The power of Peter Green's personality was such that everyone in the room soon mirrored his festive mood. Rick dismissed his guilty fears about his parents' accident and began to feel excited again about the trip. By his second glass of champagne, he was even ready to chat with Green himself. When Rick caught Green's eye, he said, "Now I understand why we're going so far downwhen."
"I'm glad," said Green.
"Just before the K-T event, it's perfect."
Green got a confused expression on his face, as if he didn't understand what Rick had just said. Rick clarified himself. "I mean, the asteroid impact will wipe everything clean. It'll be as if we were never there."
"Oh yes," said Green, "of course. Well, we can't be too careful, can we? By the way, I need to discuss your job. I'll need your help if I'm going to get to Greighton. I can't do that with his daughter hanging around. I want you to keep her away from camp as much as possible. That's the main reason you're on board, to arrange trips for her."
"Won't Mr. Greighton and his fiancee be interested in the sights also?"
"Maybe one trip, if that. We've researched them pretty well. They're more interested in the birds and the bees than wildlife," said Green with a knowing look. "Greighton's only other interest is business. When he talks business, his fiancee gets bored. She'll go off sunbathing or swimming."
"I don't think swimming would be a good idea," said Rick. "The Interior Seaway had some pretty dangerous creatures in it—mosasaurs, crocodiles, and not all the plesiosaurs ate fish."
"Don't worry, we have a protected beach. But it's good you're on your toes. We'll need that expertise." Green abruptly turned toward James and Pandit and began to dis-cuss provisions. Rick felt that he had been dismissed and wandered over to the food cart.
Joe was there, making himself a sandwich. "Trying to schmooze with the boss?" he asked in a joking tone.
"Was it that obvious? Then I guess I'm not very good at it."
"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."
"What / want to see," said Sara, "is a real beach, like in those old movies."
"How about our trip to Miami?" reminded John.
"That beach was fake, part of the sea wall. We couldn't see the sunset from our hotel balcony because of that stupid wall."
"The sun sets in the west," countered John.
"So? All we saw was concrete. And the crowds ..."
"It was packed," agreed John, "considering it was a 'pri-vate beach.' Well, we won't have that problem where we're going. We'll have the whole beach—the whole world—to ourselves."
"That's good," said Sara with a coy smile, "because I didn't pack a suit." Con flushed at that remark. "You can always borrow mine," she said with mock solicitude.
"I don't think I'd fit into the top."
John Greighton let out an exasperated sigh that terminated the exchange.
"Daddy, what are you looking forward to on this trip?"
"I just want to relax with the two women in my life. I only hope they'll get along."
"We will, John," said Sara.
"We'll be just like sisters," said Con, holding out her glass. "Big sister, would you pour me some more champagne?"
Sara looked at John for permission. "What the hell," he said, "she's on vacation." AS EVENING BEGAN, Rick finished up helping Pandit load provisions into the time machine. Most of the items con-sisted of cookware, foodstuffs, wine, and liquor in ad-dition to a large tent and a set of folding cots. Joe kept a running tally of the weight of everything that went into the machine. He also was very particular where the items were loaded in order to distribute the weight evenly. Each time Rick entered the machine, he took an op-portunity to examine it. His first impression was how finely constructed the machine looked. It lacked the makeshift appearance of a prototype. Only the partitions around the control center looked to be last-minute addi-tions. The rest had the level of finish superior to any car or plane he had ever ridden in.