He looked inordinately pleased. “Really?”
“Yes! Obviously!” I hadn’t planned my strategy out this far, so I blurted, “You should invite Cora, too.”
Dad froze.
“She’d love it,” I forged on. “Think how well we’ll be able to see the meteor shower.”
Dad looked torn. “Well—I wouldn’t want to overstep. But if you think she’d be interested…”
“Who wouldn’t be? A free cruise? I mean, as long as the rooms aren’t historically accurate.”
Dad smiled. “No, the inside is modern. Gary was only willing to forgo so much.”
“Great. Ask her.”
“Maybe you should ask—”
“No,” I said firmly. “It’s a better, more real invite if it comes from you.”
***
As it turned out, Dad had the opportunity to ask Cora the next day. I’d confirmed she’d be coming to a charity beach barbecue, and so I told Dad to join me and the rest of the Barbanel clan there.
Even though the days were routinely in the eighties, with hot, humid air keeping my hair in a decade to match the temperature, I knew better than to go to the beach without a sweater. I slung one over my shoulder as we joined a dozen people spread out over the sand, their colorful blankets and extensive coolers creating a city on the beach. A folk band had set up. Restaurant tents served bite-size burgers, caprese skewers, fruit salads filled with plump,gleaming berries. I tried a surprisingly delicious cucumber and grilled plum salad and summer squash with pesto.
“Do you remember when we boarded the ferry, and all those people asked about the arugula on your pizza?” I said to Ethan as we sat at a picnic table, licking strawberry lemonade popsicles.
“Oh, yeah. That was kind of weird.”
“Right? Itwasweird. Why did all those strangers talk to you!”
“I guess they were really baffled by the arugula.” He grinned. “I was busy trying to think of how to get the hot girl nearby to notice me.”
“Oh?” I bit back a smirk. “What was your plan?”
“Aim my hot presence in her general direction. Luckily, it worked.”
“I’m pretty sure you said, ‘I want to show you something.’ ”
“In retrospect, not my best work. Ten out of ten results, though.”
When Cora arrived, Dad joined her circle fairly quickly. I squeezed Ethan’s bicep. “My god, do you see that? They’re interacting. I didn’t even manipulate them this time.”
“Ow,” Ethan said. “Didn’t you tell your dad he had to ask her about the boat?”
I snorted. “Please, he’s not going to until I make him.”
We went over to join them, and sure enough, they were discussing a book they’d both read. Then mutual friends they had at the Media Lab, then techniques for cooking eggplant. Honestly, they weren’t getting anywhere.
Eventually, Cora turned to me and Ethan. “How are you guys liking the barbecue?”
“It’s great,” I said, and, in a not particularly smooth transition, “Ethan was telling me about a really cool trip next week. Dad has this friend who built a replica of a nineteenth-century sailing vessel. We’re going to go out on it for a couple of nights.”
“Sounds fun,” Cora said politely.
“Yeah. We’ll be able to see the Arborids on the open water. They’re probably really clear, with no light around.” I gave Dad a pointed look. Really, was he going to make me do this whole thing myself?
Dad took a deep breath and turned toward Cora. But somehow—how?—he managed to trip over his own feet. In motion slowed by the sheer power of my horror, he lost his grip on his plate. It flipped in the air, food majestically staying affixed to it, before landing with a loud, wetsplaton the beach, the crema-drenched sweet potato and corn salad flying everywhere, halted in their airborne escape by the nearest object.
