When the famous potatoes were finally served, Dorsey found them lifeless, saltless, and hard to boot. The sauerkraut was bitter and the bratwurst greasy. It was one of the worst meals he’d ever eaten. Liza had artfully spaced all the food on her plate to give the illusion of an eaten meal. His thigh pressed against hers. It was everything he could do to hold his hands at his sides. Seeing her, being near her again, was just too intense for him. They had kept a loose correspondence in these three months, with quick teasing texts or memes. Their communication seemed almost easy. And communication had never come easy to Dorsey. Liza didn’t know how he agonized for hours before he sent her a message. She would shoot back something pithy, and he would be reeling all over again. It was what made him get over his second thoughts about her family and come to see her.

“Liza,” Senator De Berg boomed across the table, “I hear you’re here to help Lucia with her podcast. Are you a good interviewer?”

“Not really. My show isn’t really that format.”

“Have you heard that podcast Serial? Can you make the podcast a little like that?”

“A true-crime mystery women’s Christian podcast?” Liza smirked.

The senator nodded wistfully. “I could’ve been a reporter. I have an instinct, you know? And I don’t give up. With a little training, I could have been at the Washington Post.”

“Oh, most definitely, sir, and excelling at that as much as you do your public service work,” Colin simpered.

“It’s a similar skill,” Chicho said.

“That’s right. I could see this wall full of Pulitzers had I just pushed in the opposite direction.” The senator pulled up his high school newspaper pictures, kept at the ready on his Facebook profile. He passed the phone around. Everyone nodded politely. Except for Colin, who sighed in awe.

“We’re all so glad you chose public service, Senator.”

“Public service,” the senator said, pausing wistfully, “chose me.”

Dorsey saw Liza and Park roll their eyes together.

“So, Liza, how’s your crusade against progress going?” the senator asked.

“Progressing, actually.” Liza smiled tightly.

“I got a look at that amateurish proposal you drafted.”

Dorsey saw Liza look over to Colin, then to him. “There are still some wrinkles to iron out,” she said.

Dorsey kept his eyes on her sleek hands and the tiny little gold rings on each finger. A cracked-screen Apple Watch looked incongruous on her slender wrist.