“No, no, no.” Her dad guffawed. “You know darn well that song begins with, ‘We’re no strangers to love,’ you cheater.”
Her mom laughed and looked at Pinky in the rearview mirror. “What do you think, Pinky?”
“Well, since that song’s from, like, the Mesopotamian age, I’m not really sure, but I can Google it.”
“The Mesopotamian age?” her dad said, glancing at her in the rearview mirror with wounded eyes. “How old do you think we are?”
Pinky laughed as their rented BMW turned onto the gravel road that led to the lake house. “I refuse to answer on the grounds that it might incriminate me.”
Her dad guffawed. “Well played, kid.”
Pinky smirked. “I learned from the best.”
She looked out her window at the encroaching house, feeling a frisson of excitement in spite of herself and her utter conviction that this summer was going to suck. The house was enormous—five giant bedrooms, six bathrooms, a wraparound bi-level deck with a hot tub, a gazebo, and a barn in the backyard, and the lake within walking distance. She’d spent nearly every summer of her childhood here. There were so many heat-baked, happy memories—paddleboating on the lake while the sun beat down on the top of her head, visiting the island’s butterfly habitat with her parents, she and her cousin Dolly playing in the big barn and making “nests” out of dead leaves for a fictional cat they hoped would give birth to kittens there that summer. Pinky’s family and Dolly’s family (Dolly’s mom and Pinky’s mom were sisters) owned the house together.
As if on cue, her cell beeped.
Dolly: Where are you???? We’ve been here forever!
Grinning, Pinky responded, We’re pulling up! I can’t wait to see you!
Dolly: Me either! This summer is going to be soooo fun. Low key, doing a whole lot of nothing, just you and me hanging.
Pinky typed back, I KNOW. I can’t wait.
She looked up at her parents. “Dolly’s already here.”
“Excellent!” her dad said, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited for the garage door to open. “Prepare for the inevitable Boggle beatdown.”
Pinky rolled her eyes and laughed.
“I can’t wait to hear what Dolly’s been up to all year!” her mom said as they pulled in next to Dolly’s family’s rented Jetta. Her voice was buoyant, like she was filled with bubbles. “Wasn’t she up for some big teen humanitarian award?”
Pinky slumped back in her seat. If there was one thing she could change about her perfect cousin, it would be… her perfection. And the way her own mom responded to it—moth, flame, et cetera. Couldn’t Dolly have at least one tiny flaw? It didn’t have to be anything major, just a tendency to spill ink on Pinky’s mom’s important papers or something.
Pinky unbuckled her seat belt. “Yeah,” she said reluctantly, in answer to her mom’s question. “And I think she won it.”
Samir
Samir was considering throwing a penny in the fountain for good luck on his first day when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen.
His mother. He swiped and held the phone to his ear. “Ma?”
“Samir!” Her slightly husky voice came floating down the line. “Where are you?”
Samir looked around the busy lobby. “At Iyer & Whitman. The law offices?”
“Good, good. Did you remember to starch your cuffs and collar this morning? I forgot to ask you.”
“Of course I did.” That would be a rookie mistake, forgetting something as basic as that. He’d been starching his clothes since he was in third grade. And before that, his maid used to do it for him. “And I put a laminated copy of my itinerary on the fridge, so it’d be easy for you to find it.” He wasn’t expecting his mom to be totally rid of her old habits.
He could hear the smile in his voice as she answered. “I found it. Thank you, beta.”
“You’re wel—”
“Mr. Jha?”
Samir turned to see a young bespectacled brown-haired woman in a suit that was just slightly too big for her. “Yes,” he said, holding the phone away from his ear. “Just a moment, please.” To his mother, he said, “I have to go now. I’ll call you later, okay?”
A brief pause, during which he knew she was debating arguing. But then she said, “Thik hai. Talk to you soon.”
He pressed end, slipped his phone back into his pocket, and smiled precisely and politely at the young woman. Holding out his hand, he said, “Hi. I’m Samir.”
The woman took his hand in her own small, pale one and shook, her grip firm and dry. “Margot Peterson. I’m Mr. Stepping’s legal assistant.”
“Oh, great!” Samir’s smile got bigger, then dimmed a little when Margot looked at him with a mixture of pity and unhappiness.
She gestured to the couches right behind them. “Here, let’s have a seat and chat for a moment.”
“Okay.” Samir sat, his pulse speeding up. “Is… something wrong?” He was suddenly intensely afraid that she was going to say they’d meant to invite some other Samir Jha. That he was the wrong one. Maybe the real Samir was already up there, learning how Mr. Stepping liked his coffee in the mornings.
Margot sat across from him and leaned forward, her hands clasped between her knees. “Samir, Mr. Stepping had to take an unexpected sabbatical. He’s going to be gone for the next three months.”
Samir blinked. That was not even in the same zip code as what he’d readied himself to hear.
“What?” Not the most elegant response. Come on, Sam, you got a 720 on the vocabulary section of the SATs. You can do better than that. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Ah, I mean… What?”
Margot sat back and considered him, her brown eyes bright behind her glasses. “He’s gone. Ergo, he’s not taking on any interns this summer after all. I’m sorry, but your internship has fallen through.”
Samir took a beat to process this. There seemed to be a block of ice in his brain, though, that refused to let any coherent thought pass through. “But… I flew all the way from San Francisco to be here.”
“I know.” Margot pursed her lips. “All of this just happened this morning. I wish we’d had time to tell you before you spent your time and money doing that. I’m so sorry.”
“This just happened this morning? He decided to take a sabbatical on a whim?” Samir wasn’t a lawyer yet, but that seemed really shady to him. “Sorry, but that makes literally no sense.”
Margot shifted, and a faint flush of color rose to her pale cheeks. “Certain things have happened that forced our hand.”
Samir continued to stare blankly at her. The universe was making no sense today. “What?” he said again. It was apparently his new favorite word.
Margot sighed. She looked at him for a long moment, opening her mouth and then closing it again. Finally, she said, “This is confidential.”
Samir nodded slowly. “Okay.”
“I shouldn’t be telling you.”
He nodded again. “I won’t say anything to anyone.” What the heck was going on?