“Apollo needed a bath,” I explain. “And I’m late to meet friends, so …” I spin toward the house.
“I had an interesting talk with Hanson Ellsworth earlier,” Dad calls after me.
My steps slow.
“He wanted to let me know it was an ‘unfortunate look’ for my daughter to be staff at a ‘preeminent establishment.’”
I wince before spinning to face my father. “What did you say?”
“That it was none of his business how or where you spend your time. If I’d had any idea you were waitressing at the yacht club, I could have come up with a better response.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I was going to tell you.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I didn’t—I wasn’t sure what you and Mom would think.”
Dad exhales, walking past me and taking a seat in one of the rocking chairs that line the front porch. After a moment of hesitation, I do too.
“What made you decide to work there?”
“I don’t like that people might see me as … helpless. As inept because we have so much money and because of all the advantages that go along with that. It’s one thing back home, where all my friends have similar backgrounds. Or when I was younger. But as an adult, heading to college in the fall? I don’t want to be the sheltered rich girl who has never changed her sheets or ridden in an older car or cooked for herself. I figured this summer was my last chance to change that, so I’m trying to … branch out. I didn’t want you or Mom to think I was ungrateful, or?—”
“We would have been proud, Wren. Iamproud. Your mom will be too.”
“Yeah?”
“Of course. I know what it’s like for people to make assumptions. I grew up with the last name Kensington too. I know it can be a burden more than anything else. It took me too long to exert some autonomy over it, but you’ve never been afraid to break away from the expected.” Dad smiles. “Maybe too unafraid at times, but this isn’t one of them. If you want a summer job, I think it’s fantastic.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Anything else you want to tell me?”
I think, then shake my head. “Nope. We’re good.”
Dad stands. “I’m going to pretend that pause didn’t terrify me. You still have a curfew, Wren. Don’t think your latest birthday changed that.”
I roll my eyes, then head inside to change. Truthfully, I don’t hate that my parents are constantly checking in. They’ve always been that way. And I know a lot of peers whose parents let them do whatever they want, which sounds appealing but actually sort of sucks.
I change, braid my hair so that it’s not flying in my face while I’m driving, and head back downstairs. There’s no sign of Dad. I’m guessing he snuck into the room that’s been designated as his office, even though he told Mom he wouldn’t be working on weekends while we were here. Not that Mom’s much better—she’s currentlyatwork, overseeing the construction site.
Driving to the Rausings’ place—Leah is hosting this afternoon’s pool party—takes about twenty minutes. I park at the end of the row of cars, swinging my bag over my shoulder and whistling as I walk alongthe gravel driveway. Some bits get stuck in my sandals, so I walk over the grass edge instead.
“You finally made it, huh?”
I glance left, at Tanner Whitney. He’s leaning against a silver Range Rover, smoking a cigarette.
“Aw,” I say, pausing. “Were you waiting for me?”
“Nah, just noticed you weren’t here. Party was boring.”
“Are you leaving?”
“Not unless you want to.”
“Ijustgot here,” I remind him.
“We see these people all the time, Wren. Literally, it’s just the same people. Don’t you ever get bored?”
