What had distracted him? Was Bryce still in the foyer? Why didn’t he just go away?
I forced myself to focus on the conversation. “Do I think that’s a doable thing? Well, I don’t really know.
All machines use energy, right? Even real efficient ones. And that energy has to come from somewhere….
What if the machine generated it itself?Chet asked, but one eye was still on the foyer.
How could it do that?Neither of them answered me.
Instead, my father stuck out his hand and said, “Good evening, Rick. Nice of you to have us over.”
Mr. Loski pumped my dad’s hand and joined our group, making little comments about the weather.
When that topic was all dried up, he said, “And wow, that yard of yours has really come along.
I told Chet here that we ought to hire him out. He really knows his pickets, doesn’t he?”
He was joking. I think. But my father didn’t take it that way, and neither did Chet.
I was afraid of what might happen next, but then Mrs. Loski tinkled a little dinner bell and called, “Hors d’oeuvres, everybody!”
The hors d’oeuvres were delicious. But when my father whispered that the teeny-tiny black berries on top of the crackers
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