After the trouble with Roger, after Andrea’s family said it was probably best for Andrea to leave for a while, Jerry called her directly. “Come to Raisin Beach,” he’d said. “Bring the kid. Susan and I would love to see you—and Flora’s still here.” Flora was his daughter; she was a few years older than Andrea, and they’d never really interacted, but she had a child around Arthur’s age. “And hey, maybe I can even give you a little legal advice, for old time’s sake,” Jerry had added meaningfully.

Of course, there was a lot Jerry hadn’t planned for. She could still see the surprise on Jerry’s face when she showed up not as the young man he’d known but as Andrea. But Jerry had rolled with it. He’d helped her legally change her name and made sure all the paperwork was in order. His wife, Susan, doted on Arthur. Flora, the daughter, ended up moving her family up the coast shortly after the economy tanked, so Andrea never really got to know her or her daughter, but it was nice to have Jerry and Susan around.

Still, it worried her slightly that a Silver Swans mom also knew Jerry. Then again, he was good at keeping secrets.

She rounded out of the bedroom, past the big kitchen with the large, splashy chandelier, past the small office where she worked on her blog, and past the full wall of windows that looked out to a view of the cliffs and the ocean. The sky was gray this morning, and the ocean was a subdued navy, but they had a good chance of spotting dolphins at this time of day.

The TV was on in the living room. A 1990s children’s program played; superhero characters in brightly colored unitards zoomed through the air. Arthur stood in front of the screen, waving his skinny arms in ninja poses. Andrea smiled groggily. It was incredible how energetic he could be at such an early hour.

There was a flash at the window, and she looked up as the Blue Iguana Landscaping truck pulled to the curb. “Arthur,” she murmured. “Reginald’s here!”

Arthur brightened. He ran to the window, watching as Reginald Tucker, the landscaper, unpacked his leaf blower and tricked-out mower. “Can I tell him about my new friends at school?” he exclaimed. “Johnny and King?”

“You can say hi,” Andrea permitted. “Ask him if he wants some coffee.”

Arthur whooped and threw open the door. Reginald—never Reggie, he’d made that clear when they met—set down his rake and beamed. Arthur was filling him in on his new adventures. He’d glommed to the landscaper the moment they met. “King?” she could hear Reginald say. “Whoa, you have a friend named King?”

Andrea had had the same reaction. Who named their kid King?