“Business.”
“Cool.” A man of few words. At least we weren’t talking about the weather. “What do you want to do while you’re on Nantucket?”
“I don’t know. I don’t really know anything about the island.”
“There’s a ton to do!” I beamed at him as we walked down the hall, then my smile fell away. “Well, since it’s winter, a lot of things are closed for the season. But the island is gorgeous. And there’s still some restaurants open and walks you can go on.” I swallowed. Okay. It wasokayto put myself out there; no one would be insulted by this offer. “I’d be happy to show you around.”
He smiled back. “Thank you.”
Wow. I mightshow Isaac around.I wanted to shriek and throw myself on my bed and pant until I’d recovered the breath currently fleeing my body. Instead, I paused at the door to his room. “This is you. The bathroom’s at the end of the hall.”
“Thanks.”
“Great.” I smiled, a touch maniacally, and walked away.
I detoured to my room, where I did throw myself onto my bed and screamed into my pillow. Oh my god. I’ddoneit. I’d spokento Isaac, and I hadn’t been sharp or rude or anything other than nice and polite, and I’d offered to play tour guide, and he’dsmiledat me. I could do this.
I wanted to tell Tyler. I wanted him to be impressed by how well I’d done. Grabbing my phone, I texted him:Managed to behave like a human being.
I waited, buzzing with excitement, but it took him a solid three minutes to respond.Cool.
I frowned, unsatisfied. But what had I wanted? Follow-up questions, an exclamation point? Tyler didn’tactuallycare about the details of my flirting—he was giving advice per our bargain. And he’d just spent half a day with me; I shouldn’t expect more from him.
I had to get ahold of myself. Taking a breath, I moved to the vanity and began retouching my makeup. This, I had control over, and the actions soothed me. I strengthened my eyeliner and redid my lipstick, plastered over a zit and brushed on some bronzer. “You can do this,” I told my reflection. “You’re doing great.”
I headed downstairs and was immediately drafted into dinner duty. The adults had perfected a masterful scam: they never needed to cook at Golden Doors as long as they could corral their offspring into the great room. They relaxed on the couches and armchairs, trying out Aunt Liz’s latest Hanukkah cocktail, a chocolate drink with a piece of gelt on the rim.
Across the counter from me, Oliver and Miriam choppedonions, peppers, cucumbers, and tomatoes for a horiatiki salad, while I attempted to master a cheesy-mustardy cauliflower side dish, modified from a Yotam Ottolenghi cookbook.
“Can I help?”
Isaac appeared next to me, and my heart performed a series of Olympic-worthy acrobatics. “Sure. We can always use more hands.”
It was actually more work to tell Isaac what to do than to do it myself, but I didn’t mind. “If you measure the curry, cumin seeds, and mustard powder into a bowl, we can add it to the sauce along with this cheese.” I nodded at the cheddar block I’d picked up to grate.
“Cool.” He pulled the curry toward himself and picked up the measuring spoons. “How much?”
“Actually—um—” A stroke of sheer brilliance occurred to me, blindingly bright. “What’s your number? I’ll text you the recipe.”
And just like that, Isaac Lehrer was in my phone.
David came over as we brought the sauce to a simmer. He leaned against the island with extra flair, displaying his self-proclaimed good side in Isaac’s direction. “Hey, Isaac.”
“Hey,” Isaac said. “Uh—Dave, right?”
“Right,” David said, though no one called him Dave on pain of death. “I see you’ve already been put to work.”
“It’s no problem.” Isaac paused his stirring as I added the steamed cauliflower to the pot, where it took on the golden yellow of mustard and curry. “I like cooking.”
“Really?” I said. “Me too!”
“Oh yes, Shira isquitethe cook.” David popped a crumb of cheddar in his mouth, smirking as I narrowed my eyes at him. I only cooked on Nantucket, as David knew; otherwise, my parents and I ate Sweetgreen or sushi for dinner at least four times a week.
Eventually everything had been cooked and plated, the tables set, the water and wine poured. We sat, surrounded by Greek salad with slabs of feta cheese, fresh-baked sourdough, roasted sweet potatoes with figs, and the cauliflower dish Isaac and I had labored over. I glanced at Noah, expecting him to make a grab at the candle lighting tonight or at least to fight with the other boys and Miriam about it.
Instead, all the older cousins looked at me, then Noah’s eyes flicked toward Isaac, who’d joined our table.
Was I supposed to ask—Isaac?—if he wanted to light them? Why couldn’t one ofthemask? Why did I have to be the de facto host? I mean, I was bossy and in charge, yes, but I’d rather one of them asked, so it didn’t look like I was pandering.
