Free A Chesapeake Shores Christmas by Sherryl Woods Page A

be baking mincemeat next, then apple—that is, if she didn’t let her temper get the better of her and walk out of the kitchen.
    “Is there a problem, Ma?”
    “You tell me,” she said, glancing up at him with a scowl. “Connor just called to wish me a happy Thanksgiving. He says he’s not coming home.” She regarded him accusingly. “I thought you were going to fix this, Mick. Even through all the years you and your brothers have been sparring, there hasn’t been a single holiday this family hasn’t been together. Now’s no time to change that.”
    Mick stilled, stricken by the reality that his argument with his son could well ruin the family holiday. He gave his mother a look filled with regret. “To be honest, I don’t know how,” he admitted.
    “Of course you do,” Nell said impatiently. “An apology would be a good start.”
    “I’m not the one—”
    His mother cut him off. “Do you want to be right or do you want your son here for Thanksgiving?” Mick winced.
    “Megan will blame herself for this unless you tell her otherwise,” Nell said. “Are you willing to let her shoulder the guilt when it should be you?”
    “Guilt about what?” Megan asked, walking into the kitchen just in time to overhear the end of the conversation.
    Mick exchanged a look with his mother, but could think of no way to sugarcoat the news. “Connor won’t be here tomorrow.”
    Predictably, Megan’s face fell. “I see.”
    She turned and left the room, but not before Mick saw the sheen of tears in her eyes.
    “See what I mean?” his mother said to him. “She’s blaming herself.”
    “I’ll go after her,” Mick said, resigning himself to making some uncomfortable explanations.
    “Let me,” Nell said, handing him the pot holders. “Take the other pie out of the oven.”
    Since he had no earthly idea what he could possibly say to put a smile back on Megan’s face, he let his mother go. But the minute he’d removed the pie from the oven and set it on the rack to cool, he grabbed his cell phone and called his son.
    Connor answered, his voice wary. “What do you want, Dad?”
    “I could lie and say I called to wish you a happy Thanksgiving, but we both know I’m not exactly pleased with you at the moment.”
    “That goes both ways,” Connor said.
    Mick tried to find the words to make amends without retracting his displeasure with Connor’s stance. “Look, I know I told you to stay away, but I said it in the heat of the moment.” He drew in a deep breath and forced himself to add, “Tomorrow’s a holiday. You should be here celebrating with the rest of us.”
    “No, Dad, you were right to tell me not to come home,” Connor said, surprising him. “I don’t think I could sit there with everyone tomorrow and pretend I’m happy that you and Mom are back together. It’s best that I stay away.”
    Mick had expected Connor to seize the opening, not throw it back in his face. Tamping down his frustration, he tried again. “Connor, I’m trying to say I’m sorry, that I made a mistake,” Mick said. “Just accept my apology and come home.”
    “Too late. I’ve made other plans,” Connor told him.
    “What plans?”
    “That doesn’t matter,” Connor said. “They don’t include a visit to Chesapeake Shores and a meal I wouldn’t be able to choke down.”
    Mick lost patience. “So instead you’ll stay away and spoil the day for all of us? I didn’t raise you to be that selfish, son.”
    “You didn’t raise me at all,” Connor retorted. “Gram did.”
    The barb was a direct hit, but Mick had an answer for it. “Well, we certainly know she didn’t raise you to behave like this.”
    “How is this any different from the way you treat Uncle Thomas and Uncle Jeff?”
    “Since both of your uncles and their families have always been welcomed here on holidays, no matter what my personal feelings, I’d say my actions speak for themselves.”
    “Well, I won’t be a hypocrite.”
    “Boy, you