Tuck had turned inward as Tuck was wont to do. And then things had taken another sharp turn when his father announced he was selling Honey Hill Farm. That’s when the fighting started, the shouting matches we could hear all the way on our property. Two and a half years after Mariana’s death, Mr. Mattice moved to Florida and Tuck—almost eighteen—chose to stay in California with his uncle. He’d remained somewhat close to me, distance-wise, but it might have been a million miles away. Any friendship that had remained between us at the time was suddenly and completely over.

My hand dropped from where I’d been adjusting one of the false lash strips as Louisa came in the room, smiling at me. I pointed to the phone. My mom, I mouthed. She nodded, bringing a finger to her lips. Then, picking up the brush, she began running it through my hair.

My mother let out a shaky exhale as though for a moment, she too had traveled back and took in a stale breath of that sadness-tinged air. “Tuck didn’t only lose his mom, Em. He lost his home too, and his father as well.”

For a moment, I saw Tuck as he’d been. Quiet, angry, closed-off. I’d tried to be his friend, but he’d turned away from me completely. “He didn’t lose his home. His father made the choice to sell it and who could blame him? Everything in the area was changing and moving on. You know that, Mom.” I wasn’t trying to rub it in, but my mom and dad had been one of a handful of owners who had hung on for dear life to the orchards that were becoming a thing of the past in the San Fernando Valley, and instead of selling for top dollar and taking a profit, now they were barely making ends meet. In my estimation, it had been Mr. Mattice who’d made the wise choice at the right time. I’d offered to move my parents to LA more than once, but they’d consistently declined, preferring instead to hang on to a dying way of life. “And Tuck didn’t lose his father either,” I went on, a new energy to my words. “It was his bitterness that cost him that relationship. Tuck became a total asshole after Mariana died.” Louisa sprayed my hair and used the curling iron to form loose curls.

“Oh, Em. You’re being cold. It’s far more complicated than that, and you know it.”

I sighed, watching as Louisa moved quickly around my head, wielding the hot iron like the professional she was. My mom was right. Tuck had suffered a devastating life blow. But then he’d made choices that ruined his future, finally landing himself in prison. And that was on him.