The Moon and More (31 page)

He took a quick glance at Clyde, who had his back to us, before moving closer and inching aside the drop cloth over the side of one painting so he could study it. “We figured it was the longest of long shots. But she’s been pressing him to consider participating in some kind of exhibition to be timed with the release of the film.”

“Really,” I said.

“It would, of course, be very limited. Exclusive. A handful of dates in major cities. The interest is there. It’s just been a matter of persuading him. Which it looks like maybe we did.” He pulled out his phone. “I’ve got to call Ivy.”

I looked back at Clyde, who was helping Morris slide the spare onto the wheel base. “Theo … I don’t think you should do that until you—”

“Hey, Ivy,” he said, either not hearing or just choosing not to, that drive or pushiness again drowning everything else
out. “It’s me. Listen, you’re not going to believe this …”

He walked away, still talking, into the darkness. I glanced back at Clyde and Morris, then at the paintings, lined up lengthwise in front of me. Who even knew what was on those canvases, or if any of us were supposed to see them at all. There was a reason people did things alone, under the cover of darkness. I shut the trailer doors.

“That should do it,” I heard Morris say a moment later. He was getting to his feet, wiping his hands on a rag. “Just don’t ride it too hard.”

“Will do,” Clyde told him. “Not going much farther anyway. Can I give you some cash or something, for your trouble?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Morris said, heading back over to me. “Where’s Sushi?”

“On the phone,” I said.

He grunted, as if this just figured, then walked back to the car. As I watched him go, Clyde joined me, locking the trailer doors.

“He’s a good kid,” he observed.

“He has his moments.”

I could see Theo now, walking back up into the light. He was still on his phone, his face animated. I thought of that night back at Gert’s with the milk crate, when I didn’t yet understand any of this. I wasn’t sure I did now, actually. But I knew enough to say, “You should know … he’s talking to Ivy. About the paintings. I tried to stop him.”

“It’s all right,” he said. “I figured as much as soon as I saw him get out of the car.”

“He thinks you might go on tour.”

I expected him to laugh, or dispute this. Instead, he just said, “Does he, now.”

“That’s crazy, right? I mean, you wouldn’t …” I studied his face, trying to read his expression. “You couldn’t really do something like that. Would you?”

He didn’t answer, and then Theo was right up on us, sliding his phone into his pocket. He seemed übercheerful as he said, “How we doing? Need any more help?”

“All fixed,” Clyde told him. “Thanks, though.”

“Sure. You want us to follow you back, help you unload?”

Clyde looked at me for a moment, then shook his head. “Nah. I’m good. I’ll just see you guys tomorrow.”

“Washroom, nine a.m.,” Theo said, pointing at him. “See you then!”

And then, Clyde was walking away, to his truck. Theo, still clearly on a high, basically bounced, Benji-like, back to my car. I was following him when I heard Clyde say, “Emaline.”

I turned around. “Yes?”

“You be careful out here, okay?” he said. “It’s late.”

I nodded. Even though it was only just after ten, I was pretty sure I knew what he meant. It was not all that different from Theo’s concern when we’d seen him. And yet totally not the same thing.

I started back to my car, where, at this distance, Theo, Daisy, and Morris were just outlines, not distinguishable from one another. You can never be sure of anyone until you’re close enough to see them clearly. Now I did the best I could, squinting into the oncoming headlights of someone else as they, too, made their way down this long, dark road.

JUST ANOTHER DAY in the sandbox. But at least this time I had company.

“Name, please?” I asked the woman driving the long car beside me. She was in a bathing suit and cover up, her shoulders that first-day-of-vacation pink, indicating they’d arrived early to hit the beach before check-in.

“Hopper,” she replied. Her husband, beside her, was chomping on an unlit cigar.

“Hopper,” I repeated, then reached behind me. A beat later, the envelope and welcome packet were in my hand. “Here you go. Can I offer you a cold drink for the ride?”

“Got a beer in there?” the husband asked, around his cigar.

“No, sorry,” I said cheerfully. “Just water, cola, or juice.”

“I’ll take a water,” the woman said.

One appeared by my elbow, and I gave it to her. “And you, sir?”

“Cola sounds good.”

Boom, and the bottle was in my hands. I delivered it, then smiled. “Any questions or concerns, our number is in bold on the front of the envelope. Enjoy your vacation!”

“Thank you,” the woman said, rolling up her window, and then they pulled away. Another happy customer.

I looked down at Benji, sitting on the stool behind me. “I think you’re improving on your time with every car.”

He smiled, pleased, then gestured to the cooler and milk crate full of envelopes in front of him, both within easy and quick reach. “It was just a matter of creating a more efficient system.”

“Or any system,” I pointed out. “I didn’t exactly have one.”

“We’re a good team,” he said.

“That we are,” I agreed, as the next car, a black Cadillac SUV, pulled up.

In the end, it had taken me only a couple of days to find my father a sitter for Benji. One of Rebecca’s friends, busy studying for the LSAT, was looking for something flexible. In truth, though, I kind of liked having him around, so I’d taken to picking him up myself a couple of days a week and giving him odd jobs around the office. Sure, he was ten, and couldn’t be trusted with any of the heavy lifting, figuratively or literally. But when it came to an extra set of hands and a fast response time, there was no one better.

“Name?” I asked the man in the SUV now.

“Perkins. Is it always this hot here?”

“Not always,” I replied, as Benji handed me the envelope and the bag. “But July can be pretty toasty. Can I offer you a cold drink for the ride to your property?”

The man, who was heavyset and had the A/C blasting hard enough that I could feel it from where I was standing,
wiped a hand across his face. “Water,” he said, like someone who had just crawled across the desert. Benji handed me one, which I delivered, and the guy cracked it and took a big gulp. “Man! That’s
cold
. Really hits the spot. Thanks.”

I nodded, then looked down at Benji, who gave me a thumbs-up. It had been his idea to partially freeze the waters on these superhot days before we came out. “Enjoy your vacation.”

The SUV pulled away, and I wiped a hand across my own forehead. It
was
hot, even for mid-July. Which I honestly couldn’t believe was already here. The summer was always too short, but this year it felt really fast. Especially if I did it by the numbers.

Days since Luke and I had broken up: twenty-nine. Days Theo and I had been together: Also twenty-nine. (I wasn’t proud of this, but the numbers didn’t lie. I couldn’t really count the demarcation, as nice as it was.) Days until the Beach Bash: twenty-eight. Days until I left for school: well, that one I wasn’t exactly counting. Even though I probably should have been.

When I
did
make myself think about it, my heart raced in that familiar way I remembered from the height of my application stress. But this wasn’t about what my future might be, like back then; it was about what it actually
was
. On some day in mid-August (I really needed to write it down) I’d be packing up my car with all my stuff and heading to East U, with this summer, like all the others of my life, behind me. I couldn’t even begin to picture that. So I wasn’t. Obviously.

I was not totally kidding myself, though. Despite the fact that I’d never before had a summer romance, I knew how the majority of them ended. Most of the girls I knew, other than Daisy, had fallen for a tourist boy at least once, with a few believing it was actually forever. Quickly—usually by October at the latest—they learned otherwise. Then, all they could do was hang out at Jump Java on the boardwalk, where everyone who’d been dumped long-distance convened in the fall, like some big, tremulous support group. Even if I had been planning to be in Colby, I did not intend to count myself among them.

Theo was going back to New York. I was leaving for East U. Done and done. If I wanted—and I didn’t—I could chart exactly how it would go if we tried to stay together. Lots of phone calls/Hi There! chats at first. Plans made for trips to visit each other, one of which
might
actually occur, although probably right before the Very End. Which would come after a marked trailing off of communication by one person—usually the tourist, although not always—followed by an awkward confrontation you could only
hope
would not be on video chat. Nobody looks good sobbing in screen resolution size. Just ask the girls at the table with the tissue box at Jump Java.

I was not up for this. Which was why the way things were with Theo and me now was just perfect for me. The summer would end, we’d go our separate ways, and that was that. If I was sad, I’d have all of our Best Memories Ever, painstakingly created, to flip through whenever I wanted. Until then, though, I chose to think about it as little as possible.

Still, I couldn’t ignore the fact that it was only a matter of time before our events went from the Best Fill-in-the-Blank Ever to the Last One. Which made me even more conscious of the
other
things I needed to be doing, like spending enough time with my mom so she didn’t sigh as dramatically or loudly whenever I left the house, seeing Daisy and Morris both together and separately, working extra hours at the office to make money for school, and hanging out with Benji. At least now, I could do these last two at once.

“Emaline,” I heard him say now. I looked down, and he nodded behind me. “Car.”

“Right.” I shook my head, getting back on track as a black convertible pulled up beside us. “Name, please?”

“You already forgot? Man. That’s
harsh
, Emaline.”

It was Luke. That he was even in the check-in line, in a car I didn’t recognize, was only one of the things that immediately threw me off. Add in the fact that he was dressed in a shirt and tie and the girl driving was a very pretty redhead, and I was unsettled.

“Sorry,” I said. “I just didn’t expect—”

“Luke!” Benji hollered, popping up beside me.

Luke jumped, surprised, and despite myself, I laughed. The fact that he was easily scared was legendary. Leaping out at him from behind things just to hear him shriek like a little girl—we called it Gotcha!, a game he’d learned from his cousins Wes and Bert—had been one of my favorite pastimes. “Whoa,” he said, flushing, then laughed as well. “You scared me, dude!”

“Sorry,” Benji told him. He was literally jumping up and down, like a dog, to get a glimpse of him. “Guess what? I’m working with Emaline now!”

“Really?” Luke said. Beside him, the girl—who was wearing a short flowered dress and cowboy boots and did, actually, look sort of familiar—smiled. “Hope she’s paying you the big bucks.”

“Kinda.” Benji looked at me. “Did you ask their name yet?”

“Um …” I said.

“Best,” the girl said. “I think the property’s called Emerald Belle or something?”

Quick as a flash, Benji handed her the envelope. “Do you want a cold drink, too? We have water, juice, and soda. But no beer.”

Luke looked at me, raising his eyebrows. I said, “I know. He’s good. With him here, they won’t even notice when I leave next month.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” he replied. Which was nice enough to distract me from wondering how serious this relationship had gotten, considering he was actually wearing a tie for her. For about two seconds. “So. How you doing, Emaline?”

“I’m good,” I said. “You?”

“Can’t complain,” he said with a shrug. “Actually, I can. I’m in a tie here.”

“I noticed,” I said, raising my eyebrows. “What’s the occasion?”

I was not being nosy, just making conversation. Okay, maybe being a little nosy. But he’d brought it up first. God,
this was weird. He said, “Brooke’s bachelorette weekend. We’re heading up the transportation team, getting the rental settled, and doing airport runs.”

“In a tie,” I said.

“My mother’s idea.”

“I’m so surprised.”

“Aren’t you, though?”

I laughed again. It was so odd that after a month apart—and an awkward split, to boot—Luke and I could be right back like this within moments. Maybe it was just part of growing up with someone. Once you have a rhythm and stay with it long enough, it’s not hard to find again.

I gestured for Benji to hand me a water, then handed it to the girl. “You should have a great week. Although kind of a hot one.”

“Emaline, this is Jacqueline,” Luke said. “Jacqueline, Emaline.”

We smiled and nodded at each other. I said to Benji, “You have a Mountain Dew in there?”

“Yup!”

He handed me one, and I passed it across to Luke. “Your favorite breakfast.”

“And lunch and dinner,” he agreed, setting it in the holder. “We better head on. If I don’t get out of this tie soon I’m going to choke.”

“Just keep your shirt on,” I told him. He made a face, Jacqueline waved, and then they were pulling away, ending our first true run-in since the breakup. He seemed to be doing just
fine. Which was what I wanted. Because I was fine, too. Right?

We had two cars in a row behind them, one with a million questions about vegetarian options on the island, the other a minivan that cleared out our remaining drink supply. Forget wiping my forehead; by the time we had another break, I was outright sweating.

“This is brutal,” I said to Benji. “I feel like we’re being punished or something.”

“Cold towel?” he asked me.

“What?”

He opened up the cooler and rummaged around before pulling a rolled-up washcloth from the ice. “Try this.”

I did, putting it to my face, and almost moaned it felt so good. “Wow. That’s
amazing
. Thank you.”