I got lucky again with Cade’s parents and his nana. I went from being a guest to being a part of their family. Although I love them all, Nana has a special spot in my heart. The week Dad and I stayed at the inn, I asked Nana if I could bake with her. I woke super early and joined her in the kitchen. We laughed, listened to oldies playing on the radio. She gave me an apron and I helped her mix the dough for chruściki, a fried Polish pastry shaped like angel wings and dusted with powdered sugar. Nana called me her breath of fresh air. Later, Cade told me that Nana doesn’t share her baking secrets, not even with him, and that in the six months since his grandpa had died, it was the first time he’d heard Nana laugh. When Dad and I checked out, Nana hugged me like she never wanted to let go.

In need of a hug now, I get up and walk over to Dad. I open my arms. He rises and hugs me close. For a few moments, even though I’m three months shy of eighteen, it feels so good to be his little girl.

I let go, pick up our plates, and bring them to the sink. Over the sound of running water, I ask, “So what do you think our next step should be?” I turn off the faucet and face him.

“I’m not sure.” He comes to my side. “There is a rabbi on campus, and now that I think about it, a few years back he received some threatening messages. There were other incidents, but I don’t remember the details. An organization called Humanity for Peace and Justice helped. Maybe HPJ could give you advice or you could talk with the rabbi?”

I unplug my phone from the charger. There’s a missed text from Blair:

“OMG your day sounds like the worst! I DESPISE Mr. Bigotley! CALL ME! BTW, I got the part of Sandy in our school production of GREASE! Can’t wait to tell you about it. Love you.”

Grinning, I text her back, “Congrats! So proud of you!”

I go online and search for Humanity for Peace and Justice. Their site comes up immediately. The first line of their mission statement says: “To seek justice and provide support for those targeted because of religion, race, gender, or sexual orientation.”

“Got it.” The nearest office is in Albany. “I’m going to call Cade.” When I reach the bottom step for our back stairway, I turn around. “Thanks, Dad.” I smile. “Not just for this, but for being my dad.”

Chapter 22: Logan, Cade, Lissa Chen, Education Director at Humanity for Peace and Justice

Monday, 8:49 p.m. Three-way phone call: