And Sarah didn’t say anything because she wholeheartedly agreed. She wished so badly she could turn back time and guard the metsovone with everything she had. Sarah watched her father dance and eventually coax Benjamin up too, and the pair of them went round and round their small little room, pausing with an Opa beside their handwritten family tree chart composed of concentric circles, like rings on an old tree. The chart was a tradition among Corfiot Jews, and Sarah had grown up on the stories behind the names written in careful script in each little box.

Sarah closed her eyes and listened to their footwork resume and the loop of ki ki ri ki ki, and her thoughts shifted to Milos. Only to Milos.

Chapter Eleven

Joey

Corfu
2004

They stood before the turquoise beach at Paleokastritsa, on Corfu’s western coast. The sky glowed in gradients of white. Taxi drivers hunched over a folding table, playing vigorous backgammon. Joey still had no clue why they were there.

“I want to show you something, Jonesey!” Leo said, bouncing her arm.

Leo led her through a maze of docks across the harbor. They stopped at a yacht that gleamed white and blue. “This is my yacht for the summer.”

“Your yacht? What do you mean?” Her chest twitched with mild alarm. Some people loved surprise parties, which Joey couldn’t fathom. She liked time to prepare herself, and besides she was generally too hyper-perceptive for a surprise to work before she’d sniffed it out. But in this case, she hadn’t seen it coming. Leo’s yacht.

“Come on, Jonesey. Let me give you a tour.” Without explaining, he hopped on and helped her over. She glimpsed the nameplate. APOLLO.

Leo led her to an impressive salon adorned in Missoni throws and then down a flight of stairs. He pointed out the staterooms (tiny cabins best suited for midgets) and the galley (a kitchen the appropriate size for Lily to bake up some mean pretend brownies). Okay, Joey acknowledged her crankiness, but a sense of foreboding had gripped her. Leo mixed them screwdrivers, sprinkling words like gunwale and hawser with mounting enthusiasm.

“Leo,” she said, after they’d returned to what he’d called the stern, and he’d clarified that this meant the back of the boat. “What did you mean it’s your yacht?”

“Oh.” Leo jumped off the boat and extended his hand. “The thing is, Jonesey, well…I’ve sort of been nervous to tell you this. I’m dropping out of Michigan.”

“You’re what?” She stuck in place, and it took a few moments for the disorientation to lift. “Leo, wait up. Wait up, Leo!” She ran down the dock and turned him by his shoulder.

“It’s not my thing, Jonesey. I gave it a try, and it wasn’t for me.”

“What do you mean? College is for everybody.”