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caught and held her gaze. “You’re starting over, girlfriend. Do it right.”
    * * *
    S HE LOOKED DIFFERENT . Watching Kate step off the back porch to join him, Ben wasn’t sure how she’d changed, but she had. Her brown eyes looked brighter somehow, her hair shinier. Tendrils that escaped her ponytail fell about her face in perky golden-brown commas. The fact that she wasn’t wearing Dan’s old sweatshirt didn’t hurt matters at all. He wondered if that had anything to do with the women that had filled the bed-and-breakfast that afternoon. He’d gone into the kitchen to beg a cup of coffee, but had left empty-handed when he heard the noise from the rest of the house.
    He returned her smile. “Good day?”
    She fell into step beside him. “Real good,” she said, and held up one foot, giving it a little spin. “See my new shoes? Aren’t they pretty? How about you? Have you settled your future yet? Is it doctor or ski bum? Or maybe a bartender like those guys in that old Tom Cruise movie,
Cocktail
?”
    He tugged at her ponytail but was silent for a half block. The only sounds were the soft ones of their rubber-soled shoes and Lucy’s toenails against the sidewalk. When he spoke, he heard the hesitancy in his own words. “Everything I said before is true, but the first and most important reason I’m here for the summer is that my dad—” He stopped, reminding himself of his promise to his parents to not talk about Tim’s illness outside the family.
    But for years, Kate had been
inside
the family. She’d had her own toothbrush in the upstairs bathroom, her own pillow on the spare twin bed in Morgan’s room. Tim had taught her to dance and Maeve had shared the magic of Irish cooking with her. Kate and Dylan had been so close Ben had suffered a few bouts of jealousy, no less painful for being silent—they were still close as far as he knew and the thought of it still made him resentful. She’d been a bridesmaid when Patrick and Wendy got married. If it hadn’t been for Ben’s idiocy thirteen years ago—but, no, there was no way of knowing that.
    “Your dad?” Kate prompted, drawing Lucy to a stop before they crossed the street. “Don’t tell me he’s going to take a vacation and you came home to help in the bar. Tim
never
takes a vacation.”
    “More than a regular vacation, really,” Ben said, relieved she’d made answering that question so easy. “His and Mom’s trips back to Ireland have all been for funerals. Their families have always come here to visit. We know they get homesick, so we’re sending the folks to Ireland for the entire summer and we’re going to run the bar.”
    Sadness settled on Kate’s features. “Who’s sick? Your grandma in Cork? One of your aunts and uncles? Tim and Maeve would never leave McGuffey’s or you kids for that long unless they had no choice.”
    He should have known she’d pick up on that. The weight of knowing about his father’s illness and—worse—his prognosis, grew heavier with the effort to not talk about it. Maybe if he changed the subject, he could keep his promise.
    Ben looked around, searching for something to say that didn’t have to do with Tim. The mud was dissipating early this spring. The growers in the Northeast Kingdom would be planting their gardens in the coming days. “Are you planting a garden this year?”
    She shrugged. “Probably. Everyone on Alcott Street helps with it, plus Penny and Dan. One thing about a double lot is there’s plenty of space.” Her sigh was bone deep. “Especially now, with the house gone.”
    “Right. All vegetables?”
    “Mostly, but we put flowers around the edges. Some of them help with insects, and the butterflies look so pretty around them.” She grinned at him, though her eyes were questioning. “Did you want me to plant you a nice row of beets?”
    “Yuck. You bet. Right next to your favorite kind of squash.”
    She left his side, taking a seat on a park bench in front of the candle