“Yes,” Colleen said. “I remember. Good times.” She glanced at Shane and then at the women. “I have to go now, but so good to see you both.” As she walked off with Shane she mumbled, “It’s true, there are ghosts in the Lark.”

Shane laughed and pushed at the swinging doors to the back room. “They’re definitely not ghosts. Their happy hour drinking might be keeping the pub alive for another day. They are most definitely regulars.”

“I believe they come here for you as much as for the drinks. I see how they look at you.”

“Lost cause.”

Colleen stepped through the open door he held for her and then stopped. “Shane, have I become a story?”

“What do you mean?”

“I know how things are here—not only in the town but also at the pub. Stories are told and retold; town gossip and all that. You know, the sister left at the altar. Am I one of those town gossip stories? I must be, because that woman just—”

“I don’t know. And even if you are, who cares?” He winked. “Might do the pub some good.”

Colleen gave a light punch to her brother’s arm. “You’re so mean.” She nodded toward the main room. “Hey, there’s some guy out there who’s researching our pub for the state historical society. Have you talked to him?”

“Yep. Good guy. He goes all around South Carolina to save buildings. He’s a real history buff and loves it here.”

“Why does it do us any good for him to label this a historical site?”

“Tax breaks.” Shane smiled. “We can use any break we can get.”

“Break?” Hallie asked as she entered the back room to join them.

Colleen glanced behind Hallie. “Where are your girls?”

Hallie dropped her satchel onto the back counter. “Walter is putting them to bed at home, to much protest.” Her smile dropped and her face grew serious. “How are your photo stories coming?”

“I did three more today. But I don’t know if we can do this—you know, make sense of a life that isn’t ours.” Colleen looked back and forth between her siblings.

Shane made a dismissive gesture. “We don’t have to make sense of it. We only have to record what we can so he can look at the book, see it and read. If there are blanks or inconsistencies in what someone tells you, you can casually ask Dad about what he remembers, too, until he can’t remember anything at all. Don’t push too hard or get him upset.”

“Well, maybe digging up old memories isn’t such a great idea.” Colleen addressed her brother. “Everyone remembers things differently. Each memory goes on top of another memory, changing it all.”