“Just now. I was upstairs visiting Shane and . . .” Had he meant when did she get into town or when did she arrive at the pub? Never say “remember”; never say “I told you”—Colleen saw the words on the placard in Shane’s apartment.

“Oh, yes,” Gavin said with a nod. The noise level rose as the three-piece fiddle band began playing. Colleen thought again, as she had so many times, that although she’d never been to Ireland, if someone was put to sleep and awoke in this place, they would believe they had been transported to the Emerald Isle. At least as long as no one spoke in a thick southern accent or glanced at the photos on the walls.

As Dad walked away, Beckett approached. Colleen greeted him. “Hey, you. Sorry about last night. Not the best way to end a lovely date.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. How is . . . everyone?” He glanced around the pub.

“Not so great. But how’s the research coming for the historic marker?” She switched subjects quickly.

“Should be done in the next week or so. I thought it might make a good birthday present at your dad’s big party, but it won’t be ready in time.” Beckett approached the bar and ordered a glass of tonic water with lime for himself and Colleen nodded that she wanted the same, as Hallie made her way toward them. She reached their side and put her hand on Colleen’s arm. “We need to talk.”

“I thought you left.”

“I did, but . . .” She placed her hand on her stomach. “But I feel sick. I wanted to run away, find a place to hide, but I can’t. I want to talk to you. I know that doesn’t make sense and you can tell me to . . .”

“I’m here, Hallie.”

Beckett took a few steps back and engaged quickly in a conversation with a man he knew on the next bar stool.

“You are right about Walter.”

“For once, I don’t want to be right.” Colleen nodded but not with the satisfaction she’d thought might come.

“How it starts is how it ends.” Hallie motioned to Hank and he brought her a shot of whiskey. She drank it and slammed the glass to the bar. “Right? How it started, with cheating lies, is how it’s ending. How could I have expected anything less? It’s my own doing.”

“No, Hallie. It’s not your own doing. It’s his. You can see that, right? You didn’t do anything to make him cheat.”

“I’ve always felt that something was . . . wrong between us. Always, but I blamed it on you. Not on you, but on what I did to you. So I worked even harder to make our marriage great. I worked even harder to be a good wife and mother. I worked even harder to be . . . hell, I don’t know, as amazing as you.”