The Moon and More

by Sarah Dessen

  “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?”

&nb
sp; “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.”

  “Thanks for your help,” I replied.

  “Anytime.”

  Across the room, there was another thump as a painting hit the ceiling. “Whoa,” Esther said, as Benji walked away. “This place is nuts.”

  I looked at my watch again: almost four. “Yeah,” I said to Esther, gesturing for her to follow me. “Come on. I’ll catch you up.”

  Twenty minutes later, with Esther briefed and acquainting herself with Ivy’s equipment, I rejoined Daisy, who was putting the finishing touches on the flowers. “So,” she said, adjusting a rosebud that was sagging slightly. “What are you wearing for this gala?”

  “Wearing?” I looked down. “Oh, right. I do need to change at some point.”

  “Emaline.” She sighed. “Please tell me you have something cute and stylish already picked out.”

  “I’m a little busy,” I said, gesturing around me. “I’m just going to run home and grab something. If I don’t have to just wear this.”

  She gasped. “No. No way. Give me your keys, right now.”

  “Why?”

  Instead of replying she held out her hand. Then she wiggled her fingers, insistent. I handed them over. “Back in fifteen,” she called out over her shoulder. “Be ready to be fabulous.”

  “Nothing too crazy!” I hollered after her, but she ignored me. Of course.

  Ivy, now dressed in a simple navy sleeveless shift, appeared next to me, already jumpy. “What’s too crazy? What happened?”

  “Nothing,” I told her. “You look nice.”

  “I didn’t smoke,” she said. “If that’s what you’re asking.”

  “It was not,” I replied. “But I’m glad. Esther’s here. Let me introduce you.”

  “Who’s Esther?”

  “The film student,” I reminded her. “She’s been briefed and says she’s worked with equipment like this before.”

  “Oh my God,” she groaned, but she did follow me. “Tell me this is not going to be a total disaster.”

  “It’s going to be great,” I said. “Trust me.”

  At that moment, honestly, I was not entirely convinced. At four thirty, when there was still a painting not hung and the puddle in the kitchen was encroaching on the bar area, I was sure of it. By the time Daisy dragged me into the restroom to change at four fifty, I was saying some Hail Marys of my own.

  “I know you’re fashion-forward,” I told her, as she hung up the garment bag she was carrying, “but I really don’t want to look like a robot tonight.”

  “I would not dress you like a robot for an art opening,” she replied, offended. “At least, not this kind of art. Hurry up, you’ve got, like, four minutes.”

  I squirmed out of my clothes, kicking off my flip-flops as she unzipped the bag. “I totally planned to go home and shower and do my hair, I swear. But the time got away from me, and then there was traffic—”

  “Which is why,” she said, “you need a dress that stops it. Luckily, I had one.”

  As I turned I was apprehensive, half convinced that I would turn to see the pink candy number for the Beach Bash. Instead, I was surprised to see her holding a short and sleeveless ocean-blue dress, clearly vintage, with a full skirt. The color was bright but not loud; instead it looked cool, almost iridescent, like water itself. You sort of wanted to dive right into it.

  “Daisy,” I said, stepping closer and touching the bodice. “This is gorgeous. But do you think it might be too, you know … attention getting?”

  “You’re the one who always says you’re tired of being a background player,” she reminded me, turning it around and gesturing for me to step into it. I did, and she zipped up the back. “You want to be a star, you have to dress like one.”

  She turned me around again, stepping aside so I could see myself in the long mirror opposite the open stall. I wouldn’t say I looked like a star, but I wasn’t blending in with the scenery either. Plus, that color: I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. She gathered my hair in her hands and twisted it up, securing it with a couple of bobby pins she pulled from her pocket. “So? What do you think?”

  “It’s perfect,” I told her.

  “I know,” she replied, confidently. “Although I really wanted to do this metallic A-line thing I’ve been working on. But I resisted. When it comes to shoes, though, I will take no argument. You’re wearing these.”

  She turned around to the garment bag, unzipped a side pocket, and pulled out a pair of silver strappy sandals. Now these were Daisy. I raised my eyebrows. “Really?”

  “Emaline. Being a star also requires risk-taking shoes. It’s Fashion 101. Put them on.”

  I did. To my luck or detriment, we’d always worn the same size in just about everything. Looking down, I had to admit they kind of worked. As far as I knew. “I have never worn silver anything before in my life.”

  “You can thank me later,” she said, grabbing the bag and zipping it up. “You better run. It’s five o�
��clock.”

  “It is?” I looked at my watch. “Crap. Let’s go.”

  I literally did run down the hallway to the main room, hoping for only two things: that the paintings were all hung and, if not, that no one had yet arrived. It was my lucky day. I got both. And then, as a bonus, something else.

  “Doing the lights,” Morris called out. I looked over just in time to see him turn down the large, fluorescent ones overhead and plug in the cord connecting the smaller spots we’d been setting up all day. In an instant, the room went from bright and vast to small and intimate, each painting illuminated and defined. This was how I’d seen the Pavilion before. Such a difference, and for once, one I was more than happy to take full credit for.

  “There are already people out front,” Morris reported as Robin walked past me, tying on her apron. “Want me to open the door?”

  I looked at Ivy, who was standing by the cameras, a nervous expression on her face. It was weird to see her so jumpy, but at the same time kind of nice. A reminder that not everyone is what they seem right at first glance. You needed those, now and then.

  “Sure,” I told him, giving Ivy a reassuring nod. “Let them in.”

  * * *

  An hour later, the place was packed, we were already out of meatballs (“Everyone loves them,” Robin said, sighing, before sending out more stuffed mushrooms), and, judging by the clumps of people in front of each painting, it appeared that Theo’s concerns about traffic flow were not valid after all. For this reason, if nothing else, I was happy. Or as happy as I could be with two more hours to go.

  “These fish things are good,” Amber said to me, as we stood to the side of the bar, which I’d discerned had the best view of the entire room. Currently, I was watching Ivy as she took a lap around the room with Clyde, Esther following them with the camera. Theo, looking disgruntled, was sticking close to Clyde’s elbow. The only time I’d seen him brighten, in fact, was when we’d been going over the night’s schedule and Clyde mentioned he wanted to “make a few remarks about upcoming events” at some point during the evening. Best Hiring Moment Ever, I could almost hear Theo thinking. Public and showy; pomp at its best.

  “They’re shrimp puffs,” I told Amber now.