I hoped Ethan’s family would be more appreciative of how hard Ethan worked after hearing about Dad’s extensive levels of research.
As the salad plates were cleared and servers started their elaborate dance of delivering the main courses, I noticed Charles Gibson, the chairman of the foundation, circulating throughout the tables. Eventually, he reached ours, bracing his hands againstthe corners of Cora’s chair as he paused. “How we all doing tonight?”
I didn’t like the way he smirked down at Cora or the way his gaze narrowed in on the Barbanels as Dad made introductions around the table.
“You must be so proud of your grandson,” he said, and I didn’t think it an exaggeration to call his tone ingratiating. “I know I am. It’s rare people realize my great-grandfather was a scientist in his own right. We’d love to see more work about his contributions.”
I resisted rolling my eyes, glancing over at Ethan to see his response—but he was drinking it in. Which, okay, made sense. He’d been so nervous about this talk, and he’d worked so hard on it. He deserved praise. Even if I wasn’t convinced Frederick Gibson did.
“If you’ll excuse me,” the modern Mr. Gibson said, after a few more comments to the elderly Mr. and Mrs. Barbanel and to Ethan’s parents. “It’s time for my speech.”
Charles Gibson climbed to the low stage. Behind him, twinkle lights sparkled. The audience quieted down, covertly digging into their entrées. “Welcome, everyone, to the eighty-ninth annual gathering of the Gibson Foundation.” He paused for a round of applause. “I’m excited to introduce our newest initiatives and members, but first, the announcement we’ve been teasing for the last few weeks…As you know, my family’s foundation has been a proud supporter of the sciences for over a hundred years, and we’re delighted to fund so many deserving causes. We support innovation in all stages, but I have a special spot in my heart forthose who accidentally stumble into their life’s work. And so I’m particularly proud to announce the Frederick Gibson Award, a new award for early career scientists.”
The applause was enthusiastic, and I joined in, muddled as I felt. On one hand, it was great the Gibson Foundation would be sponsoring more research. On the other hand—
“As you may be aware, the Gibson Foundation was founded by my great-grandfather, Frederick Gibson, who is famous for his discovery of Gibson’s comet—which we’ll all enjoy viewing in a few weeks. But he began his career in coastal surveying and only pivoted in his late thirties after accidentally discovering a comet.”
On the other hand, I didn’t exactly love the story being furthered here.
“Frederick was the third son of a rather demanding family, who didn’t think he’d amount to much.” The chairman allowed himself a small chuckle. “But he was fascinated by the stars, and so he set himself to work learning everything he could about them. He took astronomy classes here on Nantucket, and often in the evenings, he’d go outside to look at the sky. His hard work and research paid off: Within a few years, he’d accomplished something few others had. He’d discovered a comet.”
My hands closed in small fists beneath the table, but I made myself breathe deeply. It wasn’t like the chairmanknewFrederick Gibson had been a liar; he thought the story he was telling was true. Besides, it wasn’t like I had hard-core proof yet, either.
“The discovery of the comet and the fame that came alongside it changed Frederick’s life. Instead of a normal career, Frederick was catapulted into an extraordinary stratum of scientific societyat the time, and could make the connections necessary to launch this foundation, which has helped encourage and support research to this day. He is a sterling example of the way passionate new researchers can make a difference in the world, and we hope others will follow in his example.”
Despite myself, I let out a disgusted snort. It would have been nice ifAndreahad been launched into an extraordinary strata, if more women had her footsteps to follow in.
Dad looked at me. “What is it?”
“It’s nothing.” I flattened my hands against my knees. Ethan shook his head warningly.Keep it together, Jordan.
Onstage, Charles Gibson wasn’t done. “In fact, I’m excited to announce that next year, during the ninetieth annual gathering of the Gibson Foundation, we’ll be giving a retrospective of the man himself. Let’s all raise a glass to the new Frederick Gibson Award—and to Frederick Gibson himself!”
Everyone did, but it was beyond me to join in. In fact, my mouth dropped open, and I stared at Charles onstage. “Are you kidding me?”
“Jordan, are you okay?” Dad asked.
“Yeah, I’m okay. It’s just—” I snapped my mouth shut, glancing again at Ethan.
“Just what?” Ethan’s mom asked.
Everyone was looking at me so expectantly, except Ethan, who gave me a searching look. But—it wouldn’t hurt to mention it here. It wasn’t like Charles Gibson could hear me, so it wouldn’t get in the way of any grants. I wasn’t making a big deal of this publicly, just at our dinner table. “Gibson didn’t discover the comet.”
Ethan closed his eyes.
I suddenly had the attention of the entire table, from Dad and Cora to Ethan’s parents and grandparents. “Excuse me?” Cora said.
Oops. After the words had burst out of me, I felt halfway deflated. “I mean, I’m ninety percent sure he didn’t. So this whole thing, holding up Frederick Gibson like some kind of hero”—I waved at the stage, where Charles Gibson was still talking—“feels like a farce.”
Helen Barbanel was perhaps the only person not regarding me with shock. Instead, she cut into her moussaka. “I, for one, hate farces. Very tedious. How does this one go?”
Beneath the table, Ethan took my hand and squeezed. I shot him a grateful look, then turned to everyone else. “I’ve been researching this woman, Andrea Darrel. She was an astronomer in the early nineteen hundreds.” I looked at Dad and Cora. “One of the Harvard Computers. She helped Annie Cannon teach astronomy classes, and Gibson took one. They fell in love.” I took a deep breath. “I think Andrea Darrel discovered the comet, not Frederick Gibson.”
Everyone stared at me, then the table burst out in a babble of questions.
“You read this in her diaries?” Cora asked. She sounded like she believed me. “She wrote it down?”
I winced. “Uh—close. But it could be…more conclusive.”
