‘‘Yes, I know who Mollie is—we went to school to gether from kindergarten on.’’ Grace laughed. Then because he looked so dear, and so terrified, she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him. ‘‘Go. But you drive careful. Babies take their time coming. They’ll wait for you.’’

‘‘We’re having a baby,’’ he said slowly, as if testing each word. ‘‘Me and Mollie.’’

‘‘I know. And it’s just wonderful. You tell her I’m going to come see her, and the baby. Of course, if you just stand there like somebody glued your feet to the floor, I guess she’ll have to drive herself to the hospital.’’

‘‘God! I have to go.’’ He knocked over a chair on his way to the door. ‘‘Keys, where are the keys?’’

‘‘Your car keys are in your pocket. Bar keys are behind the bar. I’ll lock up, Daddy.’’

He stopped, tossed one huge, electrifying grin over his shoulder. ‘‘Wow!’’ And was gone.

Grace was still chuckling as she picked up the chair and replaced it upside down on the table.

She thought of the night when she had gone into labor with Aubrey. Oh, she’d been so afraid, so excited. She had indeed driven herself to the hospital. There’d been no husband there to panic with her. There’d been no one to sit with her, to tell her to breathe, to hold her hand.

When the pain and aloneness had been at its worst, she weakened and let the nurse call her mother. Of course her mother came, and stayed with her, and saw Aubrey into the world. They cried together, and laughed together, and it had made it all right again.

Her father hadn’t come. Not then, not later. Her mother had made excuses, tried to smooth it over, but Grace had understood she was not to be forgiven. Others had come, Julie and her parents, friends and neighbors.

Ethan and Professor Quinn.

They’d brought her flowers, pink and white daisies and rosebuds. She had pressed one of each in Aubrey’s baby book.

It made her smile to remember, so when the door behind her opened, she turned with a chuckle. ‘‘Steve, if you don’t get going, she’ll . . .’’ Grace trailed off, experiencing more annoyance than fear when she saw the man step inside. ‘‘We’re closed,’’ she said firmly.

‘‘I know, honey pie. I figured you’d find a way to hang back and wait for me.’’

‘‘I’m not waiting for you.’’ Why the hell hadn’t she locked the door behind Steve? ‘‘I said we’re closed. You’ll have to leave.’’

‘‘You want to play it that way, fine.’’ He sauntered over, leaned on the bar. He’d been working out regularly for months now and knew the stance showed off his well-toned muscles. ‘‘Why don’t you fix us both a drink? And we’ll talk about that tip.’’