Chương 1
"""The first thing I noticed was that nobody had left the porch light on for me, and the second was that my parents had apparently gone on the Alaskan cruise without me.
I stood outside their Bellevue house at eight on Saturday morning with my suitcase beside my leg and pressed the doorbell again.
Nothing.
I checked the family group chat even though I had checked it twice before leaving my apartment.
My last message from Friday night still sat there beneath a photograph Megan had posted of some ridiculous cucumber drink.
“See everyone at eight tomorrow.”
Mom had reacted with a thumbs-up.
I knocked hard enough to make the brass numbers beside the door tremble.
From somewhere inside came frantic scratching, followed by a familiar bark.
“Buddy?”
The barking doubled.
I stared through the narrow window beside the door and saw a blur of golden fur racing through the entryway.
My parents’ golden retriever skidded across the hardwood, disappeared, then returned with a tennis ball in his mouth.
That was when the irritation in my stomach changed into something colder.
Buddy was supposed to be at a boarding kennel.
Mom had reminded me of that three times while I was organizing the trip.
I pulled out my phone and called her.
It rang until voicemail.
I called Dad.
Voicemail.
Megan.
Voicemail.
Kyle.
His phone went directly to voicemail, which was impressive because Kyle usually answered calls from bed without opening his eyes.
Buddy dropped the tennis ball and barked at me through the glass.
“Yeah,” I said.
“I’m getting the feeling we both missed a memo.”
There was a spare key inside a magnetic box beneath the metal patio table on the side of the house.
My parents believed hiding it anywhere near the front door was reckless, but hiding it thirty feet away under furniture was apparently advanced security.
I let myself in.
Buddy hit me at waist level before I had both feet through the door.
He whined, circled me, pushed his head against my thigh, and then sprinted toward the kitchen.
His water bowl was half full.
His food bowl was empty.
Beside it sat an automatic feeder that was switched off.
“Fantastic.”
Buddy wagged his tail.
My suitcase looked absurd standing in the foyer.
I had packed waterproof hiking shoes, two sweaters, a dinner jacket Dad had insisted I bring, binoculars, and the stupid navy tie Mom had given me for Christmas because she said there would be formal dinners.
For ten days, I had rearranged work schedules around this trip.
I had asked another regional manager to cover two inspections.
I had spent three evenings building contingency plans for eight restaurants because apparently I could prepare for a freezer compressor dying in Renton but not for my entire family disappearing.
My phone rang.
MOM flashed across the screen.
I answered immediately.
“Where are you?”
There was music behind her voice and the hollow noise of people talking in a large indoor space.
“Oh, good, you’re there.”
I looked at Buddy.
He looked back at me with the hopeful concentration of someone expecting cheese.
“Where are you?”
“On the ship.”
For a second, I genuinely assumed I had misunderstood her.
“What ship?”
Mom laughed.
“The ship, Daniel.”
A man announced something over a speaker behind her.
I caught the words safety drill.
My hand tightened around the phone.
“The cruise ship?”
“Yes.”
“You’re in Seattle?”
“No, honey, we boarded already.”
I sat down on the nearest kitchen chair.
Buddy immediately placed his chin on my knee.
“You boarded without me.”
Mom made the little impatient sound she used whenever somebody forced her to explain something she considered obvious.
“We had to change the arrangements.”
“When?”
“It got complicated.”
“When, Mom?”
“Daniel, please don’t start.”
I looked through the kitchen toward the living room.
The house was immaculate.
Decorative pillows sat at precise angles on the cream sectional.
Dad’s reading glasses were gone from the side table.
The framed family photograph above the fireplace showed Mom, Dad, Megan, and Kyle at Mount Rainier three summers earlier.
I had been working that weekend.
Nobody had ever suggested replacing the picture.
“Who is on the ship?”
She hesitated.
That hesitation answered before she did.
“Your father, Megan, Kyle, and me.”
I rubbed Buddy’s ear because my other hand needed something to do.
“So everybody.”
“Well, yes.”
“Everybody except me.”
“Daniel.”
“What happened to my reservation?”
“We changed it.”
“You changed my reservation?”
“It was easier that way.”
I laughed once.
There was nothing funny in it, and Mom went quiet.
I had booked the trip in February.
I had found the itinerary, compared cabins, coordinated everyone’s schedules, called the cruise line twice about Dad’s mobility concerns after his knee surgery, and fronted the initial deposits because Kyle was between jobs again and Megan said her credit card was “in a healing phase.”
Mom had eventually reimbursed me for her and Dad.
Megan had paid half of hers.
Kyle had paid nothing.
My own cabin had been the first one booked.
“What does easier mean?”
“We’ll discuss it when we get back.”
“No.”
“Daniel, we’re about to have the safety briefing.”
“Why am I not on the trip?”
Another pause.
Then Megan’s voice floated somewhere near Mom.
“Is that Burger Boy?”
Someone laughed.
It was Kyle.
The sound traveled through the phone more clearly than anything Mom had said.
I stopped rubbing Buddy’s ear.
Mom lowered her voice.
“Megan invited someone.”
“And?”
“There were cabin issues.”
“I had my own cabin.”
“Yes, but things changed.”
“What things?”
“Daniel, honestly, I don’t have time to do this right now.”
I stared at the refrigerator.
A sheet of yellow paper had been attached to it with a magnet shaped like a salmon.
DANIEL was written across the top in Mom’s handwriting.
Below it were feeding instructions for Buddy.
Two cups morning.
Two cups evening.
Medication Wednesday.
Walk before bed.
The final line said, Thanks!
Not sorry.
Not We’ll explain.
May you like
Thanks.
My suitcase was still visible from the kitchen.
