behind her ears. Her shoulders in a sleeveless dress were lightly sunburned, making the faint freckles stand out. Her bare legs ended in thin strappy sandals.
Darcy climbed down the ladder and dropped the stack of dusty, faded pennants into a box. He felt a bit awkward with Emma. Already she seemed to be withdrawing from him. Was it appropriate to kiss her on the cheek like a friend? But she wasn’t just a friend. Her cheek would never be sufficient.
“Thanks again for checking on my dad.”
“He’s looking so much better. He’s going to be fine.” She gave him one of her hugs, moderate on the Emma scale but still full of warmth and caring. It was just like her to set aside their differences to offer her support.
He hugged her back then released her reluctantly. Their gazes met, and her eyes were filled with compassion and guilt and wariness. Darcy leaned over the car seat. His love for his son was less complicated than the confused mixture of emotions he felt for Emma. “Hey, monkey face.”
“Nice way to talk to a baby.” But she couldn’t hide a smile.
Billy blew a raspberry. Darcy gasped melodramatically and wiped a drop of moisture off his cheek. “Who taught you that? Who taught you to spit at your daddy?”
Billy waved his arms and laughed. In his tight fist he held the plastic ring of keys.
“He’s really got a good grip now,” Darcy said.
“He’s changing every day.” Emma stroked her baby’s cheek. “Aren’t you, bub?”
“Then I need to see him every day.”
She glanced at him then away, her blue-green eyes as unfathomable as the deepest ocean. “It’s hard to imagine the pub any different than it is now.”
What was that look? That evasive answer? Was she going to have a problem with giving him access to Billy? He supposed every day wasn’t practical but damn it, this was his child. “I’m looking forward to seeing the pub as it was originally intended. It will make the place feel more like mine.”
Plus, Emma’s barb about his procrastination had hit home, and he was determined to prove her wrong.
“I said some things...” she began.
“Never mind. You were right. I am a dreamer, but I’m determined to do this.”
“I really hope it works out.” She picked up the car seat. “I’ll go nurse Billy and put him down for his nap. Then I’ll come and help you.”
“What about your packing?”
“Packing can wait. This is part of my history, too.” She headed for the stairs.
Now for the job he’d been dreading the most. Darcy started to take down the photos on the big corkboard opposite the bar. Many were yellowing and curled at the edges, some completely obscured by newer layers. There were pictures of Darcy and his brothers and sister as kids—fishing off the pier, playing at the beach and eating ice cream in the park. He’d never quite understood his father putting family photos in the pub until he’d had Holly, and he spent so much time there that he wanted a pictorial reminder of her while he worked. It was equivalent to an office worker having framed photos of his wife and kids on his desk.
There were quite a few snapshots of him and Emma, of them with Holly, of Emma and Alana on a sailing dinghy, their hair blowing back from laughing flushed faces. The bay waters in the background reminded him of the cruise. It hadn’t turned out anything like he’d hoped. Instead of finding a new woman who would take his mind off Emma, he’d entwined his life inextricably with hers forever through Billy. A year ago he would have kicked himself for being so dumb. Now he thanked God for his good luck. When he thought of how close he’d come to not having this child...
“You’re not throwing these out, are you?” Emma pulled the framed photos of 1950s and 1960s Summerside out of the box.
“I was going to take them to the secondhand shop.”
“If they were reframed and hung on the newly painted walls they would look fantastic. The pub has a lot of character. I don’t think you should mess with it too much. Just streamline it a bit, make it less cluttered, with new furniture in an old-fashioned style.”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I was thinking.” It was, although he hadn’t known it until she’d articulated it.
“You should paint upstairs while you’re at it,” Emma went on. “Even renovate the kitchen, make it bigger. With a decent cooking space you