The Rest of the Story(103)

“One I don’t want,” I grumbled. We were quiet for a second. Then I said, “So what did you do?”

“When?” he asked.

“When you were young and stupid.”

He looked at me as if I was kidding. When it was clear I wasn’t, he said, “We don’t really need to get into that, do we?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Stories help sometimes. That’s something I’ve learned this summer.”

“You want to hear my irresponsible stories,” he said.

“I want to know what you went through,” I said. “I know all about Mom. But not you.”

There was another pop. We both looked up to see a firework shooting up above the trees, then split into a shower of sparks. Somewhere, a dog started barking.

“Give me some time, okay?” he said finally. “I’ll work up to it. Or try to. Is that fair?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

Now, he smiled. Would this really happen? Time would tell. “We should probably get out of here,” he said. “Don’t want Later Gator to show up because someone reported a couple of prowlers.”

I looked at him, surprised. “You know they call him Later Gator?”

He gave me a grin. “I’ll explain another time.”

Back out at the road, it was fully dark now, the Tides all lit up as well as the Club beside it. I could hear another pop as we crossed the street, but this time I didn’t turn around to look. “Fourth is tomorrow,” he observed. “The Club’s having a cookout on the beach, followed by fireworks. You up for going?”

“Can I?”

“Tracy and I are,” he said. “I think Nana will probably watch from the room.”

“I’d love it,” I told him.

He looked at me then, seeming surprised. “Great. I’ll let the Club know. We’ll have a nice family evening.”

I nodded, just as we approached the main doors of the hotel. “Welcome to the Tides!” someone yelled as we came inside, the A/C feeling freezing after the humid night. Glimpsing the lake out the windows, I looked for the raft, trying to picture my mom and dad, just a little older than me, riding out on a similar night to meet cute on the water. I never had gotten the whole story out of him, but I knew how it ended. Us together, two instead of three, stepping into another elevator on a different night, this one.





Twenty-Two


“More toast?” Nana asked me, breaking the silence that we’d sat in together for the last half hour or so with our respective breakfasts and papers.

“I’m fine,” I told her. “But thanks.”

She dabbed her mouth with her napkin, moving her coffee cup to one side. “I heard you and your dad come in last night. It sounded like you were actually talking.”

I nodded. “Yeah. We went for a walk and worked some stuff out.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she said, giving me a smile. “In other news, the dinner is coming together nicely. I’ve got us a reservation at the Club for next Friday at six p.m. Large table, so we can invite whoever we like.”

“It’s really happening?” I asked, surprised.

“What’s happening?” I heard my dad say as he came down the hallway from his suite in his trunks, carrying his goggles. An all-state swimmer in college, he’d begun starting every day with a dive off the dock, followed by a quick mile, before breakfast.

I looked at Nana, who said, “Oh, well, Emma and I were just talking about this dinner I want to plan with the Calvanders.”

My dad, who had started to peel his banana, now stopped, looking at her. “The Calvanders? You mean Mimi and Joe?”

“Joe died,” I reminded him. “Oxford is her husband now.”

Nana said, “I was thinking Mimi and her husband, yes, and Celeste and hers, and then the kids. Maybe one or two of Emma’s other friends, too, if they were free.”

“Mother.” He was still holding the banana. “Emma is grounded.”

“And this is happening Friday, at which point I was thinking you may have revisited that issue.” She picked up a napkin, holding it out to him, even though from what I could tell, the banana was barely messy. Nice touch. “Of course, if you feel strongly, then I can cancel the reservation. I just thought that after they had Emma all that time, it would be a good gesture.”

“It is,” he agreed. “But I’m not sure a Club dinner is the best way to express our gratitude. It might make them . . . uncomfortable.”

“Not Bailey,” I said. I couldn’t help myself. “She’s already excited about the oyster forks.”

They both looked at me. Dad said, “Excuse me?”

“She’s always wanted to eat at the Club. It’s, like, her dream.”

“Well.” Nana smiled. “Now we’re making dreams come true. That’s nice!”

“Mother, maybe you and I should discuss this privately,” my dad said, putting the napkin back on the table. “We certainly don’t want to invite someone to something that will be stressful for them.”

“The girl is excited about the forks,” Nana pointed out.

“Maybe it would be better if I offered to do something at their place,” my dad said. “On the beach, say. I could find a caterer, and—”