“Oh, right,” my mom said, after I called her back. “Moving it. Wait, will it fit through the door?”
“Don’t even joke about that,” I said. Of course I hadn’t considered this. “It has to. My point is, I’m not going to be able to get it to Sand Dollars by myself.”
“I’d help, but I have a ten o’clock,” she said. She scanned the office through the conference room windows. “What about Rebecca?”
I gave her a doubtful look. “Have you ever seen her lift anything? Look at her biceps. They’re spindly.”
“True.” She sighed. “Well, just leave it for now, I guess, and we’ll—”
Just then, though, the cavalry arrived. Or, Morris and Benji did. Margo, who was also not known for her upper-body strength, was right behind them.
“Wow!” Benji said, as soon as he spotted the Slusher. “Is that a smoothie maker?”
“Sort of,” I said.
“The Slusher Pro,” Morris observed admiringly. “Cool.”
“You know the Slusher Pro?”
“They have one at Tallyho,” he told me. I just looked at him. “What? I’ve been picking up some shifts there.”
“You have?”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” he said. “I do work, you know?”
“That does not sound like the Morris I know,” I said, studying his face. “Who have you been talking to?”
“Nobody,” he said.
I just looked at him.
“I bumped into Clyde at the Gas/Gro last night,” he said with a shrug. “He said he had some odd jobs that needed doing. I figure between that, Tallyho, and Ivy, I’ll be finally making some bank. Maybe enough for a trip to Savannah this fall.”
“Savannah?” I raised my eyebrows. “So you’re not doing that thing we talked about at my house the other day?”
“I don’t know,” he replied. “I just figured I’d try getting off the couch first, and go from there.”
I smiled. “You keep surprising me.”
“Yeah, well.” Morris was not one for mushy moments, especially in public or daylight. “Anyway, I’m headed over to the Washroom right now.”
“Wow,” I said, trying not to sound as shocked as I felt. “That’s great. Although it leaves me out of luck. I was hoping you’d have time to help me take this to Ivy’s.”
“I can help!” Benji said, jumping up and down. “Can I help?”
“Absolutely,” I told him. “But I think we might need more muscle than just us.”
“Oh, right.” He glanced at Rebecca, who looked back at us, surely wondering why we all kept looking at her, and her spindly arms, so disdainfully. “Hey, I know! We can ask Luke.”
“Luke?” I said.
“Yeah. I just saw him outside. Hold on!”
And then, before I could stop him, he was running out the door, letting it slam behind him. A beat later, it opened again, revealing an attractive, dark-haired woman in black pants, a flowing shirt, and strappy sandals. When she saw me, she broke into a wide smile.
“Emaline! Hello!” As she came closer, I realized it was my stepmother. “Joel said you might be here. I’m so happy to see you!”
Over her shoulder I saw my mom trying to place her face. “Leah,” I said, loud enough so she’d hear. “I didn’t even know you were coming.”
“No? Well, I suppose it was a bit last minute.” She stepped back, holding me at arm’s length. “Oh, you just look so grown up! I can’t believe you’re going to college in a few weeks. Are you excited? Nervous?’
“A bit of both, actually.”
“I’m sure.” As she squeezed my hands, still smiling warmly, I was reminded of how much I’d actually liked her, the few times we’d crossed paths. “But you’ll do great. We’re so proud of you.”
Considering the events the morning, this was a bit hard to believe. Still, I appreciated her saying it. “Thanks.”
“Of course. Oh! That reminds me. Before I forget …” She reached into her bag, digging around for a minute before finally pulling out a blue envelope. She held it to her chest, glancing at the door for a minute before saying, “First off, I have to say I know this is horrifically late. It’s so embarrassing. But as I’m sure you’ve heard, we’ve been, um, dealing with a lot since the spring. And for what it’s worth, I have had it since June. I never quite got it in the mail.”
She held out the envelope, and I took it, aware of the fact that both my mom and sister were now watching from their respective offices. I wanted to just thank her and open it later, in private, but she was looking at me so expectantly I knew she was waiting for the big reveal. I slid my finger under the flap and eased out a card.
ON YOUR GRADUATION, it said on the front, in raised, flowing script. Inside were a few equally overworded lines about “moving into the future with the greatest of hopes and dreams ahead,” beneath which was a big Congratulations! Love, Dad, Leah, and Benji. A check, folded, was taped to the inside.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I said, suddenly embarrassed.
“Of course we did! It’s a milestone.” She pointed a finger at me. “Just promise me you’ll spend it on something fun, okay? It doesn’t have to be for books or school stuff. Unless, you know, you want it to be.”
“Thank you,” I said.
She smiled, nodding, and I was finally able to put the card in my pocket, just as Benji returned, this time with Luke in tow. Despite everything, I still got that same little jump in my gut at the sight of him. Like over all those years he’d worn a groove in my heart so deep it would always be there.
“Here he is!” Benji called out. “He was just about to leave but I stopped him.”
“Too bad for you,” I said to Luke.
“Hey, I was told margaritas were involved,” he replied. “That’s all I needed to hear.”
“It’s nine in the morning,” I pointed out.
“Do you want my help or not?”
Leah reached out to Benji, pulling him into her hip. “What do you say, bud? Ready to go get some breakfast?”
“But I’m helping Emaline and Luke,” he protested.
“Oh, it’s okay,” I told him. “Breakfast sounds much better than dealing with this.”
“But it’s my job,” Benji said, turning to me. “Right?”
Leah raised her eyebrows.
“He’s been doing some stuff around here for me,” I explained. “He’s been a big help.”
“I came up with a new drink and packet system,” Benji chimed in. “I froze the waters!”
“That’s great, honey,” she said, glancing at me. “But I’m sure Emaline will understand if you want the day off to show me around Colby.”
“Oh, sure,” I said quickly. “Go have fun. Trust me, the work will still be here.”
Benji did not look convinced or enthusiastic. But as his mom slid her arm over his shoulder, he allowed himself to be turned towards the door. Leah called out to Margo, “Did I sign everything you needed back at the house? Or is there more?”
“Nothing right now,” my sister replied. “We’ll get the rest of it when we meet this afternoon. In the meantime, I’ll work on finding you all a place for the next few nights.”
“Oh, that would be wonderful, thank you so much.”
“My pleasure,” Margo told her, and then they were leaving, Benji dragging his feet slightly as he went.
Once the door shut behind them, I asked Margo, “Did you know she was coming?”
“I knew it was planned for some point. But it was a surprise to see her today. It’s good for getting the paperwork going though, so I’m glad.” She lowered her voice. “Hey. Are you okay? That thing with your father seemed sort of intense earlier, back at the house.”
“I’m fine,” I told her. To Luke I said, “So you really think you’re up for this?”
“Moving a margarita machine?” He snorted. “Please. How hard can it be?”
About twenty minutes later, outside of Sand Dollars, we were finding ou
t. Not only was it heavy—blame that huge motor—but also of the most awkward size, really hard to get a good grip on, well, anywhere. At Colby Realty, we’d recruited a couple of maintenance guys and Rebecca and her spindly arms to help get it into the back of the truck. Here, though, we were on our own.
“If I get a hernia,” Luke huffed from the step above me, trying to move backwards, “I am suing your entire family.”
“Maybe it would help if you took your shirt off,” I suggested. “It seems to work with the pool cleaning, yes?”
“Do you want me to drop this?” he asked, nodding at his end of the machine.
“Please, God, no,” I said, laughing.
“I didn’t think so.” He grunted, going up another step. “So typical. We’re together for a half hour and you’re already trying to get me naked.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I said. “Besides, don’t you have a girlfriend?”
He glanced at me. “Where’d you hear that?”
“It’s all the talk at Tallyho.”
He rolled his eyes.
“I’m kidding. Amber told me. Plus, I did see you guys together, remember? You were in a tie for her.”
“The tie was for my mother,” he corrected me.
“Still,” I said. There was a pause, which might have been awkward were we not already in duress. “I’m happy for you.”
“Yeah, well,” he said, clearly uncomfortable. He wasn’t the only one. But it had to mean something that we’d gotten to this point. “Thanks.”
By now, I was full-on sweating, both arms straining and burning, legs wobbly. I was pretty sure my lungs popping like balloons was next. Just in time, we made it to the top of the steps. Hallelujah.
“Oh … my … God,” Luke panted once we put the machine down. He bent over, hands on his knees. “And we’re not even done yet.”
“No more stairs,” I told him. “Although we do have to deal with another difficulty.”
“What’s that?”
“Not what. Who.”
I hit the doorbell. A moment later, the intercom crackled. “If you’re selling something,” a loud voice said, already annoyed, “I’m not interested. Actually, even if you’re not selling anything. I’m not interested, period.”
Luke raised his eyebrows.
“Hi, Ivy! It’s me,” I called out cheerfully. “Emaline.”
Pause. Then, flatly, “Theo doesn’t live here anymore.”
“I’m here on official realty office business,” I told her. “Can you buzz me in?”
A pause. Then, the lock clicked open. We were in.
Or the door was open. We still had to heave the machine over the threshold, then get it down the hallway to the wet-bar area in the living room. Compared to the stairs, it was much easier. Compared to just about anything else, though, it was not.
“How big is this room?” Luke, walking backwards, panted at me, as we passed one of the couches.
“Only a little farther,” I told him. “You’re going to need to turn right about … now.”
He pivoted and I did the same, until we both were parallel with the countertop. “Hoisting and praying on three,” he said. “One, two, three.”
With all the strength I had left, which wasn’t much, I pushed my end onto the counter. Finally. My arms were shaking again. Across from me, Luke’s face was red, his shirt damp. We were both breathing hard, recovering, when I heard Ivy’s voice.
“What the hell is that?” she demanded, from the hallway.
“Our cause of death,” Luke told her. “Be sure to tell the coroner.”
I laughed, still breathless, which made me start coughing. Pretty soon, it advanced to hacking. Luke glanced around, then grabbed a glass from the bar. He filled it and handed it to me. I sucked it down, then told Ivy, “It’s a margarita machine.”
“I don’t need a margarita machine,” she said.
“With something like this, is it really about need, though?” Luke asked her.
She just looked at him. “Let me rephrase. I don’t want a margarita machine.”
“Yes, but the owners of this house do. They ordered this way back in April.” I turned, wiping a smudge from the main engine barrel. “You might use it.”
“Unless it can shoot and edit footage and help run my production company, I doubt it,” she grumbled. “Find me a machine that will do that, and I’ll pay for it myself.”
Luke looked at me. I said, “I think it just makes drinks, actually.”
“Too bad.” Ivy sighed as, from down the hallway, there was a loud bang, followed by another. She wiped at her face, seemingly not hearing it. One more bang. Finally, she saw we’d noticed and explained, “The screen door in my bedroom is busted. I get percussion when it’s windy. Which is always.”
“It’s broken?” I asked. “Why didn’t you call us to come fix it?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, flipping her wrist. “Too busy dealing with arrogant artists and traitorous employees. A girl’s only got so much time in the day.”
“Wow,” Luke said, under his breath.
Ivy looked at him. “Aren’t you the pool guy?”
“Yep,” he replied. “I wear many hats.”
“That seems to be the norm around here,” she observed, nodding at me. “This one has a habit of popping up everywhere I turn.”
“She’ll do that,” he agreed. The door banged again, hard.
“Can I go take a look?” I asked her.
“Sure,” she said, walking into the kitchen and pulling open the fridge. “Knock yourself out.”
I started down the hallway, Luke following. When Ivy was out of earshot, I heard him say, “Man. She’s a piece of work, huh?”
“You have no idea,” I said. “She’s—”
I had to stop there, as what I found myself facing struck me utterly, suddenly speechless. Oh my God.
The airy, expansive master bedroom I’d helped furnish back in May had been gorgeous, with creamy, white walls, a huge bed with a full ivory comforter and pillows, and matching dresser, chair, and bedside tables with pale wood accents. A framed, mirrored mosaic hung over the bed, with a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall opposite. The rest of the room was windows, huge, tall ones, showing the best view of the ocean. It was, seriously, one of the prettiest rooms I’d ever seen, like something from a magazine.
This room, however, was a pigsty: dim, cluttered, and smelling strongly of fried food. I couldn’t even see the ocean, due to the black trash bags that had been put up—oh, God, please not with tape, I thought—to cover the windows entirely. The comforter lay in a heap on the floor, dotted with water and Diet Coke bottles, which also covered any other flat surface, often two or three deep. The floor was equally cluttered, with piles of papers, at least two different laptops, tangles of cords, and, inexplicably, many boxes of cereal, several of which were both open and spilling. And then, there was the banging.
The screen door, I saw as I peered into the dimness, was not just broken. It was hanging by only the top hinges, scraping the house’s exterior each time a gust of wind blew up underneath it. Which, judging by the noise and the plentiful white paint chips piled up along the slim bit of view visible under the garbage bags—which were, in fact, attached with duct tape, oh dear Jesus—was pretty much constantly.
I couldn’t even make a noise. Maybe I squeaked. It was Luke who said, “Oh, boy. Someone’s not getting their deposit back.”
“The windows …” I pointed, my finger shaking. “And … the carpet. Is that … is that blood over there?”
He stepped around me, gingerly, then navigated past a box of Froot Loops, two empty coffee mugs, and a huge pile of clothes to examine it. “Not blood. Cranberry juice, maybe?”
“I think I’m going to pass out,” I said, reaching behind me for the wall. Instead, I hit a couple of plastic bottles, knocking them to the floor.
“Go ahead. I’m going to shut this door up before it makes me crazy.” He picked his way acro
ss the floor, over the laptops and cords, and started feeling around under the garbage bags for the door handle. After searching a bit, he pulled the bag loose. And there was light.
I bent down, picking up the bottles I’d knocked over, an action not unlike removing a tablespoon of water from a tidal wave. “Who rents an ocean-view house … and then covers up the view?”
“The same person who lets a loose door scrape off half their siding, apparently,” he reported, having finally gotten the sliding door open. Fresh air was coming in now, a stark contrast to the dankness. He stuck his head out, examining the damage. “Boy. Forget the deposit. She’s in for more than that with this repair alone.”
Now that I could see, I went over to the windows and carefully eased off a large piece of duct tape to take down another bag. It took up paint, leaving behind black, sticky residue. Still, the light made me feel better, so I started taking them all down. Luke pitched in, and soon the room was flooded with sunshine. Which, honestly, just made things look worse. The door was still banging.
“I’m going to get the toolbox from my truck,” he said, as I surveyed the clutter and damage again. “I can at least take it off that hinge. Okay?”
I nodded, dumbly, and he headed to the door, clapping my shoulder on the way out. He knew better than to offer anything more positive.
I wasn’t sure how long I stood there, just staring, before I heard Ivy behind me. She was just suddenly there. “What’d you do to the windows?”
I turned, slowly, to face her. “Me? What did I do to the windows?”
She pointed at them. “I had them covered for a reason.”
“With garbage bags and duct tape?” I was pretty sure I was shrieking.
“I’m very light sensitive,” she told me.
“Then sleep in a hole, not an oceanfront mansion!” Okay, I was shrieking. “I can’t believe you did this to this room. It was perfect before you moved in. Pristine. And now—”
“Oh, it’s not that bad,” she said, looking around.
“Are you an animal?” I demanded. She looked at me, surprised. “Seriously. Because only animals live like this.”
“It’s just messy,” she told me. “Calm down.”
“Calm down?” I repeated. “The owners of this place are expecting to move in as soon as you leave. Which, by the looks of this, will probably be today.”