“Oh? What did you think?” said Simon, playfully.
“I guess I thought it was kind of…” said Guinness, going bright red and stammering.
“Dorky,” clarified Jameson.
“So American,” muttered Penelope, disdainfully. A citizen of the UK and the United States, she considered herself a worldly arbiter of culture. Cleo saw herself in the girl—Penelope was sensitive, watchful, wise, and extremely judgmental.
“In the winter,” said Simon, “there are Canadian geese.”
Sylvie’s family trained their gazes on the beach, helping one another figure out how to use the binoculars and camera lenses, sipping hot tea from thermoses. They gasped when a flock of birds lifted as one. “Oystercatchers,” said Simon.
“A group of oystercatchers is called a stew, Rockefeller, or parcel,” added Penelope.
Cleo savored watching the oystercatchers; all of the sisters were transfixed, silent, awed.
“There you are!” cried Donna, shattering the magical moment, huffing and puffing her way up the trail. She grabbed Cleo’s arm. “This isso boring,” she said, “right?”
“I’m having fun,” said Cleo.
“Oh, please,” said Donna.
“I thought we could take a break in the hide here,” said Simon, pointing to a dilapidated wooden shack, “and then head back to the van.”
“Cleo, you come with me,” said Donna. “We need to talk.”
Cleo ached to join her family in the hide, to page through the bird books Simon had brought. But she stayed in the rain with her mother.
“Listen,” said Donna, as the rest of their crew moved out of earshot. “It’s not too late with Danny. He’s ready to forgive you. He wants tomarry you,Cleo! This estrangement has been a big misunderstanding.”
“I don’t want to marry Danny,” said Cleo.
“Yes, you do,” said Donna. “You don’t knowwhatyou want, honey, you never have.”
In this statement, at least, Donna was absolutely right.
“Go on,” said Donna. “He’s waiting for you over there in the mud by the scary cliff. Say yes, and then all my girls will have handsome husbands, and honestly, who knows what might happen tomein England!” She turned and waved to the Winefride naturalist, who was bringing up the rear of the group. Barnaby seemed surprised and pleased by Donna’s attention.
“No,” said Cleo.
Donna stared at her eldest daughter. “What did you say?”
“I said no,” said Cleo. “You don’t care what’s good for me. I didn’t want to be an actress and I don’t want to get married now,and I’m not your pawn, Mom. I love you, and I always will, but I need to figure out what I want on my own.”
“This is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard,” said Donna. “You’re not in your right mind, dear. Did you hear me? Danny wants you to marry him and he is going to ask you right now in the rain on this strange and chilly beach. So go!”
“I don’t think you heard me,” said Cleo.
“The ring he brought isnotenormous,” said Donna. “You’re going to need to go to Tiffany’s for an emerald cut. We don’t really like the round cut, do we?”
In truth, Cleodidn’tlike the round cut. She wore pearl earrings, like Donna. She (like Donna) disparaged Japanese cars, vegans, and cellulite. Until Danny had upgraded their lotions, she’d used Jergens Cloud Crème as Donna did. Every inch of Cleo was ready to be evaluated by her mother. But as she comprehended this, Cleo also realized she could stop.
“I don’t have to repeat myself,” said Cleo. “You’re never going to hear me.”
“He also boughthimselfan engagement ring,” continued Donna. “Which—I’m sorry, but gauche.”
Cleo shook her head. Clarity felt like being doused with freezing cold water.
She had never been golden.
