She didn’t know why she was thanking the woman. She was sure she would get a bill for it.

Natalie took her grandfather to Sunday brunch. It had been a tradition for as long as she could remember—Grandy, May Lin, Mom, and Natalie went to brunch together every Sunday, up until she moved to Archangel. If money was tight, it would be French toast and berry compote at Mama’s on Washington Square. If they were feeling more flush, they’d take the Geary bus to the buffet at Cliff House, an imposing concrete behemoth perched above the Pacific between Ocean Beach and the old Sutro Baths.

She used to love going to Ocean Beach, not just for the scary, crashing waves and the throaty roar of the surf, but for the fun they had, rain or shine. In fine weather, she’d run along the beach, and she and her mom would kick off their shoes and wade in the chilly surf. In stormy weather, they’d sit by the massive fireplace, drinking cups and cups of tea while playing Wild Card Rummy. Natalie and May Lin always hoarded their wild cards, while her mom and Grandy played them immediately. Because, Mom would explain, if you don’t play the wild card now, you might never get the chance.

They took a taxi to the Cliff House. Not because Natalie was feeling flush, but because she wanted a quiet, beautiful spot to have a serious conversation with her grandfather. Although the place had been updated, the views from the Terrace Room had not changed in decades.

Over fluffy omelets and brioche bread pudding smothered in blueberry compote, she laid out the situation for Andrew. He listened politely as she explained the back taxes, the overdue balloon payments, the looming bills, the needed repairs, and the dire cashflow situation.

Grandy accepted a refill of his coffee with a smile at the waiter. When he picked up his mug, his hand trembled so much that the coffee spilled. Natalie mopped it up with a napkin. “Are you all right?”

He glowered at the half-full mug. “Hardly. Staying in business has always been a challenge. Even when I had the typewriter shop, there were challenges. My father used to tell me how he scrimped and saved for ten years and then launched his apothecary business at the height of the Great Depression. Somehow, he survived.”

“I wish I remembered them better,” she said. “Great-Grandpa Julius and Granny Inga. He used to give me root beer barrel candies, and Granny had two canaries in a cage. I was so little when they passed away.” Natalie made herself pull the conversation back on track. “I went to see a lawyer about Mom’s will,” she said. “I never knew you were the sole owner of the building and bookstore.”