Channing scrambled to her feet and then told Minjae she wanted to see his car. She took his arm as if to protect him from me and walked him down the driveway.
At the curb, there was a shiny red two-seater convertible. I watched them whisper to each other as they ambled toward it. She had her hand on his arm, and he bent it as if they were strolling to a formal event in another era.
I called to them. “Should we wait for you? Are we going to the beach or not?”
She looked back at me. “We’ll be right there,” she replied.
The boys had come outside now and were on either side of me. Edison said, “Where are they going?”
“Nowhere,” I replied. “Hey, does your car have a third-row seat?”
Austin said it did not. This meant we couldn’t all go together in the SUV if we were bringing Harabeoji.
Behind us in the kitchen, I heard the chime of a ringtone, so I went to look for my phone. Maybe it was Harabeoji asking where we were.
A new text popped up on Channing’s screen. No name, just a number, that’s how I knew it was Kent. The language was rather formal:Enjoyed seeing you last night. Looking forward to spending the day with you like you promised.
Promised?Channing and Minjae were headed back up the driveway. I handed Channing her phone. She saw the text right away and didn’t seem bothered. She tapped on the screen and showed it to me before putting her phone in her pocket. She’d written:Sorry, today doesn’t work but thanks.
I must have cringed, because she said, “Don’t worry.” And then she said to Minjae, “Let’s get out of here.”
“Whatever you want,” he replied.
I liked Minjae’s answer.
“We have a problem,” Channing began. “Edison likes the pool, but Austin likes the beach.”
“How about a place with both?” Minjae suggested. “My beach club?”
“Leeward Beach Club?” she asked. “Is it still there?”
“That’s the one,” he replied.
Channing turned to me and the boys, and we all agreed.
We still had to change and pack up, and Channing surprised me by making a game of it with the children. First one to the SUV with their swimsuits and towels would get a surprise, she told them, and then she whispered something to Minjae and ran inside and up the stairs. The boys followed. I had to change, too, but I wanted to take this opportunity to get to know this man my cousin was suddenly charmed by. He was scrolling through his phone, sitting on the step.
“Anything you want while you’re waiting?” I asked.
He didn’t reply, so I had to repeat myself. And then he seemed to startle and said, “Are you talking to me?” And I said I was, and he laughed, and I had to admit he had the most charming smile. He had an elfish chin and reminded me of that K-drama actor whose lips dipped down the way a frown would, except on him it was a smile. Also, he bent his head in such a way that he looked at you over the tops of his eyes. Endearing, sincere. Paul, on the other hand, had a solid square face.
“Sorry, I’m not always aware of what’s going on around me. I get caught up. What were you saying?” he asked.
That was just like Channing.
“How much longer are you here, in the States?” I said.
He suddenly looked contemplative. “After this job, Channing is going back to Boston, right?”
“I guess so.”
“Maybe I can extend my visa to work in Boston for a while.” He gave me a grateful smile.
Channing was back in record time. Even before I made it to the landing, she was on her way back down in white shorts and a black one-piece swimsuit edged in gold that still looked new. Black sunglasses were on top of her head.
In minutes we were in our respective cars—I was to pick up Harabeoji in my car while they drove the SUV with the boys—and agreed to rendezvous at the Leeward, East End’s one and only resort. Channing must have known Kent was on his way despite her text to him not to come. She had hit the accelerator hard and was nowhere in sight when I reached the intersection to the main street and saw a car turn toward me while I waited to pull out. I could see Kent’s face through the windshield. He took the turn a little fast and then sped down Sandpiper Lane in the direction from which I’d come.
Ames, Harabeoji, and Mr. Yun were standing in the driveway when I arrived. They had their heads bent toward Ames’s phone and were talking about an article she was writing on a zoning change in town. Apparently, Ames was a journalist with theEast End Courier, the town newspaper.
