The whole thing had seemed like such a no-brainer a couple years back: buy up the crummy old houses in Willard Park, which no one who could afford the land would possibly want to live in—or so he thought—and build new houses, fresh houses, houses with modern amenities like central air. Some of the little shacks in town still had window units, for God’s sake! He imagined great rooms instead of splintery porches, home gyms where paneled rec rooms now moldered.

His vision went further. He pictured an expanded shopping district, a real business zone complete with cafés and boutiques and a promenade by the creek. A thriving Willard Park downtown would bring in income so the town could show those monthly movies in a real movie theater instead of on a screen in the town hall basement. They could hand out trophies to the little kids on the soccer team instead of ribbons, and have the potlucks catered.

Didn’t Ted and Lucy and the other old granola heads see? He wanted what they wanted: a comfortable, livable town near the city, somewhere beautiful, somewhere safe. But it was never going to happen if his houses didn’t sell. He threw the remote. It bumped off the front of a speaker and landed on the floor with a clatter. He was stuck watching an aging blonde with big teeth trying to sell a diamond necklace.

He felt an urge to apologize to Ted for killing his kid’s tree. He tried to think of what to say. “Hey, dude, I’m sorry for cutting . . .” “You know, pal, I didn’t intend . . .” Words were so fraught. Anything that might be construed as an admission might bring on a lawsuit—he’d been there before. So was it better to say nothing? To just feel like crap? He smacked his hand on the couch in frustration, startling Rex. “Hey, bud. I’m sorry.” Nick scratched the dog’s chin, right where he liked it, making Rex close his eyes and lean his face into Nick’s hand. He heard feet on the stairs. “Hey, Lindy-ba-bindy.” His fellow night owl.

“You missed my game.”

“I’m sorry, Chicken Little.”

“You never come. You go to all of Jakey’s games.”

“Not true,” Nick said, though it wouldn’t do any good. She still hadn’t forgiven them for knocking her off her single-child throne.

“I scored both our points.”

“You’re pretty good for a girl.” He smiled, shielding his face, ready to be pummeled with a pillow.

She pinched his arm instead.

“Ouch,” he said.

“Don’t be a baby.”

“I’m going to get one of those necklaces for Mom.” He nodded toward the screen.

“That’s crap, Daddy. Can’t you tell?”

“Get the remote, will you, Lin?”

“You get it.”

“Come on. I’m an old man.”