Hallie headed their way with a fake smile. “I’m so excited about the new things I’ve added to the party. We’re doing sparklers and poppers when he walks in. There will be party favors to take home—small bottles of whiskey! Jameson’s agreed to donate. And the fiddle band canceled a big gig to be with us.”

“Whoa!” Shane laughed and held up his hands. “Great ideas, Ms. Bubbly. But don’t bring that coffee to Colleen when she’s near the photos.”

“You have coffee near them.” Colleen pouted and pointed at his mug on the breakfast table.

“I’m not you,” he said with a grin, and Hallie laughed with him as she handed Colleen and Shane the extra coffees.

“Not funny,” Colleen said, but the edges of her mouth turned up before she took a sip of the scalding drink. Some things didn’t change—yes, she spilled and tripped and broke things. “Thanks for this,” she said and lifted her cup to Hallie. Was it a peace offering? Probably not. It was best not to read into anyone’s motivations; it was best to stick on a smile and get through the tasks at hand.

“So what’s your great idea?” Hallie dropped her satchel on the floor, not making eye contact with Colleen and asking Shane.

Colleen looked at her brother. “Those four words of yours—‘I have an idea’—have gotten me into more hot water than anything in my life.”

“I know. But this time for the good.” Shane straightened and smiled. “We’re going to save his memories. We will be his memory keepers.”

“Do you know of a treatment? Something new? I know there’s loads of research and . . .” Hallie’s voice rose in a tone Colleen recognized as hopeful. For as little as she knew about her sister now, who she was and how she lived, it was odd to know the tone of Hallie’s voice as clearly and accurately as if she’d typed up her feelings and handed them to Colleen to read.

Shane shook his head. “Nothing like that. We can hope and we won’t give up, but this idea has to do with his party in two weeks. After meeting with the doctor and reading about this horrific disease I know this much: it steals your memories.”

“Yes,” Hallie said. “Steals. It’s like a thief. A horrible, evil thief.” She removed her glasses and set them on top of the photos to press her fingers gently into the corners of her eyes.