“Does that mean yes or no?”

Another shrug. It was getting really annoying.

“Have you ever had it before?”

He shook his head.

“Oh,” I said. “Well, Dad has been brining the brisket for a week. And I can smell it cooking, so I know that’s what we’re having for dinner tonight. You’ll probably like it. It’s Dad’s specialty. It’s really delicious. So is the cabbage he makes to go with it. But there will be potatoes and carrots too, if you don’t like cabbage. Not everyone loves cabbage. My brother, Nate won’t touch it. But he’ll eat twice his share of potatoes. The carrots are my favorite.”

I reached for the remote and turned on the TV, happy that a fun talk show was just starting. My cat came thumping down the stairs. He sauntered into the room, his white tail aimed at the ceiling, and stopped abruptly when he noticed it wasn’t just me on the couch. He is mostly white with a few markings, including a black mustache on his face that makes him look very fancy. He is quite a distinguished cat, as a matter of fact, other than when he licks his butt. Obviously.

Oren looked from the cat to me.

“That’s François,” I said.

Oren raised his eyebrows. I guess it is a funny name for a cat.

“Actually, his real name is Frank—Nate named him when I was too little to have a say. But look at his mustache. Don’t you think a cat with a mustache should have a fancier name than plain old Frank?”

Oren stared at me for a second and nodded.

I guess that settled it for François. He jumped up onto the couch and settled right in Oren’s lap.

“He likes you,” I said. “And that’s saying something, because he doesn’t like almost anybody.”

I saw a bit of that smile I’d seen in the ice cream shop.

“Do you have any pets?” I asked, even though I was pretty sure I knew the answer.

Oren shook his head. I was about to remove François, who isn’t just distinguished-looking but also quite pushy sometimes. But Oren lifted his good hand and tentatively started petting the cat. Which, of course, had been the cat’s plan all along.

After a while Dad called us up for dinner. This was a good thing, because I’d completely run out of things to say to Oren.

I know, that’s hard to believe. I never run out of things to say.

But Oren and I had been sitting there without talking for so long that he’d even fallen asleep at one point. Which was a relief, because if he was sleeping, I didn’t have to keep thinking of things to say to keep the conversation going. All by myself.

Anyway, when Dad hollered with our five-minute dinner warning, I led Oren to the bathroom so we could wash our hands. I caught myself telling him all about the different fragrances of soaps we have in the house (unscented for Mom and Dad’s bathroom, lavender for the guest one and the one I share with Nate, and lemon curd in the kitchen).