"It wasn't the first time," Amber said.
"It might as well have been." Willow's face lit up.
Amber took another bite of shortcake. "Art's taking me to Nantucket."
"Far out! Moby Dick."
"Shrimp cocktail, gin and tonic—a great way to end the summer. Want to come?"
"End the summer?" Willow blinked. "No. I mean, I'm working. I don't want to end the summer. A terrible idea."
"It is." Amber sipped champagne gravely. "It isn't really the end. Art doesn't want to go until he finishes the outside of his barn. Two weeks, he thinks. But after that, it will be the first or second week in August. We might as well see a few things on the way home—and have a week or so before school."
"School?" Willow twirled her glass. "I'm not going back," she said. "Let this be a formal announcement: I hereby renounce Stanford AND the privileges associated thereunto AND all obligation to write useless papers AND all requirements to be stuck in crowded rooms with people who are dumb, bored, or lying."
"How sweet of you," Amber said.
"Present company excepted, of course."