Page 54

“What’s better than a family tree? A family treehouse.” Mr. Yao’s gaze shifted to Chuck, assessing him with the same careful attention he’d given the renovation. “Helen didn’t come.”

“Good choice.” Chuck held his gaze firmly, wanting the warning to be clear. “We don’t tolerate abuse in this house.”

“No.” Mr. Yao bobbed his head and touched the thin white hair on his crown. His mouth buckled. “She mentioned she spoke to you, or with you, about your… relationship with Niall and Winnie.”

Chuck tensed, preparing for another round of warnings or disapproval. “She did.”

“Mmh.”

“Yeah. Not the greatest day of my life.” Chuck sighed but held his ground. He belonged here, and he didn’t want any doubts from the Yaos about his sincerity. “Aside from the insults, she offered to buy me out of my own life. I could have made that ugly. Winnie is the only reason I don’t.”

“A misunderstanding, perhaps.” Mr. Yao shook his head.

“No misunderstanding. An ambush.” Chuck kept his voice quiet and level, conscious of the party around them, of Niall twenty feet across the room. “I don’t tolerate abuse, sir. Certainly not from strangers. Your wife doesn’t get a pass because she’s a woman or a mother or a grandmother. Plenty of families act like monsters because no one stops them. But I do. I stop them.”

Mr. Yao blinked. “My wife means well.” His measured tone didn’t make it sound any better. Making excuses must have turned into a toxic habit at some point.

“I don’t care what she means.”

“She worries about Winnie. About Niall too, though she’d never admit it.”

“Good. They need people who care about them. Nevertheless, you know and I know that ‘worry’ played no part in her behavior. And so I’m warning you both—I won’t tolerate abuse.”

Mr. Yao clamped his lips together, as if choosing his next word cautiously. “She didn’t approve of Elise leaving them, you know. Saw it as selfish, abandoning her entire family, all of us, to chase some fantasy, some con man who was never going to work out however she imagined. I never understood, myself, but Helen took her abandonment personally.”

Chuck nodded, unsure what to say. He’d always assumed the Yaos disapproved of him on principle—because he was the town screwup, because he didn’t measure up, because he wasn’t family. The idea they might have more complicated feelings about Niall and Winnie, about the way things might have been, hadn’t occurred to him. Obviously Helen had serious issues. None of his business.

“You’re a good influence on both of them,” Mr. Yao continued, his gaze returning to the treehouse. “Helen will come around, eventually.”

“That’s nothing to do with me. I don’t care what she does, and I never will. She’s your monster.” Chuck started to move away, but the old man stopped him with a feeble hand on his forearm.

“A lot of it is anger at our daughter, who deserves it. You do not.”

Chuck shook his head, unwilling to accept the excuses. “Yeah. I know all about black sheep. Your daughter didn’t spring out of the pavement, sir. Someone raised her. Someone taught her. Someone set the stage. She may be terrible, but she came from somewhere.”

“I know.” Mr. Yao nodded once, like punctuation. “My wife only wanted proof you won’t do worse at the first sign of trouble.”

“I don’t plan to.” Chuck meant it.

“See that you don’t.” Mr. Yao nodded, as if that settled the matter. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I.”

And with that, the old man shuffled off to examine Gavin’s window display sailing on its stormy sea of pages, leaving Chuck to absorb the conversation. He could almost understand, but forgiving the Yaos was not his responsibility.

Maybe it wouldn’t be easy. But Chuck had a set of keys, a solid ladder, and a kid who saved him the good cushion.

He had Niall… with a future worth fighting for. A family treehouse.

He wove through the crowd, accepting a gingerbread cookie from a plate on the counter as he dodged a sticky phalanx of kids in wizard hats, and headed toward the rear of the store.

The treehouse was still packed with children in various stages of reading, climbing, and arguing. Winnie had her nose deep in The Secret in the Old Attic and seemed oblivious to the commotion around her. After dodging Celeste again and shifting a ladder out of reach of some furtive high schoolers, he made his way to the register, where Niall was ringing up a bald, rangy customer’s stack of color-coded medical thrillers and a geolocation activity guide.

Even with a line out the door, Niall’s hands were steady and his words kind, as if he’d spent the whole day preparing for these three minutes. The customer’s tie was askew, his scalp sweat-damp, but his smile was so contented it forced Chuck to go check the tree again.

As soon as the last customer left, Niall leaned over and whispered, “You did great today, by the way.”

Chuck’s cheeks warmed. “It was all Winnie. I just held the ladder.”