His uncle sighed. “Well, as little pain as possible. I’d like you boys to be there. And I’d like Didi not to be.”

“What about Steph? She’d definitely come if you wanted her to.”

“No, that’s fine. She’s got the girls. You two will be enough.”

It was hard to answer.

“You know what I miss?” Joe said, looking out the windows. “Sailing. Big Macs and sailing.”

“Do you still have the boat?” Lucas asked.

“No, no. We sold that a while ago. Didi said...well, hell, I have what? A month left? Let’s not waste it by talking about Didi.” He was quiet a moment, listlessly stirring his bland lunch. Then he looked up at Lucas. “You look just like your dad, you know. Except for the eyes. Those are your mother’s eyes.”

Lucas gave a half smile.

“Do you remember her?” Joe asked.

“Not a lot.”

“Well, she was the most beautiful woman I ever saw.” He paused a second. “Guess I’ll be seeing both your parents before long.”

The words made Lucas’s stomach twist. He knew Joe was dying.

It didn’t mean it would hurt less to lose him, the last link to his father, his affable, easygoing uncle who’d only ever been kind.

“How’s Stephie doing?” Joe said, changing the subject. “She coming to visit?”

“She is,” Lucas answered. “You’ll get to see all four girls, too.”

Joe laughed. “Fantastic. They’re firecrackers, those girls. It’ll be nice to have you all together. You know what? I want to have a picnic, all of us Campbells. What do you think?”

“Great idea,” he said.

“Would it be all right to ask the Forbes contingent? I feel like they’ve been family these past ten years.”

“Sure.”

Joe took out his phone and dialed. “Hi, Didi. Yeah, sorry, whatever, I’m dying, what can I say?” He rolled his eyes. “Look, I want to have a picnic. Steph and the girls are coming to... No, I haven’t forgotten. Yeah. Fine. No, I thought just us... Oh. No, I— Yeah. Okay. Whatever. Hanging up now.” He put the phone down. “She says it’s too much work, we should just go out for dinner, and if we’re doing a family picnic, her pack of hyenas has to be invited, too. Though she didn’t use that phrase, exactly.”

“I’ll take care of it. I’m seeing another lawyer about your divorce tomorrow,” Lucas said. This one was someone who specialized in complicated cases. “Didi never deserved you, Uncle Joe.”

“Word, nephew. Word.”

“Did you ever ask her for a divorce before?” he asked.

Joe nodded. “When Bryce was about eight. She said she’d move so far away I’d never see him. We signed a prenup, did you know that? At the time, I was the one who was supposed to make more money. But I signed one, too, and as luck would have it, she became the breadwinner.” He sighed. “And then your dad died, so things got more complicated.”

Two boys to raise, in other words, instead of just one. So Joe had stayed. For him and for Bryce.

“I’ll take care of things, Joe. Don’t worry about anything.”

“I know you will, son.”

At the word son, Lucas had to look down at the table.

“Ah, Lucas. You know what they say,” Joe said, covering Lucas’s hand with his own. “Only the good die young.”

* * *

THE NEXT DAY, the news wasn’t what Lucas had hoped to hear.

“I do understand, I really do,” the attorney said. “But given the time frame, it’s probably not possible. If it were uncontested, that would still be tricky, though I know a judge who might do it, given your uncle’s health. As it is, though, I can’t see it happening.”

Lucas was in Ithaca to see the attorney, who’d been recommended by an old college friend. New York required a yearlong separation, and Joe didn’t have nearly that much time. The law didn’t make exceptions for a man who just wanted to die without being shackled to his bitchy wife.

The lawyer frowned. “Think we could prove cruel and inhuman treatment?”

“Probably,” Lucas said, thinking of Joe’s dark little room off the kitchen.

“Being a bitch doesn’t necessarily equal cruel and inhuman,” the lawyer said, reading his mind. “Has she had an affair that you know of?”

“No.”

“Too bad.” She sighed. “I wish I could help you.”

So that was that. Too freaking bad, because Lucas wouldn’t have minded seeing the look on Didi’s face when she was handed divorce papers. And the look on Joe’s when he could be free of his pinched, sour wife.

Well. He’d be free soon enough.

Lucas walked out to the parking lot. He had to check in on the public safety building; the foundation had been poured, and the framing was well under way. He could also bring Bryce to Jeanette O’Rourke’s house and get him started on some sanding—the bridal store job was only part-time. Hopefully, Bryce could handle that without injury.

His phone rang. “Hey, Joe. What can I do for you?”

“I hate to bother you, but I was wondering if you could come get me. I’m at dialysis, and Didi’s an hour late. She’s not picking up on her cell or at work.”

He sounded exhausted. “I’m about an hour away,” Lucas said. “Bryce isn’t around?”

There was a pause. “I called you first. I’m sorry. I should’ve thought.”

“No, no problem. I’ll call him right now and call you back.” Someone would have to help Joe into the house and into bed. A cab wouldn’t cut it, if Manningsport even had cabs.

He hit Bryce’s number on his contacts list. It went right to voice mail, indicating the phone was off. Called the house phone; the answering machine picked up. “Bryce, if you’re there, pick up the phone. It’s Lucas.”

Nothing.

Shit.

Lucas rubbed his jaw. He only had one option. A second later, he made the call.

“O’Rourke’s, home of the best damn nachos on the face of the earth,” she sang merrily.

“Colleen, it’s Lucas.” His voice was tense, even to his own ears.

“Everything okay?” she asked instantly.

“My uncle’s stuck at dialysis, and I can’t reach Bryce. Is he there?”

“No, sorry, he’s not. I can go get Joe, though, if that’s what you need.”

He paused only for a second. “That’d be great.”

“You bet. Connor! I have to run out. Have Monica come in and cover for me, okay?”

“Thank you,” Lucas said. “I’m in Ithaca, but I’m on my way.”

“Don’t drive like a maniac,” she chided. “I’ll take good care of him.”

“I know.”

There was a pause. “Okay,” she said, and her voice was softer. “See you later.”

* * *

“COME ON, YOGI,” Colleen said to her sister. “We’re off to be angels of mercy.”

“Okay,” Savannah said instantly, sliding out of the booth where she’d been drawing. “What’s an angel of mercy?”

“It’s us. My friend is sick, and he needs a ride home from the hospital. And boy, is he gonna be happy to see you. He loves kids. Especially the smart, nice kind.”

They got into the car, stopped to get Rufus (Joe loved Rufus, and who didn’t?). The dog climbed gently over Savannah in the backseat, making her sister laugh; the kid adored the monster.

The hospital was fifteen minutes away. Colleen kept up a stream of chatter, but her heart felt tight.

Poor Joe.

And poor Lucas. He’d sounded so...worried. Worried and clenched and...and grateful.

That warm, dark chocolate voice of his should be illegal.

“Stay in the car, Rufus, boy. Come on, Savannah, let’s go find our pal.”

Colleen didn’t waste any time getting up to Dialysis, and there he was, looking small in the uncomfortable chair in the waiting room. He was sleeping. He must’ve looked a lot like Lucas’s father, because she could see the resemblance to Lucas, the strong jaw and straight nose. Bryce and Lucas could’ve passed for brothers themselves.

She went over and knelt next to him. “Hey there, handsome,” she said softly, winking at Savannah, who looked a little worried. Joe opened his eyes, momentarily confused. “Did someone call an escort service?”

“Colleen,” he said, smiling. “It must be my lucky day. And who’s this beautiful girl?”

“This is my sister, Savannah,” she said. “Savannah, meet Smiling Joe Campbell, the nicest guy in the world.”

“Hi,” she said.

Ten minutes later, they were helping Joe into his front door, Rufus trotting around the house to sniff the good spots. She’d left a message for Bryce, but hadn’t gotten a call back.

“Can you handle the stairs?” she asked, as Joe had struggled in just from the car.

“My room’s off the kitchen,” he said.

Lucas’s old room.

Colleen peeked in. Not a lot of memories here, as they’d always gone to her house whenever possible (or the backseat of her car, or the no-tell motel in Rutledge). But she’d been in here, of course. And it was still basically a big closet. No window.

This house was frickin’ huge. Living room, family room, den, sunroom, kitchen, dining room, laundry room, and that was just on the first floor.

And Joe was in a storage room where his nephew had once been banished.

“Let’s get you settled on the couch,” she said, taking Joe’s arm. “There’s a gorgeous breeze today, and this room’s a little stuffy.”

“Sounds good,” Joe said, his voice weak.

They helped him into the living room, which was stiff and formal. Chintz fabric everywhere, like a giant Laura Ashley explosion. Savannah thoughtfully got a pillow and a blanket, and Rufus, who was an archangel in disguise, sat next to the couch like a guardian.

“I always thought it’d be nice to have a dog,” Joe said, petting Rufus. Within seconds, he was asleep.

“He sleeps in a closet?” Savannah whispered as they went into the kitchen.

“I know,” Colleen said. “His wife is a big poopyhead.”

“We should make him a cozy spot,” Savannah offered. “I’m good at that.”

Colleen paused. “Let’s do it,” she said. “Cozy spot commencing.”

An hour later, the sunroom was transformed. A multicolored sign hung over the doorway...Joe’s Cozy Spot, courtesy of Savannah taping five pieces of paper together and discovering a stash of Magic Markers in a kitchen drawer.

“Looks great,” Paulie said, lying on the hospital bed. She closed her eyes. “Very comfy.” Rufus nudged her shoulder with his nose, hoping to climb on, and Paulie smiled.

Because yes, the troops had been called in. Colleen needed help moving furniture, and she needed it fast. She was afraid Didi the Poopyhead would come home and have a fit, which Colleen guessed she was entitled to do, being that this was her house and all.

But it was Joe’s house, too. The man was dying, and it was absolutely ridiculous that he was crammed into that sad, dark little room.

It’d be nice, too, having Paulie do something nice for Bryce’s father. She’d been here five minutes after Colleen made the call. They’d moved the coffee table and two big comfy chairs into the storage room and brought out the hospital bed. There was still a couch and chair, and the big TV, and best of all, the view of the pretty yard, of trees and sky and birds and whatever wildlife might wander in.

Much better than four walls.

Savannah had wandered the house like a little thief, lifting whatever she thought might brighten Joe’s spirits—a picture of him and Bryce from years ago, a Yankees sign from Bryce’s apartment downstairs, some throw pillows from one of the empty bedrooms, a blue glass sun catcher from the dining room.

“Who’s this?” the girl asked now, coming back in with another framed photo. “Is that Joe?”

Colleen looked at the picture, her heart snagging. “Yep. That’s Joe there, and that looks like his brother. And that’s Bryce, and that’s Lucas.”

Even in the picture, you could see which brother had toughed it out, and which had an easier life. Lucas’s dad and Joe were practically twins, but Dan Campbell was leaner and rougher-looking. The kind of guy who could handle himself, as the saying went.

Like father, like son.

The boys must’ve been about ten in this picture, and they were at a ball game. Bryce and Lucas were all cheeky grins and big eyes. Killer lashes, both of them.

It was quite uncomfortable, sometimes, how much they looked alike.

Colleen hadn’t seen many pictures of Lucas as a child. None, now that she thought of it.

He’d been beautiful. Skinny and absolutely beautiful.

“Hey.”

Colleen jumped. “Hi. You’re back.”

“Sorry it took so long. There was construction.” His eyes took in their handiwork. “Hi, Paulie.”

“I’m resting,” she said amiably from the bed. “How you doing, Lucas?”

“Good.” He looked down. “Hello, little girl who plays great baseball.”

Savannah grinned. “I’m Savannah. Her sister.”

“Yes. You look a lot alike.”

Savannah’s face lit up, and Colleen felt another healthy chunk of her heart melt.