beyond and ordered him to be on his best behavior around me just because I’m your mother?”

      “I seriously doubt it,” Moira said. “Has he given you instructions to go easy on Bryan?”

      “He’s stressed again and again that Bryan’s invaluable as his chef and that we need to find a way to get along. I’ve taken that to heart, but I thought Bryan was too stubborn to listen.”

      Moira smiled. “Well, however it came about, you’re doing as Luke wanted.”

      “Not really. What we’re doing is being exceedingly polite whenever we can’t possibly avoid each other. That’s not the same as real teamwork.”

      Her daughter carefully banked a smile. “And that’s now driving you crazy? Do you have any idea why?”

      “I told you before. It’s not natural.”

      “And the bickering felt right?”

      “Well, of course not,” Kiera said impatiently, knowing that she was making little sense. “Who wants to argue with someone day and night over the slightest thing?”

      Moira laughed. “Do you know what my brothers told me about the early days when Dad was still around?”

      Kiera stared at her, startled by the change of topic, especially the shift to Sean Malone. Moira knew perfectly well that she didn’t like talking about the past in general or Sean in particular. “The three of you talked about that?”

      “Of course we did. I was curious about the man I never got to meet. You never wanted to answer my questions. It always made you either sad or angry, so I stopped asking you and coaxed things out of the two of them. Not that they could be credited with much insight, but their memories were clear enough.”

      Kiera should have realized that her daughter would naturally be curious about the father who’d abandoned her. And, given Moira’s stubborn streak, Kiera also should have known her daughter wouldn’t have given up without answers from someone. Just because she’d stopped asking Kiera, Kiera shouldn’t have assumed she’d stopped asking at all.

      “And what did your brothers tell you?” Kiera inquired. “Not that they could be trusted. They were practically babies themselves.”

      “They were old enough to remember that before the drinking got so bad, the two of you would argue night and day. Bickering is what they called it.”

      “And they recalled that as being a happy time?” Kiera asked incredulously.

      “They said it was always with an undertone of affection and that you always kissed and made up.”

      Kiera sighed. That much was true. There had been so much heat between them that any conversation could turn from peaceful to all-out warfare in a heartbeat, then end with another sort of passion entirely. She hadn’t known her sons were so aware of the pattern. She’d assumed they were far too young to have any real awareness of the stormy dynamics between their parents.

      “Did you?” Moira prodded. “Always kiss and make up?”

      Unable to speak past the lump in her throat, Kiera nodded. “Until we didn’t.”

      “They noted the change,” Moira said, surprising Kiera again. “They said it was as if you both simply stopped caring about making things right and the arguing was all that mattered.”

      That summed it up nicely, Kiera thought, but concluded they’d delved into the past quite enough for one sitting. And she wasn’t sure she liked where her daughter was heading with this.

      “Are you drawing some sort of comparison between those days and what goes on between me and Bryan? If so, you couldn’t be more wrong.” She hoped her firm words would put an end to that, though she was forced to admit she’d wondered about it herself lately. While she hadn’t reached any conclusions, she had lectured herself with reminders that it was not a pattern to be embraced yet again.

      “I’ve seen the passion in your exchanges with Bryan,” Moira insisted.

      “It’s not of a personal nature. It’s because I care about doing my job, about doing the best I can for Luke and the pub,” Kiera countered, satisfied with the spin.

      “That’s some of it, I’m sure, but I think it runs deeper. I think there’s chemistry at work. I’ll admit I didn’t like it at first. I said as much to Luke. I thought it was disrespectful to Peter, but I’m forced to admit that it’s made you come alive. There’s been a spark in your eyes and color in your cheeks.” She regarded Kiera intently. “That’s really all I want for you. I want you to go on living.”

      “And you think battling wits with Bryan Laramie over his Irish stew or his fish and chips holds the key to that?”

      “Maybe.