“Am I’m supposed to feel sorry for you? Get off my ship.” Liam grabbed Mick’s satchel and threw it onto the pier below, where it landed with a splat, scattering Mick’s paltry belongings over the planking. He reached for Ruby’s sack next, but she clutched it to her chest and started heading toward the gangway.

Mick reluctantly followed, spewing obscenities that echoed across the harbor. Gwen recoiled at the vile tone, but it was a terrible peek into the crude world her brother came from. Liam’s knuckles were white as he clutched the railing, but his face was emotionless as he watched Mick and Ruby walk out of his life.

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

Liam took a while to respond as he stared into the darkened marina. “Yeah, it hurts. It shouldn’t, but it does.”

She understood. The crime Mick perpetrated against her entire family was going to be hard to forgive, but it would be hardest for Liam. He was probably right in making a clean break with the Malones. Like her, Liam was going to have to cut ties with the past before stepping into a new future.

41

Patrick spent the two weeks after the steel merger dealing with a flurry of cases from his regular clients. He fended off evictions, helped a man charged with illegal dumping, and defended a woman arrested for jaywalking while drunk. He visited men in jail to arrange for bail and filed lawsuits against insurance companies who refused to pay on their claims. None of it was glamorous or involved massive corporate mergers, but these cases meant the world to the people he served, and he burned the midnight oil chipping away at the backlog of paperwork.

His mother had returned to her job at the bakery. It was as if she’d never been sick. She still made him dinner each evening, pestered him to get married, and played pinochle with Mrs. O’Shea on the weekends.

One evening she brought home a special cake. The vanilla layer cake featured the shield and motto of Blackstone College.

“I’d like to thank Mrs. Kellerman,” Birdie said. “We can’t afford to pay her for the serum, but I want her to know I’m grateful, and a cake is the only thing I can offer.”

“It’s a nice gesture,” Patrick said, but guilt gnawed at him. A cake seemed embarrassingly paltry compared to what Gwen had done for them. He could never repay her for the serum, and then he’d made things worse by leading her to believe they might have a future together. They both got carried away building castles in the air, and it was his fault for letting it go too far.

“You’ll take it over to her, then?” Birdie didn’t look at him as she diced carrots for a stew.

He scrambled for an excuse. “Don’t you think it would look better coming from you?”