Cretaceous Sea

'Mr. Green has a lot on his mind,' said Joe. 'Your best course is just to do your job,' Joe lowered his voice to scarcely above a whisper, ' and stay out of his way.' 5

A LIMOUSINE PICKED UP CON OUTSIDE OF HER APARTMENT

building. A burly, dark-haired man got out, took her bag, and opened a door for her. Her father and Sara were seated inside, drinking champagne. Sara had kicked off her shoes and snug-gled close to Con's father. 'Constance!' she said gaily, hold-ing up her glass. 'We're on vacation!' Con was already regretting her decision to go, but she forced a smile onto her face. 'Hi, Daddy. Hi, Sara.'

'What did you tell your mother about tonight?' asked John Greighton.

'I told her we were going out to dinner, just the two of us,' lied Con. 'I said I'd be back before eleven.'

'I wonder how you'll explain your two weeks' worth of tan,' said John, cracking a smile. 'This time travel thing's a great idea; I won't miss a single meeting tomorrow.'

Sara ran her fingers through John's hair. 'And we'll have two weeks together.' Con recognized Sara's gesture—she was staking her claim.

'You sure you want me along, Daddy? I'll just be a wet blanket.'

'Nonsense, you and Sara need to get acquainted. You're not a child anymore, it's time you took your proper place.'

'Where would that be?'

'Why... by my side, along with Sara. Maybe as a kid you resented how busy I was, but now you're old enough to understand. This is the perfect opportunity for us to spend time together. For you to get to know me better.'

'And you won't miss a single meeting,' said Con.

'That's not the point!' said John irritably. 'I spent a mil-lion Euros so you could come. That proves something.'

'Just kidding, Daddy. If you spent more time with me, you'd know.'

'Come on, Constance,' said Sara, 'it was very nice of your dad to invite you.' Nick Zhukovsky spoke over the intercom from the driver's seat, which was partitioned from the passenger compartment by a glass panel. 'Mr. Greighton, for security reasons, I'll be blacking out the windows.' The windows and the glass par-tition darkened until they were opaque. Con stared at her reflection in the black glass. 'Well, this is cozy.'

'Try a glass of champagne,' said her father. 'It'll relax you.'

'Maybe I will.'

'Good. Sara, pour Constance a glass.'

Con took a little sip of the wine and tried to decide if she liked it. The bubbles were nice, but she expected it to be sweet and it was not. Still, she continued to sip as she con-templated the man she called Daddy. His face was not the one she remembered as a child, though the eyes were the same. His chin was a little like the old one, but the rest of his features had been redone. They looked like they had come out of a fashion magazine, which was undoubtedly the case. It was the face of a stranger. She mused that, as a younger girl, she would have given anything to be with her father. Then, she loved him with the desperate yearning of the ignored. Now, she wasn't sure how she felt. So many disappointments lay between them, perhaps it was too late for closeness. Yet the old longings rose up from deep where she had banished them. They caught her off guard, and she found herself thinking, Maybe this time will be different.

The three of them sat in awkward silence, watching the bubbles rise in their glasses. Finally, John said,

'Giving any thought to college?'

'I'm going to Harvard this fall.'

'Oh, of course,' replied Con's father. 'I remember. Do you know what you're going to study?'

'I'm thinking about art history.'

'Then this trip should be just die thing, seascapes and all.'

'Too bad I can't tell anyone about them.'