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Jean had worked in enough bars to recognize the early stages of a grown-man meltdown.

“I can’t go out there and admit I failed you and your mother.

And all the other Pikes.” Charlie’s father kissed the tips of two fingers before pointing them at one of the framed black-and-white photos on the wall.

“You too, Mugsy. And everyone else who works for us. The distributors. Warehouse employees. Truck drivers. Mailroom staff. The whole town—”

Jean tuned out the rest of the self-pity spiral. When Mr. Pike paused to draw in a shuddering breath, she tried to pump the brakes. “Maybe it’s not the end of the world. Sometimes a shitty turn of events can open new possibilities.”

“Like a breakup leading you to an amazing physical and spiritual connection you can’t get out of your head,” Adriana suggested.

“Or realizing you only think you want to murder someone because you’re actually obsessed with them,” Jean said. Charlie’s whole body jerked when he realized she was talking about him.

“And getting a chance to tell someone that you never meant you were settling for them because they’re first best. Not second. The most best person ever, as far as you’re concerned.” Charlie hoped that that was enough superlatives to get his point across to Jean.

“And I will finally have time to enjoy my yacht,” Mr. Koenig volunteered.

“Do you hear that, dear?” Mrs. Pike cupped a hand to her ear. “He’s going sailing! I’ve always wanted to take a river cruise.”

“Have you ever seen moonlight on the Danube?” Euro Daddy replied. All he needed was a rose between his teeth to complete the effect.

“I haven’t.” Mrs. Pike gave a girlish giggle. “How big is your yacht?”

That got her husband’s attention. “Sandy!”

“What? I’m sure he has room for both of us.”

Mr. Pike sagged in his chair. “We can’t just walk away.”

“I’m tired. You’re tired. Charlie wants to go to grad school.” His wife shrugged. “We had a great run.”

Mr. Pike’s mouth fell open. “But who am I if there’s no Pike’s?”

One of the random tidbits Jean remembered from her college Intro to Psych class was that babies were easy to mess with because as soon as you moved a toy out of sight, they assumed it no longer existed. Maybe that was how men thought about their jobs. Or at least men like Charlie’s father.

“Think of it more like shedding a skin,” Charlie said, stroking Snake Emma. “Maybe Pike’s isn’t ending so much as taking on a new form. Instead of beer, we could make herbal elixirs.”

“Are you talking about pot, son?” Mr. Pike looked aghast.

“No, Dad. Mugsy’s teas.” He gestured at Mugsy, who had been startled out of her resting Don’t Try Me face. “Maybe it’s our turn to support her. We have the equipment, the network… all that stuff.”

Mugsy shook her head. “I’m not ready, Charlie.”

“You won’t know until you try.”

Jean could tell from his tone that Charlie was parroting back advice his former babysitter had given him, probably more than once.

“I’ll invest in you,” he assured her, excitement giving way to a frown. “Most of my money is tied up in company stock, but I could transfer my shares to you!”

Her scowl returned in full force. “I’m not taking your inheritance, Charlie.”

“Consider it a loan. Or a rental. How much money do you have on you?”

“About ten bucks,” she said, like that settled it.

“Great.” Charlie looked around the room. “Anyone have change for a ten?”

“Do you take Venmo?” Adriana asked Mugsy. “I’d love to invest in your company.”

Human Emma cleared her throat. “Perhaps you’d prefer a partner with industry experience?”

Charlie glanced between them, clearly not wanting to get in the middle. (Unlike Jean, who hoped the soap opera would play on.) “My advisor thinks I can get a fellowship. For grad school. Tuition and a stipend. I don’t need much more than that.”

“Because you’re a superstar,” Jean told him, enjoying the resulting blush.

“An intellectual superstar,” Emma Koenig pointed out. “Which is the preferable kind.”

Meow , Jean thought.

“We can be regular people together.” Charlie turned to Jean with a question in his eyes. “But not normal, ” he added, like that might be a sticking point.

“Better to have realistic goals,” she agreed.

Mr. Pike still looked lost. “This is a lot of change.”

It occurred to Jean that he might be more like his son than either of them realized.

“Not really.” Charlie’s voice was gentle. “It’ll still be a family business. Does it matter whose name is on a bottle or a building?”

Jean’s eyes felt suspiciously damp. Maybe there was hope for privileged white men after all—or at least this one.

“To everything, there is a season,” Mrs. Pike agreed, finger-brushing her husband’s hair back to a semblance of order. “And for us, this is the season of letting go of the past… and going on a European cruise.”

Adriana looked at the older couple with a trace of wistfulness before sneaking a glance at Mugsy. “Should I tell my crew to pack it in, or do you want us to stay?”

It was evident to everyone (with the possible exception of Charlie’s dad) that she was talking about more than the concert. Silent Storm, Jean thought. Bringing all the girls to the yard .

Mr. Pike stood, accepting his wife’s outstretched hand. “Let’s go out there with our heads held high. Make it a going away party.”

While the rest of the group headed for the patio doors, Jean pulled Charlie deeper into the house. In the dark and deserted hallway, she pinned him against the wall.

“Other people’s lives are so messy,” she said, kissing his collarbone.

“Yes,” he agreed, pulling her closer.

“They freak out and fly off the handle at the first sign of trouble.”

Charlie made a wordless noise of assent as her fingers crept under his shirt and stroked up his sides, not skipping any of the ticklish spots.

There were a million things Jean wanted to ask him, about grad school and where they were going and how much he loved her, but first she had a more pressing question.

“Are you going to introduce me to your snake?”

He was close enough for her to feel him swallow. “I’d love to.”

There was a very Charlie pause. Jean was pretty sure she could hear the wheels in his wonderful brain whirring, before he asked, “Which one?”