Andrew shone a penlight into her eyes, and she flinched. “I thought Natalie would enjoy seeing the bird books,” he said.

“Oh, Grandy.” She stepped forward and put her hand on his arm. “It’s me. Natalie. You’re looking for something?”

“We’ve been searching for years,” he muttered, following her. “Papa was always looking for his books.”

“Papa. You mean your father, Julius.”

“After he lost his mother, after he lost everything, he still remembered those treasured pictures with all the birds.”

She could only imagine the wrenching trauma of seven-year-old Julius, alone and lost after the city’s deadly earthquake and fire.

“Everything all right?” Peach asked, ducking as he came through the low door.

She nodded, offering a fleeting smile. “He always seems to be searching for something.” If this was where old books had been stored, she thought, they’d probably been ruined by the damp air.

Using the flashlight on his phone, Peach inspected the cramped, dusty space. An old rake, a sack of fertilizer, plant pots in a lopsided stack. She could see a small army of spiders hanging in the corner, their webs like trapeze nets, and the sight made her shudder. “Oh my God,” she said, pulling her grandfather toward the door. “I’m terrified of spiders. Let’s get out of here.”

“What do you suppose that is?” Peach asked, aiming the beam at an old wood-and-metal box.

“Do you recognize it?” she asked her grandfather.

He frowned and shook his head. Shadows from the doorway flickered across his face. Natalie felt the ghost of a cobweb brush her cheek and shuddered again. “Come on inside, Grandy,” she said. “I’ll fix you a coffee to drink while you wait for Charlie. Now, watch your head.” Taking his hand, she steadied him as they stepped outside.

Grandy looked around the garden. “We used to have an apple tree. I liked to climb it and peer over the fence at the neighbors. At some point, it was cut down. I believe it had some sort of disease.”

“Want me to grab this box?” asked Peach.

“Yes, bring it inside,” she said.

“No problem.”

Even though Peach was here for work, he already seemed like a friend to her. Looking after Grandy and the shop and the building felt overwhelming sometimes—most of the time—and she appreciated Peach’s calm, matter-of-fact demeanor.

Back inside, she made cortados for herself and Grandy, and an Americano for Peach. With all the work that had to be done on the building, he was a constant presence, and she relied on him more than she was willing to admit. He had a calm sort of energy, the bearing of a man who knew what had to be done and was doing it, simply and competently.