‘‘Okay, okay, don’t get bitchy.’’ He smiled widely and pulled out a money clip thick with bills. He always salted it with a couple of twenties on the outside, then filled it with singles. ‘‘You figure what I owe, then we’ll . . . negotiate your tip.’’

Sometimes, Grace decided, it was best to keep your mouth firmly shut. What wanted to come out was vicious enough to get her fired. So she walked away and took her empties to the bar.

‘‘He giving you trouble, Grace?’’

She smiled weakly at Steve. It was just the two of them working now. The other waitress had clocked out at midnight, claiming a migraine. Since she’d been pale as a ghost, Grace had shooed her out and agreed to cover.

‘‘He’s just another of those gifts to womankind. Nothing to worry about.’’

‘‘If he’s not gone by closing, I’ll wait until you’re locked in your car and headed home.’’

She made a noncommittal humming noise. She hadn’t mentioned her lack of transportation because she knew Steve would insist on driving her home. He lived twenty minutes away, in the opposite direction. And had a pregnant wife waiting for him.

She cashed out tables, cleared them, and noted with relief that her problem customer finally rose to leave. He paid his $18.83 bar bill with cash, leaving $20 on the table. Though he’d managed to monopolize most of her time and attention for the past three hours, Grace was too tired to be annoyed at the pitiful tip.

It didn’t take long for the pub to empty. The crowd had been mostly college students, out for a couple of beers and conversation on a weekday night. By her calculations they’d turned about ten tables no more than twice since her shift had started at seven. Her tips for the evening weren’t going to make much of a dent in the new car she would have to buy.

It was so quiet, they both jumped like rabbits when the phone rang. Even while Grace laughed at their reaction, the blood drained out of Steve’s face. ‘‘Mollie,’’ was all he said as he leaped on the phone. He answered it with a stuttering, ‘‘Is it time?’’

Grace stepped forward, wondering if she was strong enough to catch him if he keeled over. When he began nodding rapidly, she felt her smile spread wide.

‘‘Okay. You—you call the doctor, right? Everything’s ready to go. How far apart . . . Oh, God, oh, God, I’m on my way. Don’t move. Don’t do anything. Don’t worry.’’

He dropped the phone off the hook, then froze. ‘‘She’s—Mollie—my wife—’’