Hallie exhaled through pursed lips as if she’d just run a race. “Isn’t it always?” She waved her hand through the air. “Okay, just joking.” She grimaced. “A bad joke.”

“Very bad,” Colleen said and rolled her eyes. “Okay, how are we going to ask him?”

“I was thinking we’d go out on the boat—me, you and Dad.” Hallie’s eyes shimmied away from Colleen’s, a quick movement. “I know you’ll say no, but I think it will get him to relax and remember, be receptive. It’s been a long, long time and he asks for you so often . . .”

“He asks to go out on the river with us?” Colleen straightened up, feeling a tug on her chest as if Hallie had just caught her with a fishhook and reeled her in.

“Yes.”

“Okay, then we will.”

Hallie shut a notebook and brought her gaze back to Colleen, or at least near her. “I know I haven’t said anything yet, but that article you wrote about ten tips for travel is really good. I didn’t know any of those stories about you.”

Colleen spoke carefully. “Thank you. That’s nice of you to say.” For the moment she kept to herself the e-mail about possibly writing a memoir; she wanted to savor the idea and even when she did speak of it, Hallie would not be the first one she would tell.

“You know,” Hallie said, pulling out a large binder labeled “60th Birthday,” “I’ve read all your articles, or all of them that I know about. Not sure if I’ve kept up, but I’ve tried.”

“Really?”

Hallie nodded. “It’s quite the life you live now.”

She always seemed to be having two conversations with Hallie. Colleen took a deep breath, decided not to delve into the hidden meanings. While she was weighing her words, her phone beeped—a text from Philippe: I believe you now, Colleen. It’s been a pleasure being your friend. Take care of yourself. Good-bye.

Colleen let out a long puff of air and deleted it. She could try and talk to him about it. She could appease him with a few words of adoration, but none of it seemed worth it at the moment. And what good would it do to keep him near? She didn’t feel the same as he did. She was done.

“Anything important?” Hallie asked lightly.

Colleen looked up. “Not really. A guy in New York.” She shrugged as her phone beeped again—this time a text from Beckett.

You busy tonight? Would love to see you.

Hallie laughed. “A guy who’s not giving up?”

“No, a different guy this time.”

“See?” Hallie leaned forward and spoke as if they were companions again in the tree house making a daisy chain together. “You can have any guy you want. That’s always been true.”