Chapter Fifteen

The next morning, Ethan dropped down across from me at the outside table where I’d taken my coffee. His eyes gleamed. “I have an idea.”

“Okay,” I said cautiously. This seemed like a lot of energy, which I distrusted. “What kind of idea?”

It was one of those perfect summer mornings, with fat, lazy bees bumbling about. The sky was blue, the grass dark green, and everything smelled the way it had when I was a little kid at summer camp. If I could bottle this day, I would.

“Why don’t we get your boss to come out on the ship?” He waved a hand at my blank expression. “You know, Gary Dubois’s tall ship?”

“Gary—who? What ship?”

Ethan’s surprise quickly morphed into embarrassment. “I thought you knew. It’s in a few weeks. There’s this guy, Gary, who’s spent the last ten years building a replica of a nineteenth-century sailing ship. He’s a tech CFO and this is his hobby, I guess. Your dad and I are going out on it for a few nights.”

Right, yes, of course they were. Why was I still surprised they did things without me?

“Anyway, you and Dr. Bradley should come. It’d be guaranteed quality time for them.”

I was too busy trying to stomp out my spike of resentment to respond. Fine, my dad and Ethan still had their own relationship, but did it have to include a trip on a millionaire’s boat?

This was why anything romantic between us was a bad idea. I couldn’t make out with someone who made me simmer with jealousy.

Well, apparently I could. But I shouldn’t.

“Would they let us come?” I finally asked. “Is there room?”

“I think so. It’s pretty big.”

I didn’t hate the idea: a trip, after all, would create many repeated, unplanned interactions. But…“How would I convince Cora?”

“I dunno. It’s during the Arborids, so it’s supposed to be great for seeing them. Maybe she’ll care about that, because of astronomy?”

During the Arborids?

During the meteor shower Dad had always taken me to see as a kid, the one I’d assumed we’d watch together this year, on Nantucket. But Dad didn’t plan to be here. No, he planned to be off at sea, with Ethan. “I see.”

“I’ll show you the ship.” Ethan, unaware of my ire, pulled up a photo on his phone, and I blinked in surprise. Even though Ethan had called it a nineteenth-century replica, I hadn’t expected to see something straight out of Pirates of the Caribbean. Sails billowed atop a deep brown hull, edged in endless rigging.

“It’s a gaff-rigged schooner,” Ethan said. “He’s been working on it for years, and it’s finally seaworthy.”

It looked ridiculous. It looked amazing. “How long are you going?”

“Three nights.”

“Huh.” I bit my lip. “Maybe I’ll talk to Dad.”

I spent all day trying to psych myself up to ask Dad about the trip. He’d made a picnic dinner, which we took to Jetties Beach: avocado sandwiches with roasted red peppers, tomatoes, and red onions; pickle spears; salt and vinegar chips. It was windy, and the seagulls were out in full force—guarding our meal was an endless battle.

“So,” I said, once we’d demolished most of the food and the seagulls forswore us in order to attack two couples sharing a bag of chips. “Ethan says you’re going on a boat trip.”

“Er, yes.”

“Were you going to tell me about it before you left?”

“Actually…” Dad cleared his throat. “I was hoping you’d want to come with us.”

I blinked. Then blinked again. “Oh.”

“Only if you’re interested,” Dad said quickly. “I know you have your own plans and things to do here—”

“Dad, of course I want to come!”

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? It was weird. 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, wet splat on the beach, the crema-drenched sweet potato and corn salad flying everywhere, halted in their airborne escape by the nearest object.

Cora’s feet and calves.

I covered my eyes, mortified.

“Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry.” Dad dug several crumpled napkins out of his back pocket. His cheeks were bright red as he knelt to raise the napkins toward her legs.

“Father,” I hissed. Beside me, Ethan quaked with silent laughter.

Dad froze, still crouched. He glanced at me, then glanced at Cora, who stood just as frozen, before immediately shooting to his feet. “Here.” He offered her the napkins, before looking down and realizing they were covered in food. “I’ll be right back, let me get more.”

He dashed off and I hunched my upper body down. “Ugh.”

Ethan rubbed my shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”

“It will never be okay.”

“It’s fine,” Cora said, and when I looked at her she was laughing.

Suffice to say, Dad did not invite her on the boat trip that night.

I was undeterred.

On Monday, I had Dad pick me up at five o’clock and insisted he come in. He knocked on the doorframe to get our attention. When he had it, he lifted his hand and waved like he was auditioning to be the next Mr. Rogers. “Hello, there.”

I muffled a groan but couldn’t stifle a full-body wince. Why did my father have zero game? Why did I have any?

Cora swiveled in her chair. “Oh, hi. Picking Jordan up?” Unlike Dad, she sounded light and casual.

“Yeah. Yup.”

We were doomed.

“Okay,” I said slowly. “Let me grab my stuff.” I gathered my bag and fussed around on my desk as though I had notes to throw in.

“My friend Gary’s trip,” Dad said. “It’s, uh, there’s a bunch of extra cabins. Empty cabins. He’s inviting people he knows on Nantucket to come along, it’s for three nights. This coming Thursday through Sunday. Anyway, if you’re interested, you’d be welcome to join us.”

I held my breath.

“You’re inviting me on the trip?” Cora’s voice gave nothing away, not whether she considered this good or bad, if she was thrilled or baffled or utterly uninterested.

Dad swallowed. “Jordan mentioned you might like it. And you—since you’re interested in astronomy. Zero light pollution.”

Those sentences hadn’t been entirely logical, but they hadn’t been the worst. And he’d only thrown me under the bus a little bit.

“Hm.” Cora said. “I wouldn’t want to be an inconvenience.”

“You wouldn’t be, not all. The more the merrier. Gary—the guy running it—loves having new people around.”

They stared at each other.

“Yeah, okay,” she said. “I’ll think about it.”

But she smiled, and I knew I’ll think about it meant yes.