Her phone went off, and Peach saw a name and a picture flash on the screen—Trevor Dashwood.

“Excuse me,” she said, grabbing the phone and stepping away from the table. “I need to take this.” She ducked into the back office, but the phone was on speaker and he could hear their conversation. He pretended not to.

“About Friday night,” Trevor said. “Do you like boating?”

“Depends on the boat,” she said. “And the weather.”

“Well, I can assure you the boat is seaworthy, and the forecast is good for sunset. Can you get away?”

The boat is seaworthy, Peach grumbled inwardly. Tell me more, pretty boy. There was something phony about this guy. Just a hunch Peach had. He’d been raised by a pair of fraudsters. He was tuned in to the signs. Maybe. On the other hand, could be he just envied the guy for asking Natalie Harper out on a date.

“When I was a young man, I married the wrong woman,” Andrew said out of the blue, distracting Peach from his eavesdropping.

“Sorry, how’s that?”

“I had a terrible heartbreak. My one true love was forbidden to see me. Her parents were very strict Chinese immigrants, and they wouldn’t hear of her associating with a gweilo. In my disappointment, I had an impulsive love affair with a woman I scarcely knew, and in almost no time at all, she was pregnant. The marriage was my greatest mistake, yet it resulted in my greatest achievement—my daughter, Blythe.”

“I like your way of looking at it,” Peach said. “I wouldn’t trade Dorothy for the world. Hell, she is my world.”

“Of course she is. But it’s the nature—no, the duty—of a child to grow up and leave you. Doesn’t seem fair, does it? The person you love most in the world is destined to leave you and break your heart.”

“Well, when you put it that way, it’s even more depressing.” Peach finished his coffee and rinsed the mug. “And on that note, I’d best get to work.” He hung his mug on a hook and briefly gripped Andrew’s shoulder. “I’m sure sorry about your daughter, man. I wish I’d had a chance to meet her.”

“You will,” Andrew said vaguely, staring down at the crossword puzzle as if it were in Mandarin. “Perhaps you will.”