The bookshop door opens again, and Evie races inside. “Mama!”

Aunt Franny pulls Evie into her arms, and they embrace tightly. “You smell funny,” Evie says.

“Cold showers and yak milk,” Aunt Franny says. “I just want my bed back.”

“Your bed is occupied,” Mom reminds her sister. “Your house is still being rented by a family of four. Where is everyone staying?”

“Here, of course,” Grandma says.

One, two, three, four, five. Five people, three bedrooms.

And half of us aren’t on speaking terms.

“We don’t fit,” Mom points out.

“We’ll find a way. Franny, pay the driver,” Grandma says bluntly.

Aunt Franny grumbles under her breath.

“For the last time, and before we do anything else,” Grandma says in a louder voice, “why is there a naked photo of my daughter on the front of my shop?”

“Adrian Summers put it there!” I shout.

Everyone looks at me.

“Adrian Summers?” Grandma says. “Levi’s boy? Why in the world would he do that? He’s at Harvard. That’s preposterous.”

I look at Evie. She broke up with Adrian, and this isn’t her problem anymore. It’s mine. It’s always been mine. Now it’s time to own up to it.

“Because,” I tell Grandma, exhaling deeply, “he somehow got that photo online and thinks it’s me.”

“Why would he think that?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” I tell her. “But he showed that photo to a bunch of Goldens at a party and bad-mouthed all the Saint-Martins, and I got mad, so …” I turn to my Mom. “So I threw a rock and smashed his father’s department store window.”

“You what?” Grandma says.

“I got taken into the police station, but not arrested,” I tell Grandma. “Lucky took the fall for me. His family’s lawyer negotiated with Levi Summers to pay for the window. I’ve been paying him back out of my paycheck every week.” And to my Mom I say, “I’m sorry. I should have told you the truth from the start.”

Mom’s shoulders slump, as if there’s a physical weight to what I’ve just told her. “Dammit,” she mumbles. Not mad. Just defeated. “Josie …”

“What in the world is happening here?” Grandma asks. “Police?”

“Mom, stay out of this,” my mother warns.

“I wanted to tell you,” I say to her in a low voice. “Lucky asked me to keep it secret, because he thought if you knew I was the one who threw the rock, that you’d be furious at me, and you’d make us leave town like before. I think—I think he was afraid we’d be separated again.”

“Winnie,” my grandmother says to my mother. “I’d like an explanation, please.”

Mom curses under her breath.