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along for the ride. Lucas was their dad’s unofficial campaign manager for his unannounced senatorial run, and he totally gave Mira the creeps. He kept their dad on such a tight leash that she rarely saw him unless she was scheduled in on his iCalendar or an emergency came up (like today) that usually required their dad to leave town ASAP for both crisis meetings and TV opportunities (“Good morning, America! Bill Monroe has something to say about North Carolina’s dwindling peach crop this year….”). The guy was like her dad’s own personal BlackBerry, whispering talking points in his ear, calling him at all times of day and night to talk about the campaign and to give advice. That advice extended to Mira’s and her brothers’ after-school activities and wardrobe as well. Lucas made sure every decision the family made gave the Monroe name more bang for its buck come election time. Mira hated all of it.
    Hayden, on the other hand, liked being in the thick of the political machine. He was interning for their dad this summer and was more gung ho about politics than ever. Mira didn’t know how he could stand seeing Lucas that much, but Hayden said the internship was too good an opportunity to pass up. The Monroe name would get him far, even if Hayden was determined not to trade on it.
    “I’ll bet you ten dollars tonight’s dinner has nothing to do with a natural disaster and everything to do with Emerald Cove’s centennial,” Hayden said as the two walked out to Buona Terra’s private patio overlooking the bay. Their family usually came to this Italian restaurant once a week; that’s how much their dad liked its lobster. “Lucas wouldn’t shut up today about ribbon-cutting ceremonies and two-hundred-dollars-a-plate state dinners, even though the centennial is over two years away.”
    “I’d rather this dinner be about the centennial than Dad coming to tell us he has to go away for six weeks,” Mira said as they reached their regular table. “Lucas can talk about the centennial all he wants as long as he doesn’t try to stick me on some high school planning committee. I have enough going on, and school hasn’t even started yet.”
    Between her honors classes, field hockey sessions, and her Emerald Prep charity club, the Social Butterflies, Mira’s schedule was overbooked. Sometimes she wished her commitments were things she actually looked forward to doing, rather than things she did just to look good. The Butterflies would give her brownie points on a college application, but Mira longed to find something she could claim as her own. She took the water goblet on the table and twirled it around, watching how the condensation pooled on the sides of the glass and wondering what it was that she was constantly searching for.
    Hayden’s eyebrows rose playfully as he removed his tie. “I think you and Savannah would be perfect for a centennial high school committee. No one knows how to bend people to their will better than you two.”
    Mira hit him in the arm with her linen napkin as their younger brother, Connor, walked in flanked by two of their dad’s drivers. The six-year-old looked like a pint-size version of their senator dad in his dress shirt and khakis—the standard uniform at his private elementary school, which started a few days earlier than Emerald Prep. Connor’s normally playful grin was replaced with a scowl.
    “I can’t believe I have to miss soccer. Again.” He slumped down in a seat at the table. “Where’s Dad got to go now?” His eyes lit up for a moment. “Is it Africa? Do you think Mom would let me go, too?” Conner was obsessed with going on a real safari. The safari ride at Disney World’s Animal Kingdom, which he had ridden a dozen times, just wasn’t cutting it.
    “Sorry, squirt,” said Hayden as he roughed up Connor’s mop of blond hair. “I don’t think it’s Africa. We have no clue what’s up with Dad.” Hayden looked at his watch in surprise. “Or where he