By the time Dad finally parks the car, my headache is gone, giving me time to take in my first real look at Boucreek. A man in his sixties stands at the porch railing while a girl who looks a few years older than me sits on the porch swing with a tablet in her lap. She glances up and puts her tablet aside when Dad cuts the engine. She stands and puts her hand on the man's shoulder. She says something, and he nods, but he never takes his eyes off the car.

Mẹ and Dad get out first. I force myself to unbuckle my seatbelt and follow them. Grandpa and the girl walk down the walkway to greet us. There's a moment of hesitation as Dad comes face-to-face with his dad. I glance between them, waiting for someone to do something. It feels like we all are. In the end, Dad takes a step forward and hugs Grandpa. The girl's eyes narrow ever so slightly, so I know I'm not the only one who notices the discomfort.

I'm sure Mẹ picks up on the tension, too, but she manages a smile and hugs Grandpa. "It's good to see you again, Everett."

Grandpa steps back with a smile. "It's good to see you, too, Thera. It's been too long." He looks at me, his expression softening. "And for some of us, it's been sixteen years too long." He steps towards me, opening his arms. It's not exactly a full invitation for a hug. The suggestion is there, but he can easily pass it off as a gesture towards me. "You must be Briar."

I nod, forcing a smile on my face. "It's great to finally meet you, Grandpa."

His eyes glisten with unshed tears. I don't know if I should feel bad that I'm not reacting the same way. But I think there's a different standard for grandfathers who haven't met their grandchildren compared to grandchildren who haven't met their grandfathers. But I'm still a little surprised when he changes the gesture to a full invitation and steps forward to hug me. I almost curl in on myself. I know we're related, but he's practically a stranger. Not to mention I kind of already know him from Dad's series.

Except he seems nothing like Hien and Hai's parents. So far.

I force myself to wrap my arms around him, counting to five before I step back. I almost wish I hadn't, not sure if I prefer the awkwardness of being embraced by someone who's practically a stranger or the awkwardness of no one knowing what to say after that.

We stare at each other for a moment, the slight breeze rustling the leaves above us. Dad's eyes dart around until they fall on the girl. He smiles at her. "Hey, Marlowe."

Marlowe nods at Dad. "Hey, Gareth."

Dad smirks. "No long-winded sentences for me this time about what a huge fan you are?"

Her face goes a light shade of pink to match the highlights in her auburn hair. She scrunches up her face. "That was three years ago. You can let it go." After a pause, she adds with a casual wave of her hand, "But yes, I am still a huge fan."

Grandpa smiles at her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "As you should be." He turns to Dad. "I'm sure you three need some rest after that long drive."

Mẹ nods. "That'd be nice."

Mẹ, Dad, and Grandpa move to the trunk of the car to grab our suitcases. I start to follow, but I pause when I notice Marlowe studying me. When she sees she has my attention, she smiles.

"Hey." She holds her hand out. "I'm Marlowe. My grandfather was good friends with yours."

I guess that explains why she's hanging around. I take her hand in mine. "I'm Briar."

"Nice to meet you." Marlowe pulls her hand back, slipping it into her back pocket. "When you're done unpacking, do you want me to show you around? Get to know the place?" She glances past me. "Unless your dad and grandpa want to do that."

I'm 110% sure I'd rather have Marlowe show me around than be in a car with Dad and Grandpa at the same time. Even with Mẹ as a buffer, that's way too much awkwardness on the first day. But if my parents make me... I'll just accuse them of being like Hien and Hai's parents later, but it's not like there's anything better to do anyway.

"Sure," I say. "Why not?"

I grab my duffle bag from the back of the car and follow the others inside, leaving my shoes at the door. Mẹ, Dad, and I follow Grandpa upstairs. I lag behind the others as I take in the pictures on the walls. A lot of them are family photos of my grandparents and Dad as he was growing up. Considering Mẹ is fully Vietnamese and Dad is half, it makes sense that I look more Vietnamese than White, but I still find it jarring to see exactly what I inherited from Bà Nội: my dark skin, thick hair, and maybe even my smile that borders on a smirk every now and then. It looks like the one thing I got from Grandpa is my brown eyes, but somehow, it seems like a defining connection since everyone always comments on how my eyes look like Dad's, especially in a certain light. Now I know for sure where they come from.

"Briar." I look up the stairs. My parents and grandpa are already at the landing. Dad nods down the hallway. "You coming?"

I nod, looking at the pictures one last time before walking up the rest of the stairs. Dad leads Mẹ into a seemingly random room, and I keep following Grandpa to a closed door at the very end of the hallway. When he opens it, I realize this must've been Dad's room when he lived here. There aren't decorations or anything, but the dead giveaway is the three empty bookcases lining the wall opposite the bed. Plus the window seat on the far wall and the desk in the far corner of the room make it seem like a pretentious teen writer's room.

"Do you need help unpacking?" Grandpa asks.

I drop the duffle bag by the end of the bed and turn to him, a smile already prepared on my face. "I think I'll be fine. You don't have to help."

He smiles, nodding. "You don't have to unpack now. We can head downstairs and talk. You can catch me up on the things I missed when you were growing up. And you can really meet Marlowe."

I nod and follow him back downstairs, letting my smile drop. When we reach the living room, everyone else is already there. My parents sit side-by-side on the couch while Marlowe sits on one of the armchairs. I sit next to my parents and Grandpa takes the other armchair. Maybe it's just me, but it feels like the moment he sits, a heaviness falls over the room. I glance at Dad to see if I'm imagining it. His frame is rigid, and he's not meeting anyone's eyes. Definitely not my imagination then.

Marlowe sits forward and starts asking me and my parents questions about ourselves. It breaks the ice enough for Grandpa to ask his own questions. Most of them are directed at me. A lot of standard things like favorite color (sunset pink), favorite time of day (either dawn or dusk), favorite hobby (reading), if I've been thinking about college now that I'll be a senior after this summer (yes), and what I'm going to study.

I shrug, tucking my feet beneath me. "That's complicated."

Marlowe laughs. "In other words, you don't know."

I nod, giving her a knowing look. "Yeah. Basically." I pick at a loose thread on the couch. "But I have time to figure it out."

"Are you the creative type like your dad?" Grandpa asks.

Before I can respond, Mẹ says, "She is, but she takes more after me in terms of creativity. She doesn't write, but she's a well-rounded performer. She can sing, dance, act, and play the guitar, violin, and piano."

"All past tense," I cut in. "I don't do any of that anymore." It's been about a year since I have.

Marlowe furrows her eyebrows. "Why?"

I shrug. "I just don't want to anymore."

It feels like everyone waits for an explanation, but I don't give one. I shouldn't have to. They don't need to understand. All they need to know is I don't perform anymore.

"So if you don't want to be a performer," Grandpa asks, "what do you want to do? Write like your dad?"

I snort. "No. I can't write. But if I did want to go into that industry, I could probably be an editor. I read all of Dad's drafts, including the final published one. And sometimes I catch more mistakes than his actual editor does."

Dad nods to confirm all that.

Grandpa sits forward. "But is that what you want to do?"

Why does he want to know so badly? It almost feels like how Dad described this conversation with Grandpa when he was my age. Just in the opposite direction.

I have to take a deep breath to keep my voice calm. "It wouldn't be a terrible job. And I can manage it."

"Maybe you can explore what you like to do this summer." Grandpa gestures at Marlowe. "Marlowe's going to school to study marketing, graphic design, and animation. Maybe she can show you what she does for A Quiet Café."

I blink. "What's that?"

Marlowe laughs at my expression. "A café Everett owns. It's based on your dad's series, and it's pretty popular."

Grandpa nods, his voice carefully controlled as he explains, "You can borrow books like a library, but you're allowed to annotate them and see other people's thoughts." His eyes flicker to Dad. "I thought it would be a good way to advertise Gareth's books."

It's hard for me to tell what Dad's thinking. For a moment, he has a distant look in his eyes as he meets Grandpa's gaze. But once his eyes refocus, he nods and glances around the room like he's looking for another way to react.

Marlowe clears her throat and sits forward with a smile. "We can show Briar and Thera since they haven't seen the walls. I painted the mural myself."

"We can go after closing," Grandpa suggests, his eyes still on Dad. "Most of the people that come are really big fans of your books, so it's probably better if we go when no one's there." Dad finally lets himself look back at Grandpa with a nod. There's a slight pause, but Grandpa quickly looks at me before it can get too awkward. "And you can work there this summer if you want to, Briar. Earn some money."

"Pretty chill job," Marlowe adds.

I nod. "Sure. Sounds like it could be fun." Good way to kill time while I'm here.

Grandpa smiles at me. "Great. You can start next week."

Marlowe gestures to me. "There's a piano there, too. I know you just said you don't play anymore, but your mom showed me some videos of some of your recitals. I think it's safe to say you'll get a lot of tips if you're bored and decide to play a song or two."

I glance at Mẹ. She smiles at me, but I don't bother returning it. I don't think acting will come into clutch when all I feel is the turmoil stirring in my chest right now. Not a shred of happiness there.

I look Marlowe in the eyes and say, "I don't play anymore, but my mom does, so she can play for tips or give piano lessons or something."

Mẹ and Dad exchange glances, but they don't say anything.

Grandpa does, though.

"Well," he says, "the piano is always there if you ever want to play something."

I blink, my eyes flickering to Dad. This is not at all how he made Grandpa out to be, and I don't know how to feel about it. At the most, I thought Grandpa would tell me I was stupid for ever wanting to be a performer. At the least, I thought he would ignore whatever interests I may have and give me dismissive looks if I ever mentioned it. But this... this brings on an entirely new dread than I prepared myself for this summer.

I don't know if Marlowe feels the tension, but she jumps to her feet, changing the subject. "In the meantime, I can show you around."

The corners of Dad's mouth turn up. "I wanted to show my daughter and wife around, Marlowe."

Marlowe makes a face at him, planting her hands on her hips. "I guess we can do it together." Her eyes flicker to Grandpa. "Plus Everett. He might know some old people places that we don't."

Grandpa rolls his eyes, but his expression softens. "Thanks, Marlowe."

She nods at him with a knowing look. She smooths her expression and turns to me. "So we going or what?"

I glance between Marlowe, Grandpa, and my parents. All their attention is on me. I guess it's my decision who should show me around. I don't think there's a point in all of them coming with me and Mẹ, but... Marlowe backed me into a corner with this one. And she clearly did it so Grandpa could spend some time with Dad.

"Yeah," I say, standing. "Let's go."

Should be interesting to see all the places Dad went to growing up. And all the places I could've gone to if things turned out differently. If someone was just a little more supportive like he happens to be right now.