‘‘You are doing what’s best for him. Every time I see him he looks lighter. There was such a heaviness over him when he first came here. Professor Quinn was working his way through that, but he had such troubles of his own. You know how troubled he was, Ethan.’’

‘‘Yeah.’’ And the guilt weighed like a stone, dead center in his heart. ‘‘I know.’’

‘‘Now I have made you sad.’’ She shifted toward him so that their knees bumped. ‘‘Whatever troubled him, it was never you. You were one strong, steady light in his life. Anyone could see that.’’

‘‘If I’d asked more questions . . .’’ he began.

‘‘It’s not your way,’’ she said again and, forgetting her hand was sticky, touched it to his cheek. ‘‘You knew he would talk to you when he was ready, when he could.’’

‘‘Then it was too late.’’

‘‘No, it never is.’’ Her fingers skimmed lightly over his cheek. ‘‘There’s always a chance. I don’t think I could get from one day to the next if I didn’t believe there’s always a chance. Don’t worry,’’ she said softly.

He felt something move inside him as he reached up to cover her hand with his. Something shifting and opening. Then Aubrey let out a wild squeal of joy.

‘‘Grandpa!’’

Grace’s hand jerked, then dropped like a stone. All the warmth that had flowed out of her chilled. Her shoulders went straight and stiff as she turned forward again and watched her father walk toward them.

‘‘There’s my dollbaby. Come see Grandpa.’’

Grace let her daughter go, watched her race and be caught. Her father didn’t wince or shy away from the sticky hands or smeared lips. He laughed and hugged and smacked his lips when kissed lavishly.

‘‘Mmm, strawberry. Gimme more.’’ He made munching noises on Aubrey’s neck until she screamed with delight. Then he hitched her easily on his hip and crossed the slight distance to his daughter. And no longer smiled. ‘‘Grace, Ethan. Taking a Sunday stroll?’’

Grace’s throat was dry, and her eyes burned. ‘‘Ethan offered to buy us some ice cream.’’

‘‘Well, that’s nice.’’

‘‘You’re wearing some of it now,’’ Ethan commented, hoping to ease some of the rippling tension that moved in the air.

Pete glanced down to his shirt, where Aubrey had transferred some of her favored strawberries. ‘‘Clothes wash. Don’t often see you around the waterfront on a Sunday, Ethan, since you started building that boat.’’

‘‘Taking an hour before I get started on it today. Hull’s finished, deck’s nearly.’’

‘‘Good, that’s good.’’ He nodded, meaning it, then shifted his gaze to Grace. ‘‘Your mother’s in the diner. She’ll want to see her granddaughter.’’

‘‘All right. I—’’