“What’s your sign?”
“My birthday’s September twenty-seventh.”
“Libra. An air sign,” she said. “Interesting.”
“Is that—good?” Most of what I knew of constellations had to do with finding them in the sky, and not particularly even the twelve of the zodiac.
“Leo’s a fire sign,” she said. “But I think that’s a good match.”
“Who’s Leo?”
Lily looked appalled; one of the other triplets smirked, and the other—dare I say it—cackled.
“Never mind them,” Shira said from across the table. “I don’t understand what they’re saying half the time.”
“She still might know,” Lily said. “We have a meteor showeranda comet coming up. How are those going to affect our astrological charts?”
“Um,” I said. “Hopefully not at all?”
Lily looked very disappointed in me.
“It’s interesting, though,” I said, feeling like I needed to offer something. “Meteor showers happen when the debris from a comet’s trail burns up in our atmosphere, but it’s not super common to see a meteor shower and its parent comet at the same time. But the Arborids come from Gibson’s comet, and we’ll see them close together, so that’s pretty cool.”
“But is it good or bad?” Lily asked.
“Um. I guess a long time ago, people thought meteors were good signs.” I recalled Dad’s stories from when I was a kid. “Gods listening to mortals, peeking down on us from the heavens. But, uh, I think comets were bad. Death of kings. I think a Chinese emperor once abdicated?”
“I’m not abdicating,” one of Lily’s sisters said.
“You don’t have a throne,” the other said.
I polished off my food, keeping my eyes peeled for both Dad and Cora. I spotted my boss first and felt a surge of relief that she’d come. She stood next to another woman, both of them clutching their drinks like children clutching blankies and trading laughing whispers. I’d never seen Cora in anything besides leggings or jeans, but today she’d put on a royal-blue jumpsuit and pulled her hair up into a braided high bun.
I made my way over. “Cora! Hi! You made it.”
“Hey, Jordan.” She gestured to the woman next to her. “This is my friend Bao, who’s visiting from Boston for the weekend.”
“Oh good.” Bao grinned at me. “I was beginning to think we’d gate-crashed and Cora didn’t want to own up to it.”
“No, no, definitely a real party. I mean, a real invite.” I felt unexpectedly nervous and awkward. Both these women seemed so much cooler than everyone else. Obviously I’d thought Cora was cool before, but in a nerdy-scientist way. Seeing her all glammed up made me wonder if I’d bitten off more than I could chew with this matchmaking.
Bao asked me the usual questions adults did about college and majors, and I asked her what she’d seen on Nantucket so far. I tried to keep my eyes politely on hers instead of scanning constantly for Dad. Wherewashe?
Finally, I caught sight of him on the other side of the lawn. He’d worn one of his blue-checked shirts, which meant he was Making an Effort. He still wore socks with his sandals, though. The blight of my life.
Should I steal all his socks for the duration of the summer?
“Dad!” I waved at him, too wildly to be cool, but desperatetimes. “Dad!” Two parentally aged men turned in my direction. Oy. “Tony!”
Dad’s eyes focused on me, surprised, then happy. He made his way across the lawn. I studied him. His shirt wasn’t too wrinkled, and he’d clearly bothered to comb his hair. “Dad, you remember Dr. Bradley? And this is her friend Bao.”
“Nice to meet you,” Dad said politely, and, “Nice to see you again. Are you enjoying the party?”
They made affirmative noises.
All right, launching Conversational Gambit #1. “Areyou?” I asked Dad. “Or are you still too traumatized by last night?” To the women I said, “The Red Sox game.”
Bao looked unmoved—a woman after my own heart—while Cora grimaced sympathetically. “You’re doing better than we are. I’m from Minneapolis.”
