Joe looked up from a frosted mug hovering under an open beer tap, and his stoic expression melted into a wide grin. He set the beer in front of a guy at the bar, came around, and wrapped Ivy in a bear hug. He leaned back, lifting her feet off the floor. “Back from the great north.”

Laughter spilled out of Ivy. “Joe! Still as strong as ever.”

He set her down gently and regarded her. “And you’re as pretty. I was sorry to hear about Ruth. I loved that lady.”

“I saw you at the funeral.” That day remained a blur of faces and well-meaning comments. But she remembered Joe standing in the back of the funeral home, his blue eyes red with tears. “She was the best.”

“I have one of her pictures hanging over there.”

Ivy followed his gaze to a rendering of the beach across the street from Joe’s bar. It captured a couple facing a sunrise spilling reds, oranges, and aquas over a calm ocean. “It’s fantastic.”

“She gave it to me when I took over the bar two years ago. Said it was a new day at O’Toole’s, and the moment needed to be celebrated.”

“She had a soft spot for you,” she said. The Seaside Resort and O’Toole’s had teamed up for an annual charity event to benefit the fire department each May. For several years, Ivy and Joe had worked their respective booths. He’d sold small plates of bangers and mash, and she’d served bowls of fish chowder and corn bread. There might have been some friendly competition between their booths. Okay, there was. She had won the last two years, but who was counting. “How’s your dad?”

“All right. The stroke took the wind out of him, and he’s never quite gotten his mobility back. He comes in here from time to time but mostly stays home and drives my mother nuts.”

Ruth had been rattled by Frank’s stroke. She had said over and over that she hoped the good Lord took her quick when her time came. Ivy remembered joking that Ruth would live forever. “How’s business?”

“Better than last January. No one wants to be home. They’d rather sit at the bar with a few strangers.”

“I get it.”

Matthew shifted his gaze toward an empty table. “Joe, mind if we get a couple of menus and we take that table?”

Joe handed them two laminated menus. “You know the drill.”

“The burger and fries still in the lineup?” Ivy asked.

“Would Ruth ever have taken the fried chicken off her menu?” Joe asked.

“Hell no.”

“There’s your answer.”

“Good to know. I’ll take that and a beer.”

“Easy enough.”

Matthew grinned. “I’ll have the grilled-chicken sandwich.”

“No mayo. Salad, no fries?” Joe asked.

“I don’t have Ivy’s metabolism,” Matthew said.