“Oh, good. I thought that was you.” She looks thrilled to see me. She’s dressed in a neon-purple swimsuit, and on top of that she’s wearing a blue-and-white flowered blouse, open in the front, blue Bermuda shorts, a pair of red flip-flops, a giant straw hat over her mass of white hair, and huge white sunglasses.

She beams at me. “So I see you’re going kayaking.”

“Well, actually, I want to go pa—”

“I want to go kayaking. In one of those nice blue kayaks they have, not a green one,” she says. “That’d be nice.”

She reminds me of Abby, in a wrinkled-up way. Just announcing what she wants for everyone to hear, and then waiting for people to help her accomplish those things.

“I was wondering, would you like to kayak with me? It would be a great help. I’m still sharp, but I’m not as strong as I used to be. You look strong. I’ve always thought so—that Ada Bloom looks strong.”

I stare at her in dismay. “Uh, well, you see—”

“You’ll help an old lady, won’t you?”

I have to hand it to her. That “old lady” knows how to outmaneuver a sixteen-year-old girl.

So that’s how I end up paddling an eighty-something legendary former heart surgeon all over the lagoon for the next two and a half hours.

“I’m sorry that your stepfather didn’t come this year,” she says as I paddle us to one end of the lagoon. “I quite like him. He’s a peach.”

“I think so, too.”

“Your little sister’s a doll,” she says. “And that Afton’s a go-getter, isn’t she?”

“Yes,” I agree, to both things.

“I almost feel sorry for the Wong boy,” Marjorie says. “She just swept him off his feet like he didn’t have a choice in the matter.”

“Does everyone at the conference know about Michael and Afton?”

Marjorie purses her lips. “Everybody knows who’s got eyes to see with, or ears to hear about it. It’s a small world, with the STS, and people do like a little scandal now and then.”

“Is it scandalous?”

“Perhaps scandal is the wrong choice of words. But you have to remember that we’ve been seeing you since you were little babies. Some of us aren’t ready for you to be all grown up. Afton’s a chip off your mother’s block, if you ask me,” Marjorie continues. “But you . . .” She taps a finger to her chin. “You I haven’t quite been able to figure out. You keep your cards close to the chest, don’t you?”

I’m starting to think Marjorie had me paddle her out into the middle of the lagoon so I couldn’t escape her questions. But I’m not sure this is actually a question. “Cards?” I say.