The Moon and More (41 page)

“Why do you keep harping on that?”

“Because it’s the truth?”

“Emaline,” he said, sounding tired. “Jobs like this are earned, not given. It’s not like bringing towels to people, okay?”

Ouch. “And you think that’s all I do.”

“I think,” he said, picking up the camera again, “that you have no idea what it’s like to live in the real world.”

“Which is New York,” I said, clarifying.

“Which is anywhere other than this small, coastal burg, where you know every single person by name and nothing ever changes.”

“Burg?” I said.

He snapped a picture of the canvas. “It means small town.”

“I know what it means. I did well on my verbal, remember?”

“Clearly.
You
got into Columbia.”

“Who’s harping now?” I asked. “And what does that have to do with this?”

“It has
everything
to do with this,” he replied, turning to look at me. “Emaline, you’re a really smart girl on paper. And it’s not your fault you’ve done some not-so-smart things.”

I was speechless. Literally: no words.

“But the truth is, you haven’t had a lot of outside influences, people to show you there is another way,” he continued.
“I’m here now. And I’m telling you, you do
not
want to take this job with Ivy. It will be a mistake.”

“You think I made a mistake turning down Columbia.” Now, apparently, I could talk. Barely.

He rolled his eyes. “You’re a girl from Colby High School who got into the one of the best schools in the country. It was a dream come true.”

“Not
my
dream, though.”

Another eye roll. “This is exactly my point. You don’t know what’s out there, Emaline. If you even had the slightest idea, you’d understand what you’re missing.”

Instead of replying, I looked at him, closely, standing there before me. This boy, in his jeans and expensive fitted T-shirt, hipster sneakers, owner of sport coats. Someone to whom everything had to be Big and Special, or not worth his time.

But that is the hard thing about the grand gesture. Once you pull off one, what’s left to do but start planning the next? Get used to pomp and anything less is just a disappointment. Why stop at the Best Summer Ever when you could try for the Best Ever After? The truth was, there was no way everything could be the Best. Sometimes, when it came to events and people, it had to be okay to just
be
. I’d already explained that to my father. I wasn’t sure I had it in me to do it again.

And it was in that moment, a plain and simple one, that I knew what he’d said was right. I didn’t know very many people like him. But l was beginning to think that was okay. One was probably enough.

“You know, I think I’m going to go now,” I said. “I have a lot of work to do.”

“So you’re really going to do this to me,” he called out, as I walked away. “You’re taking the job.”

“Yep,” I said over my shoulder.

I heard him sigh. “You’re not who I thought you were, Emaline.”

Finally. Something we could agree on. “No,” I told him. “I’m not.”

And then I was walking, towards that open door that looked out on the boardwalk. It was late afternoon, still sunny, and I could see ocean. Funny how now that I knew I didn’t have to make the ideal exit, this one came damn close anyway.

“EMALINE? WHERE DO you want us?”

I turned, looking over at all the activity before me. Finally, I located Robin, from Roberts Family Catering, standing by the back door, a dish wrapped in foil in her arms. “You can use the kitchen as a staging area,” I told her. “What we don’t have passed we’ll put on the big table up at the front.”

“Right,” she said, gesturing to the girl behind her, who was pulling a cooler. They started across the floor, into the increasing chaos: guys from Everything Island, setting up small tables and chairs, Morris stacking beer and wine by the bar, Benji unloading flowers we’d bought at Park Mart, and Daisy arranging them in every vase I’d been able to get my hands on.

“Do we have cups?” Morris called out to me.

“Didn’t I give them to you?”

He looked around. “Ummm …”

“Under the main table,” Benji called out as he passed, dwarfed by a huge bundle of lilies. “They were in the way.”

Morris bent down, locating them. “Thanks, dude.”

“You’re welcome. Be right back!”

And then, he was gone again, the only one truly running,
although we probably all should have been. I looked at my watch. It was two thirty, which meant I had only about two and a half hours to somehow pull all this together. The crazy thing was, after all I’d already managed to accomplish in the last few days, I was thinking I might actually do it.

It was hard to say what was the biggest surprise about working for Ivy. Not that she was a hard-ass, or a demanding, exacting perfectionist. These things I already knew. What still caught me off guard was the last thing I would have expected: it was fun.

Sure, she’d snapped at me a few times. And if you even tried to talk to her in the morning before she had any coffee, you got what you deserved. But underneath the brittle exterior, there was this crackling, tangible energy, so different from anyone I’d ever been around. I’d long watched my mother, grandmother, and even Margo as they worked, taking lessons on how to deal with problems. But Ivy was like a brand-new master class. I wasn’t going to call it the Best Job Ever. I sure did like it, though.

“Watch the ceiling!” I heard her yell now, and turned to the other side of the Pavilion, where she was overseeing the guys we’d hired to hang the canvases. This was supposed to have been done the day before, but Theo and Clyde had been so indecisive about what to include we’d ended up cutting it way close. “I said
high
. Not as high as it could go, just go ahead and hit the ceiling.”

There was a clunk as the painting being hoisted, one of the plant close-ups, bumped the air duct again. “Whoops,” one of the guys said.

“Whoops,” she repeated flatly. Then she looked at me. “Tell me again this is somehow not going to be a total disaster.”

“Everything’s under control,” I replied. “Maybe you should let me take over. You still have to get ready so you can be here before anyone arrives, right?”

She looked up at the painting again, then the line of them already hung. “I’m still not sure how I’m going to schmooze this party and film at the same time.”

“You’re not,” I said. “That’s why we have Esther.”

“Who is a college film student,” she reminded me. “Not exactly an award-winning cinematographer.”

“You said yourself it was mostly going to be crowd shots and candids,” I pointed out. “You already got all the pieces and the interviews. This is just bonus.”

She didn’t look convinced. However, she was also not still clenching her jaw, which was progress. “Fine. I’m going to put on a black dress and say some Hail Marys.”

“Perfect. I’ll see you back here at four thirty sharp. And don’t smoke any cigarettes. You’ll just stink and hate yourself.”

“Yes, Mom,” she groaned, starting for the door.

As she left, I looked over to see Morris, who had watched this exchange, now looking at me. “What?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

I felt something bump me, hard, from behind, then turned to find myself looking down at a small, flowering shrub. “Sorry,” Benji said, his voice muffled by the leaves. “I can’t really see around this.”

I took it from him, placing it on a table behind me. “Safety first. Stick to the short stuff.”

“Got it,” he said, running back outside.

I smiled, watching him, as he approached the open door. Then I saw Theo, standing just inside, scanning the room as he took in all the bustle. I took a breath, then focused on my clipboard. Still, I could feel it when he spotted me.

To say things had been awkward between us for the last few days was an understatement. Ever since our argument and ensuing breakup in this same space, whenever we were forced to interact—which, because Clyde was crucial to both of our various tasks, was pretty often—the formality was palpable. It might have been the hottest month of summer, but with us in close quarters, the temperature dropped noticeably.

Ivy didn’t seem aware of this, or if she was, she didn’t care. All she was focused on was work. But Clyde, surprisingly, appeared alternately bemused and bothered by the friction. When he’d asked me if something had happened between Theo and me, I’d said only that we’d split up by mutual decision and could easily work together, and it was nothing to worry about. I assumed Theo was sticking to a similar story. Not that I was about to ask.

“Hey,” Daisy called out to me now. I looked over to where she was standing on a stepladder, arranging hydrangeas in a vase. “Are we going for vertical or horizontal pop with these?”

“Pop?” I said.

She sighed. “Pop, as in zing, wow factor, eye-catching. Height or width?”

I just looked at her.

“Oh, never mind, I’ll figure it out myself,” she said, turning back to them.

“Thank you,” I called out. I looked back at my list, crossing off both
Flower pick up
and
Bar stock.
Which left only about a hundred other things. My phone buzzed and I pulled it out, glancing at the screen. It was a text from my father.

Please tell Benji to be ready to go at 4
.

OK, I wrote back. Will do
.

This exchange was typical since Leah had returned to Connecticut for work a few days earlier. If he and I had to communicate, it was via text, and only about Benji. Which was just fine with me. I’d said everything else I needed to already.

“There’s not enough space here. Do you not understand that we need room for people to gather so they can actually
see
the paintings?”

And this, ladies and gentlemen, was how Theo now spoke to me. I turned and looked at the wall he was studying. “The tables are too close?”

“There shouldn’t even be tables,” he said. “This is an art show, not a wedding reception.”

“Where are people supposed to put their drinks and food?”

“They hold them. While they look at the
paintings
, which is the whole reason they are here in the first place.” He shook his head, walking over to the wall. I followed him, watching as he seized one of the tables and started dragging it farther into the middle of the room. “What we need is space. Not to fill it.”

“Ivy and I are handling the party,” I told him, stopping the table with my hand. “You just focus on Clyde and the work.”

“This
is
about the work,” he shot back, nudging it again.
“Trust me. I’ve actually been to an art show or two. You want more room there.”

For a moment, we just stared at each other. It’s a table, I reminded myself. But, man, were these little battles exhausting.

“Emaline?” It was Luke, walking up behind him, pushing a wet-vac,
COLBY REALTY
printed on its side in marker. “Your mom told me you needed this?”

“Yes,” I said, “thank God. Something’s leaking back by the sink in the kitchen. Can you just stick it back there?”

“Got it,” he said, glancing at Theo, who had taken advantage of this exchange and was moving the table around me. “Need anything else?”

“Everything else,” I replied. “But I’m fine. Hey, you’re coming tonight, right?”

He didn’t hear me, as right then Morris upended a bag of ice into a metal cooler, the noise drowning out everything. Once Luke pushed the vacuum past us, Theo muttered, “I see we’re back on good terms with the boyfriend. That was fast.”

“He’s helping out,” I said. “Just like everyone else here.”

“Must be nice,” he replied. “Meanwhile I’m trying to successfully curate and launch a show totally on my own.”

“Is that why,” I said, pushing the table back, “you’re rearranging the furniture?”

“You don’t know what you’re doing!” He threw up his hands. “Fine. Leave no room for anyone to gather and discuss. It’s your funeral.”

And with that, he stomped off. I adjusted the table, getting it back where I wanted it, then went back to my list. A moment later, I felt a tap on my shoulder.
Dear God
, I thought,
bracing myself for another skirmish. But it was just Esther, the girl who was helping us film the party, standing there in a red sundress. She was a friend of Auden’s and Maggie’s I knew from high school, currently in her second year of film school in California.

“Hi,” she said. “I’m early, sorry.”

“You’re perfect,” I told her. “Come over here out of the chaos. Ivy left some stuff for me to go over with you.”

We started over to the small bench I’d turned into my mobile office, passing Benji, who was now helping Morris rip open packs of napkins. Watching them, I had a flash of that other party, all the way back at the beginning of the summer, when I’d been forced to nag Morris to do a job he was actually getting paid for. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who’d changed a bit since then.

“Hey,” I said to Benji, “your dad says to be ready to go at four, okay?”

He looked at me. “Four? But the party starts at five.”

I shrugged. “Just delivering the message.”

“I want to be here, though,” he persisted, looking at Morris, then back at me. “Can’t I stay?”

“Sounds like he already has plans for you, bud,” I told him.

This, clearly, was not good enough. “This sucks. I’ll be the only one missing everything.”

“Who’s missing everything?” Luke asked, walking up. He nodded at Esther, who nodded back. Small towns.

“Me,” Benji grumbled. “My dad’s making me leave early.”

“Bummer. I hear you,” Luke told him. “I can’t make it either.”

I looked at him. “No?”

“Already had plans. Thanks for the invite, though,” he said, ruffling Benji’s hair. “Me and little man here will have to just get the recap later.”

“I don’t
want
the recap. I want to stay.”

“Hey,” Luke said. Benji looked at him, sullen. “Don’t hassle your sister. She’s got enough on her plate. Right?”

Benji bit his lip, scuffing his foot on the floor. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Luke caught my eye, smiled. “Good luck with everything.”