“We go on a grand adventure every time we open a book.” Mom handed her a padded envelope from a pile of mail on the counter. “The new Judy Blume book just came in from the publisher, and you can have the first copy.”

Natalie eagerly snatched it up. “I can’t wait to read it,” she declared. “But reading a book is not the same as a vacation, and you know it.”

“If you’re talking about flying to Hawaii or Paris, then you’re right. But just because we can’t afford fancy trips doesn’t make us poor. Do you have homework?”

“I had math, but I did it during recess.”

“You’re supposed to play during recess.”

“I don’t like playing with kids who call me poor.”

Mom quirked her brow. “I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t want that, either. I’m glad your homework is done. We’ve got plans for tonight.”

“Really? What plans?”

Mom grinned at her. “We’re going to China. How’s that for travel?” She motioned Natalie to the office cubby in the stockroom and grabbed a granola bar from a box on the shelf. “May Lin’s taking us to Heavenly Days.”

Their favorite restaurant in all Chinatown. “Can I get the Warrior Bowl?”

“Sure.” Her mother tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Listen, we have our health, and a roof over our heads, food to eat, and books to read. We’re doing okay, kiddo.”

Natalie felt deflated by her mother’s logic. It was the kind of thing you couldn’t argue with or if you tried, you’d seem silly. “Where’s Grandy?” she asked.

“In the basement, puttering around,” Mom said. “Always looking for his father’s hidden treasure.”

It was a family joke that Grandy’s father, old Julius Harper, believed there was treasure in the Sunrose Building. According to Grandy, Julius’s mother had hidden something, and then she’d died in the 1906 earthquake and Julius went to an orphanage and the treasure was lost forever. Grandy had grown up hearing stories about it, but they were just that—stories. Not real like her friends’ vacation trips to places like Manhattan and Mexico.

The bell jingled, and Mom went quickly to the front. “Hi there. Can I help you?”

The customer was a guy with a ponytail and a concert T-shirt. In the olden days, Grandy would have called him a hippie. “Thanks. Taking a look around,” he said. “I just finished The Things They Carried, and my brain needs to take a breather.”

“I hear you,” Mom agreed. “It’s like wading through a maze. Maybe you’d like a more straightforward narrative? Here’s our fiction table.”

“Anything you’d recommend?” the guy asked.