Page 65 of Last Call

Fallon shrugged. “It’s not really my call.”

Pete let out a deep sigh.

“You don’t need my approval, Pete. Beth’s no pushover. She can take care of herself—and you,” Fallon added with a wink.

“So? What about you?”

“Me? I’m married. Thank God.”

“Very funny, Foster. I meant what’s happening with you and Riley on the kid front?” Pete asked.

“Right now, we’re just focused on getting the house built and moving in.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“What?” Pete asked.

“Don’t what me.”

“I just wondered if you were thinking about selling the pub,” Pete mused.

“Why would I do that?”

“No real reason,” Pete replied.

Fallon cast a skeptical glance at Pete, sensing that there was more behind his comment.

“It’s just changed, is all. Everybody’s settling down. You know? It seems like Carol gets more families in there now than people at the bar. But it’s still mostly a bar.”

Fallon scratched her brow. Carol had spent the last few months making subtle yet effective changes at Murphy’s Law. She had expanded the menu, organized acoustic and trivia nights, and introduced some fun drink specials. She suggested to Fallon that it might be wise to close the pub earlier during the week—reserving the late nights for Thursday through Saturday. The pub was financially stable. Fallon didn’t see itsinking. It also wasn’tsailing.

“I touched a nerve, huh?” Pete asked.

“No. And no, I’m not selling Murphy’s.”

“But?”

“I’m considering a new project. It’s still in my brain. We’ll see.”

Riley’s voice pulled Fallon’s attention away.

“Fallon! Can you start the grill?” Riley called from the kitchen.

“That would be me,” Fallon said.

“You’re going to cook?”

“No. I’m going to grill.”

“How come you never do that at Murphy’s?” Pete asked.

“Cook?”

“No. Grill.”

“What would Don do?” Fallon asked.

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