“Let’s see what we can do.” Maya reached past the man next to Tyler and grabbed a few feathers and a couple other odds and ends, then pulled up an empty chair and sat next to him. “What happens if you put these feathers to the back of this pink cockleshell?” She played around a moment, then showed him.

“Hmm. Kind of reminds me of a hay bale with a chicken on top.”

“That makes sense, coming from a guy in the world of farming.”

“That’s me all right. The next owner of Holt Feed and Seed.” Tyler spun a shell around like a top.

“You don’t seem too happy about that.”

He lifted a shoulder. “It’s just the way it is. My dad took over the store from his dad, and one day it’ll be my turn.” He pressed a feather against the cockleshell, then pulled it away and replaced it with an auger shell, but he didn’t like that either. She slid a slim, curved piece of driftwood to him. He took it and fit it against the curve of the cockle.

“Is there something else you want to do instead of the store?”

“I don’t know.” He rotated the sculpture in his hands. “Teach.” His voice was quiet. “I want to teach English.”

“What age?”

His head snapped up, a quizzical look on his face, as if he’d expected her to respond in another way. “Middle school, probably. Kids that age are old enough to have really smart ideas but not so old they’ve checked out. I want to share good books with them and teach writing and ideas and have conversations.” He shrugged again. “That probably sounds dumb.”

“It doesn’t sound dumb at all. Do you love what you do at the store? Do you love helping customers and selling seeds and, I don’t know, feed?”

“I mean, I don’t hate it, but no, I don’t love it.”

“Do you love teaching? Or at least the idea of it?”

He smiled. “Yeah. I do.”

“Then it’s clear. That’s where you should be. In a classroom with kids.”

He scoffed. “Try telling my dad that.”

“Have you tried telling him?”

“I once mentioned going to college and getting my teaching degree, and he actually thought I was making a joke.”

Maya nudged his shoulder. “Maybe you should try again. Because it sounds like your dad chose farming. You haven’t. You can choose the way your life goes.”

“What about you?” Tyler lifted his chin and peered at her with his deep blue eyes. “What do you want to do?”

In all her eighteen years, Maya hadn’t spent much time thinking about what she wanted out of her future. She’d always been focused on the here and now—who she was living with and where and what might be coming next. Even when she lived with her grandmother, she always had the sense that it was temporary. For the first time possibly ever, Maya felt a measure of safety. Of security. And it was possible what she wanted most was not to leave.