We moved to the next stall, and I again cut the binding on the hay and began to spread it out. “You have the same yearning for knowledge that your grandfather had,” she said. “And the same determination. The same work ethic. It’s nothing at all to be embarrassed about, Tuck. It will open doors for you, in the same way it did for him. So many lack the grit and the heart to carry forth the legacy of those who came before them. Like your uncle, for instance,” she murmured, her forehead knitting the way it always did when she mentioned her brother. But she took a deep breath, her lips curving as she looked at me. “But not you. If your grandfather was alive, he’d be so proud.”

“Thank you, Mom.” I felt a wash of warmth, her words giving me renewed energy as I picked up the speed of my work. I liked knowing she thought Grandpa Castañeda would be proud of me.

“Follow in his footsteps,” she told me. “But also, forge your own. If anyone is capable, it’s you, my smart boy.”

“I will, Mom.”

She smiled, stepping closer and ruffling my hair. “I know you will.” She turned, heading for the door. “And, Tuck,” she called, nodding to the pitchfork in my hands. “Never lose your sense of decency. It’s your badge of honor.” She shot me a wink, but her expression faltered as she began to turn, stumbling, catching herself, and then stumbling again.

“Mom?” I dropped the tool, rushing toward her as she fell. “Mom!” I yelled, barely catching her before she hit the ground. Panic jolted my system, my arms trembling as I held her. “Dad!” I called through the open door. “Dad! Somebody, help!”

chapter four

Tuck

Ten Days Ago

“You’re home early,” my uncle said through a mouthful of turkey sandwich, setting it back down on the plate in front of him.

“I got let go.” I tossed the apron I’d forgotten to leave behind over the kitchen chair. I’d return it tomorrow to the restaurant. Or maybe I wouldn’t. What was another theft on my record, especially one that wouldn’t be officially reported? They’d obviously expected me to steal something. Why disappoint them?

My uncle was studying me casually. “I told you—you should have disclosed your record.”

I fell into the chair with a sigh. “Yeah. Well.” I felt defeated, no energy left in my body to do much of anything, not even form a meaningful sentence. Alfonso obviously guessed why I’d been fired anyway, so why use a bunch of words to explain? Yeah, I should have been honest about my criminal record, but recent history had taught me that didn’t go well when attempting to find employment, and so I’d lied. And I’d hoped that, if they did check, they’d let it slide that their dishwasher had served time.