She looked expectantly at him over her glasses.

The words Rio really wanted to say remained stuck in his throat. That he hadn’t come here to have fun or go shopping, and he most definitely hadn’t come here to spend time with someone who hadn’t even been part of his life when he’d needed her the most.

Luckily his grandmother was distracted by the entrance of a long-haired white cat with a black patch of fur over its left eye who announced its presence with a plaintive meow.

“Pirate! There you are! Would you like to meet our guest?”

The cat didn’t seem particularly bothered about getting to know Rio, but nevertheless something in his chest softened. He’d always wanted a pet—even just a hamster—but the apartment rules had forbidden it. He leaned down to stroke the cat behind its ears and was rewarded with a loud purr.

“This is my grandson, Rio. He’s come all the way from London to stay with us for a vacation. Do you want to say hello?”

Rio wasn’t sure if it was the silly voice she used to speak to Pirate—the kind grown-ups put on for babies—or the fact that he was exhausted after a twelve-hour plane journey, or how she used the American word for holiday. Maybe it was everything. Either way, the words burst out of his chest before he could stop them. “It’s not a vacation! I’m not here for fun! I’m only here because I have to be!”

Fran opened and then closed her mouth. Rio thought she was going to say something, but she just shooed Pirate off the table and then busied herself with removing strands of white fur from her jumpsuit.

The rest of the meal passed in silence.

When it was time for bed, Rio followed his grandmother up a flight of rickety wooden stairs, where even through the walls he could hear the ocean. After pointing out the main bathroom—which had the hugest shower he’d ever seen and could probably fit at least two elephants—she led him up some more stairs to the very top of the house.

“Here’s your room,” she said, pushing open the door.

It was a large, vaulted attic space, and Rio’s eyes immediately feasted on the double bed—much larger than his own tiny bed back home. There was a rectangular-shaped window, hidden by dark blue vertical blinds, and the space smelled clean and fresh and ever so slightly of disinfectant.

It was a peaceful room, he decided instinctively. It had a warm, comforting, familiar feel. And there wasn’t a single car, bus, or motorcycle noise. All he could hear was the wash of the sea.

Expecting his grandmother to just disappear, he was surprised to notice she was still there, hovering indecisively in the doorway. Rio placed his suitcase on the bed. Snapping open the clasp, he recoiled from the scent of ginger that wafted out from the cookies his mom had packed. The smell of them so sharp in the air, it almost took his breath away.