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“My daddy is the fourth Samuel Kennedy King,” Katherine explained.“His father was the third, and his granddad was junior.”She leaned closer to me.“His real nickname is Wasp; it’s only my mama who calls him Q.”
“What about you, Archer?”Mrs.King asked.“Are you named after your father?”
“I’m not.His name is Thomas,” I said, chuckling.“My mother’s father was William.However, her maiden name is Archer.”
“Ah, soArcherAlexander.”
“That’s correct.”
“Hmm,” Katherine’s mother murmured, making me wonder where she was going with this conversation.
“My mama is hellbent on giving everyone a pet name,” Katherine whispered.
“Yeah?What’s yours?”I asked when her mother appeared distracted, writing something on a notepad.
Her cheeks flushed.“Boring.”
I smiled.“I find that hard to believe.”
Her cheeks turned even more pink.“K.”
“Z!”her mother exclaimed.“Look.”On the notepad, she’d written Archer, then Alexander, then Zander.“It’s that or A.”
“I like it.Z, I mean.”Katherine looked up at me.
“Yeah?”
When she smiled and nodded, I knew that regardless of what her mother came up with—even something as disparaging as donkey—if it put that look on Katherine’s face, I’d forever refer to myself that way.
“Can you ride?”Mrs.King asked.
“She means horses,” Katherine whispered.
I smiled.“I have a time or two.”
Their facial expressions were identical—both had furrowed brows.
“Sorry, teasing.I’ve ridden since I was a child.”
“How well?”Mrs.King asked.
I shrugged.“Fair, I’d say.”
“Now isnotthe time to be humble, Z.”
“I am a member of the Ashbury Park Polo Club, as was my father before me.”
“Have you competed in the Park Open?”
I was stunned that Mrs.King was familiar enough to ask.“I have.”
“Last year?”
“Yes, ma’am.”It had been the first time a British team won the title in several years.We’d emerged victorious in the final round after defeating the Americans.
She put her hand on Katherine’s arm.“Best not to tell your father.”
“Understood.”
