The mystery of why we never socialized at The Alnster Inn was finally solved my first Friday night when Mr. Thompson cracked a joke about Milly leaving Dexter for someone called West Elliot. To me it was an offhand comment based on the fact that Milly was rushed off her feet behind the bar at weekend nights, with waitstaff jumping on to help her out because Dexter insisted they needn’t hire another bartender. Milly had joked, “It’s because he wants the cash for his precious produce, never mind his precious wife.”

However, after Mr. Thompson’s (or Old Man Thompson as Roane called him) crack about some guy called West Elliot, Milly shot him a frosty look and tension descended over the occupants of the pub.

Waiting until we were alone at our table by the fire, I asked Roane about it. It turned out West Elliot owned The Alnster Inn and, like Milly, had inherited it from his parents. Back when they were teenagers, Milly and West were in love, but while West stayed in Alnster to run the family business, Milly took off for Newcastle to attend university. It was there she met Dexter.

“You’ve met Milly.” Roane leaned in to whisper in my ear, goose bumps shivering down my neck at the ghost of his words on my skin. “She’s a good woman. She never meant for anyone to get hurt, but when you know, you know, and Dex was it for her.”

I winced. “It’s a shitty situation.”

Roane nodded. “And West has never made it easy. Even though he married a girl from Alnwick and they had kids together who are now grown, he’s never let it go. His love for Milly turned into bitterness, even though he knows things haven’t been easy for her.”

I frowned. “In what way?”

“Well, you know they have a daughter, Viola?”

I nodded. Milly had proudly shown me photos of Viola, a beautiful young woman currently finishing her sophomore year at Newcastle University. She was excited because Viola would be home soon for the summer.

“They tried many times before they had Vi.” Roane’s dark eyes filled with sympathy. “After a number of miscarriages, Milly couldn’t take it anymore. They stopped trying.”

My heart ached for her, for them both. “Poor Milly. Poor Dexter.”

“Aye.” Roane sighed, his gaze darting to The Anchor’s owner. “But once they stopped trying, it miraculously happened. Viola was born.”

I was glad it had worked out for them. From what I’d witnessed, Milly and Dexter were an example of a marriage to aspire to. Married thirty years and, yes, they still loved each other, but more impressively they still liked each other. After a moment’s contemplation, I whispered, “I do feel kind of bad for West. He must have loved Milly a lot.”