Wow, brilliant. I should get a Pulitzer in small talk.
His mouth twitched. “The plan is econ for undergrad, then business school.”
Literally all I knew about business school came from my older cousin Sarah, in the form of her disdain for the business school bros she met via Tinder. “So you want to run a business?”
“It’s kind of the deal.”
It took a minute to click. “Oh.You mean—your family’s company?”
He nodded shortly.
“Huh.” I tried to process this. My life plan had no more details than 1) get into college, 2) graduate from college, 3) get a job, 4) support parents in their old age (and my brother, if necessary). “You want to work at Barbanel?”
“‘Want’ doesn’t come into it. I have to.”
“I mean, you don’thave tohave to.”
He did not look amused.
I slowly put the pieces together. Edward Barbanel, chairman of the board, inherited Barbanel from his father, and grew it into the empire it was today. Harry Barbanel, Noah’s father, was currently CEO. I blinked. “They don’t expect you to...”
He raised his brows.
I laughed a little nervously. “I mean, you don’thaveto take over a giant firm if you don’t want to.”
“Someone does.”
“Don’t you have any cousins? Or siblings?”
“No siblings.” He tossed back the rest of his coffee. “Shira’s the closest in age to me, so she’s kind of like a little sister. She wants to study sea turtles.”
“Sea turtles.”
“In Ecuador. They’re endangered.”
I digested the sea turtle news for a moment. Poor sea turtles. “Okay, well, what about your other cousins?”
“None seem interested.”
“Youdon’t seem interested. Why’s it fall on you? Are you, like, the oldest son’s oldest son or something?”
Embarrassment flickered across his face.
Oh my god. “That’s ridiculous. And incredibly unfair. I mean, to you, yes, but also, what about everyone else?”
He looked away, then back, and spoke firmly. “So. What do you want to study?”
Fair, I’d been being pushy. “I want to be a historian, but...”
“But what?”
“Would it help anyone? Or are historians just modern-day Cassandras, doomed to cry warnings and be ignored?”
He looked surprised. “Do you think so?”
“Well, I think historians are important, but I also feel like they keep saying, ‘Hey, this is how dictatorships start,’ and everyone’s like, ‘Cool, got it, let’s ignore you.’ So does being a historian help? What helps?” I gestured at him. “I mean, besides being wealthy and directing your wealth in useful ways.”
“Here you go.” The waitress reappeared at our table, cheerful and sunny. “Breakfast burrito and pancakes.”
