Once on the boat, which was docked near Michael’s Harborside restaurant, Sherri counted six couples, plus herself and Rebecca. So not the whole squad then. Some people must be on vacation, or busy with extended families. At least half the women were wearing white jeans, and this felt like a small victory to Sherri. She had never met the husbands before, and Rebecca introduced them quickly—SteveJoeDavidHenryMattOtherJoe. They all looked more or less the same, like overgrown frat boys gone a little thick, and she felt a sharp pang of nostalgia for how she and Bobby used to make heads turn when they walked into a party together. Bobby had never let himself get soft.

But never mind all that now. She accepted a drink in a red cup that somebody handed her, and she took a sip. “Delicious,” she said. She attempted a friendly laugh but it came out more like an awkward squeal.

“Tito’s and blueberries with just a touch of tequila,” said Gina. She took the Brie bites from Sherri.

“I didn’t get a chance to make anything,” Rebecca told Gina. “I’m so sorry! The day got completely away from me.”

Gina and Rebecca exchanged a glance that could possibly have been described as frosty.

“Well, these look phenomenal, anyway,” said Gina, peering at the Brie bites.

With that endorsement, Sherri began to relax. The seats were like giant cozy couches, and there was a dark green canopy covering the captain’s chair. Steve was at the helm. The pontoon began to glide in a stately manner down the river.

Rebecca sat on one side of Sherri. On Sherri’s other side was a husband. (One of the Joes? David?)

Rebecca leaned over and said, “Joe, Sherri’s new to town. She came from landlocked Ohio, and yes we all feel bad for her, but now she’s found her way to the right part of the country. She’s never eaten a whole lobster, you know! We’re going to rectify that soon. Can you give her a little bit of a geography lesson?”

“Ohio!” said Joe. “I lived in Ohio until I was ten.”

“I didn’t know that!” said Rebecca.

Sherri flushed and ducked her head. This was okay: she was fine. She had prepared for a moment like this. Redbrick, she thought. Livingston Park. Carpenter Street.

“Cleveland,” Joe said to Sherri. “Well, just outside.”

Relief washed over Sherri. She tried to make her voice sound regretful as she said, “Oh! Too bad. We lived outside of Columbus. I don’t know Cleveland very well at all.”