Charles joined Chloe on the veranda, aware that Malia was probably watching him through the glass, which troubled him more than he wanted to admit.

“Close the door,” Chloe said without turning; she knew who was behind her.

Charles closed it and joined her, looking out over the balcony. For a moment, they both stood there, saying nothing.

“Ms. Monet, I’m Charles—

“I know,” she said and squeezed his arm. “You’re not bad. ...