She drew a deep breath. “Nyck, I was wondering if we could— Goodness, is that your friend looking like Cary Grant?”

Kennet turned on his stool. O’Hara was surveying the room with a bottle in his hands. He looked combed and neat and yes, a bit like Cary Grant, minus the cleft chin, and the black eye adding an air of insouciant danger. Kennet waved him over with one hand, beckoned to his uncle with the other.

O’Hara’s bottle was Armagnac de Montal, a token of appreciation for Major.

“Well now, Boyd O’Hara,” Major said, examining the label. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“Oh, but I did, sir.”

“I see New York City gave you a souvenir.” Major tapped under his eye, indicating O’Hara’s impressive shiner. “Hope you got a swing in.”

“I held my own until the cops came.”

“Good boy. Sit down, let’s crack the seal and have a drink. Have you met our cousin yet? Astrid Virtanen.”

“Not in person, but I’ve heard much.”

Astrid raised eyebrows at Kennet as she shook hands. “Much?”

Kennet glared at O’Hara. “Don’t make me regret this invitation.”

“Too late.”

“Ignore him. We’re so glad you came,” Astrid said. She bade him to pull up a stool and they chatted easily. Soon O’Hara’s hands reached for a napkin and started folding too, as if perfectly used to pitching in with little tasks and chores around here.

Marta came in, with Xandro perched on her hip.

“Is this the new hotel manager?” O’Hara said, getting to his feet.

“I’m the old manager,” Marta said. “This is my trainee.”

“Come here, mitt lilla odjur,” Astrid said, reaching for the child. “This slobbering beast is mine.”

Marta and O’Hara shook hands. “Thank you so much for having me,” he said.

“We’re nothing but delighted,” she said. “Kennet wrote so much in his letters, I feel like I already know you.”

O’Hara glanced at Kennet. “Don’t make me regret accepting this invitation.”

“Too late.”

Xandro pushed the top of his head into Astrid’s neck, a wet fist in his mouth. He was cutting a tooth, and his cheeks flamed red beneath the gaze he leveled at O’Hara.

“He’s looking at you like you owe him money,” Kennet said.

O’Hara raised an eyebrow, then put out hands to Xandro. Astrid passed him over and O’Hara tucked the boy easily in his arm, giving him a few bounces. “Hey, kiddo. Aren’t you something?”

“Do you have children?” Marta asked, folding a napkin.

“No, ma’am. I’m not the marrying type.”

“Good. The world needs more honorary uncles. You’re hired.”

“What, is this a party?” Minor called from the door of the bar. “Am I not invited to anything anymore?”

“It’s not a party until you crash it,” Major said. “About time you showed up.”