AT JUSTINE’S REQUEST, HOPE BLOCKED OFF THE INN FOR family on the night of MacTavish’s Restaurant and Tap House’s friends and family night. For the last ten days of a sweltering August, Avery and her crew—and anyone she could dragoon—hauled, carted, scrubbed, and polished her new space. Often when she did her final nightly walk-through of the inn, Hope would see the lights on across the street, and knew Avery and Owen had yet to call it a day. Sometimes she spotted Willy B’s truck parked late into the night, or stirred when Ryder and D.A. slipped in well after she’d gone to bed.

His usual comment was: “Jesus, the Little Red Machine never runs out of gas.”

She helped when she could, hanging art or scrubbing tiles, and as she had with the inn, saw the transformation of a neglected, unused space into something vital and exciting and smart.

Hope spent most of the day of the event doing her favorite thing—perfecting finishing touches—while Avery fussed with recipes, loaded in fresh produce, and held her final staff meeting.

“It’s going to be good, right?” Taking a break, Avery brought Hope a bottle of water and guzzled one of her own.

“Avery, it’s going to be fabulous.”

“It’s going to be good.” With a nod, Avery turned a circle in the bar area. “It looks really good.”

“The word’s perfect.”

The lighting struck a note between contemporary and Old World with funky shapes and dark bronze tones. Pendants hung over the long granite top of the mahogany bar. High-tops, low-tops, leather sofas offered inviting seating in a room full of character and texture. From the rehabbed wood siding to the old-style brick, the old gold walls and sage green accents, Avery had created a space Hope imagined full of people and fun.

“It’s exactly what I wanted. The fabulous Montgomery boys made it so.” Avery leaned against the doorjamb, smiled in at the restroom where Hope had fussed, adding bud vases to the counter beside the copper vessel sink, polishing the bronze-framed mirror. “Even the johns are perfect.”

Avery stepped back as she heard the restaurant door open.

“Sorry I couldn’t get here before.”

“Don’t apologize,” she said to Clare as she walked through. “Do you know how pregnant you are?”

Clare rubbed her rounded belly. “Pretty pregnant.” She left her hands there as she looked around. “It doesn’t look like you need me. It looks amazing, Avery.”

The dark wood floors gleamed. Lighting sparkled.

“It doesn’t look like the same place. And God, something smells good.”

“I’ve got some soup on. Are you hungry?”

“Constantly.”

“Come on back to the kitchen, have a sample.”

“I will. I want to look around first.” Clare walked down to the bar side, slid an arm around Hope’s waist. “Wow, look at all those taps.”