I got an invite to the First of Summer clambake. I politely declined.
I got an invite to go sailing on the Plunger. I said I had to work (I didn’t).
Then, I got an invite to Scout’s wedding. That I tossed in the trash.
“What?! You have to go to this,” Flo said, chasing me around the kitchen with the gorgeous envelope now stained with tartar sauce from the takeout fish-n-chips she and Dad had brought home the night before. Flo lived with us full time now.
The house was now cleaned every day. Dad got her to give up making compost soup. And that tangle of Christmas lights, beach chairs, snow shovels, and boots that had lined the garage entrance was now neat and organized, and all the old boots I had outgrown were cleaned and donated.
“I hope the response card isn’t ruined,” Dad said as Flo took homemade pizza out of the oven.
“You’ve got to go, kiddo. Show them that bygones are bygones and that this thing with Pepper is over. They are trying to make peace. Accept the olive branch.”
That was easy for him to say. He didn’t know the whole story. I hoped he never did. As far as I could tell, he just thought I had a fight with Pepper. Girl stuff, he called it.
“You want to work in the nonprofit world? You have to get along with people like the Tooheys.” Now that I was no longer a finance major, Dad had lots of advice.
“Why, just because they’re rich?”
“Yeah, because they’re rich. They’re the ones that write big checks. Who do you think paid for the addition to the library or for the benches along the waterfront? Or that swanky public bathroom down by the beach?” he said.
“Fireworks,” I added.
“The fireworks, yes, that, too. This is the way the world works. This is also your big chance to meet some important people. You never know who is going to be at that party. The father of the bride is in Congress. The mother’s some kind of society lady.”
“How do you know all this?”
“The engagement announcement was in the Bee.”
That frigging thing, I thought and rolled my eyes.
“Think about it,” he said. “We’re going on a short hike out to Fort Point. Do you want to join us?”
I didn’t. I just wanted to stay home in the quiet. But the house wasn’t quiet anymore. It now hummed with the motor for Flo’s fish tank pump and the bubbles it created. But it was a cheery sound. And the tank cast a welcoming glow into the living room, like the house had a heart.
Later, Dad brought the ketchup-stained invite up to my room.
“Do it for me,” he said with a serious tone I had never ever heard before. He handed it to me. “I have to live in this town. I don’t want anybody saying anything bad about you.”
“You’re worried about what people say? You’ve taken up with Keech’s most famous lesbian and you’re worried about what people say?”
“Flo would take a bullet for you. She’s the most honest person I know, yet she lies for you all the time. You think I don’t know when it’s your time of the month? I get that it’s some secret code between you for when you want to be left alone. I am not stupid. I’m a CPA. I can count to 28, you know.”