“Well,” Eric said, as they reached the subway. “It was good meeting you. Have a good dinner. Family night sounds nice. I kind of miss my folks.”

And then…Scarlett heard herself speaking.

“Come with us,” she said. “Have dinner.”

Out of politeness, Spencer didn’t make any weird faces or sudden moves, but he did slip a look in Scarlett’s direction. Family night was not a “bring everyone you know over” kind of a thing. People had come in the past—Marlene occasionally dragged along a Powerkid, and Spencer had brought one or two of his high school girlfriends—but that was back when they had a cook.

“It’s just one more person,” Scarlett said. “There’s always lots of food. Tons.”

When he didn’t reply for a moment, Scarlett thought he was trying to think of a polite way of backing out of this sudden invitation. But then he looked to them both, smiling broadly.

“I’m always up for free food,” Eric said. “And I actually like going to family stuff. If it’s okay…”

“Sure,” Spencer said quickly. “Definitely. I warn you though…if you like food that tastes good, this may come as a bit of a shock. But there should be plenty of it.”

“Lots is my favorite kind,” Eric said. “Lead the way.”

ONE BIG, HAPPY FAMILY

When they reached the hotel, Spencer took Eric upstairs to clean up a little before dinner. Scarlett ducked behind the front desk. Lola stashed a few quick-fix items in the back of one of the file cabinets—a mirror, some little papers that blotted oil from your face, a clear lip gloss. She fumbled around with these for a moment, then went into the dining room to prepare the way as best she could.

There was a pungent odor in the air that smelled vaguely like exhaust fumes. Marlene was making a half-hearted effort at setting the table by dumping silverware in the middle. Her dad brought a defeated-looking salad from the kitchen. He had decided to wear his hipster cowboy shirt. It was white-and-blue check with yellow roses embroidered on the collar. He’d bought it from the thrift store downtown and was exceedingly proud of it, not realizing that even the coolest NYU student would have a hard time pulling off that look. Spencer’s code name for it was “The Texas Style Massacre.”

Of course he was wearing it tonight. Of course he was.

“Someone else is coming,” Scarlett said, trying not to sound too nervous. “A friend…of Spencer’s. From out of town. From North Carolina. His name is Eric. He doesn’t have any family around, so…we brought him back. Is that okay? He’s upstairs.”

Marlene stopped shoving around the silverware and gazed at her. She was talking too much and too fast. If she did this all night, she would scare Eric away—that is, if he didn’t take one look at her dad’s shirt and leap right out the window.

“I guess it has to be if he’s already here,” her dad said. “I just hope we have enough. We have another guest for dinner.”