Page 55

Karen: Several people have failed to list dietary restrictions.

Trevor: mine is food that sucks

Julie: That is not a dietary restriction.

Trevor: debatable

Grandma Ruth: @SLOANE, YOU STILL HAVEN’T RSVP’D.

Patty: Come.

Julie: We’d love to have you.

Mason sent a thumbs-up. Byron wrote that my attendance would improve the accuracy of the historical record, which I suspected was his version of affection.

Hudson didn’t say anything in the main chat, but he sent me a message on our private thread.

Hudson: No pressure. But I’d like to meet you.

My stomach clenched, but before I could begin formulating an answer, my phone started ringing. Mom. I considered letting it roll to voicemail, but guilt had me moving my thumb toward accept.

“Hi,” I said.

“Sloane, are you busy?” The question was ceremonial. She continued before I answered. “We’re in Prague now. Your father says Budapest, but he’s confused because we took the overnight train.”

“I’m not confused,” Dad said in the background. “We were in Budapest yesterday.”

“See?” Mom said. “He agrees.”

I stared at the reunion invitation while she described their hotel, breakfast buffet, the view of the river, and how difficult it was to find an acceptable hairdryer in Europe.

“Did that lovely man call?” she asked.

“He texted.”

He had sent one message: Your parents say you’re a talented young lady. Would love to pick your brain over drinks.

His profile picture showed him standing beside a boat he probably referred to by name.

“What did you say?” Mom asked.

“I didn’t answer.”

“Sloane.”

“He’s married, Mom.”

“He’s separated.”

I sighed. “For his profile picture, he used a photo with his wife cropped out. Her hand is still on his shoulder.”

My father laughed.

Mom ignored him. “You’re too judgmental. You could at least hear what he has to say.”

“He wants to pick my brain over drinks.”

“See? He respects your intelligence.” I could hear her smiling.