“I used to know what that meant. What are you doing in town?”

“Dragging you away. Come look at the new place. You haven’t been in for more than a week.”

“I wanted to, but—”

“I know. Now everybody’s gone. Take a break.”

“We have to turn all the rooms—and I have to order more supplies. We have a couple checking in later.”

“That’s later. Come on. Clare’s coming. She just had to check something at the bookstore. You can take twenty minutes.”

“You’re right. And I could use it. Just let me tell Carolee.”

“I already did.” Avery grabbed her hand. “Come let me show off.”

“I saw the sign. It’s great. Charming and cute and fun.”

“We’re going to be full of charming and fun, and really good food.” She pulled Hope along by the hand. “Owen says mid-August, and I’m so excited about that—but the way it’s going, maybe sooner. I mean they’d be finished sooner and I’d have longer to set up and perfect.”

“You’d have had sixteen people Saturday night, I can tell you that. I’m plugging you big-time.”

“Appreciated.” As they crossed the street, Avery dug out her keys. “Prepare to be wowed.”

“Prepared.”

Avery threw open the door.

The old dark tile was gone. Hardwood replaced it, deep and rich and protected by tarps and cardboard sheets, but Hope saw enough to be wowed. Stamped copper gleamed from the ceiling, and the walls were smooth, primed and waiting for paint.

“Avery, it’s going to be even better than I imagined.”

“You ain’t seen nothing yet. They tiled the bathrooms.”

She kept dragging Hope, here, there—to see the tile, the fresh walls in the kitchen, through the now framed opening to the bar side.

“Oh, they’ve restored the siding. It’s fabulous!”

“Isn’t it?” Avery ran her fingers over the smooth wood. “This was the best surprise, and see my brick wall—it’s just right. They’re going to paint, and put in the lights, the bathroom fixtures, the kitchen . . . then the bar goes in. I may cry when the bar goes in.”

“I’ll bring tissues. Oh, here’s Clare. And look at the raised platform; the kids helped build it. I may cry now. Honey,” she said when she got a good look at Clare, “are you okay? You’re a little green.”

“It’s July,” Clare reminded her, and took slow little sips from her water bottle. “And it’s twins.”

“There’s a step stool in the kitchen. Stay right there.”

“I’m fine,” Clare began, but Avery was on the dash. “But I could sit.”

“You shouldn’t be out in this heat.”

“I’m not going to be for long. But pregnant or not, I have to live. Beckett’s dealing with the boys, the dogs, and the super-duper sprinkler.”

“You hit the jackpot there.”