For the next thirty minutes or so, we all worked quickly and silently. Luke got the door off, while Ivy and I filled trash bags, dealt with the carpet, and got everything off the floor. I plugged in the vacuum and pushed it at her, then made the bed with fresh sheets from the linen closet, which had also not been used yet. By the time we were all done, it slightly resembled the room I remembered. Which was honestly more than I expected.

“See?” she said, as we all stood by the door, surveying our work. “All better.”

“Not all. And it’s not like it could have gotten worse.”

I heard a buzzing, and she pulled her phone from her pocket. “Hello? Oh, Clyde, hi. I’m on my way, just hit a little snag, so—What?” She glanced at her watch. “But we said ten thirty, so we could really get in some good time . . .”

Luke nudged me from behind. “You are a serious hard-ass, you know that?”

“What? She wrecked this entire place!”

Ivy shot me a look, then stepped out into the hallway. “All right, then. Well, no, I wouldn’t say I’m happy, but . . . let’s just say three. But we’ll start right then, yes?”

“It’s just nice to know,” he said, stepping around me to grab his toolbox, “that some things never change. Especially you, Emaline.”

“That doesn’t exactly sound like a compliment.”

“It is,” he replied, in that easy Luke way. The boy could flatter, I had to give him that. “I’ll be outside.”

Just then, as my own phone beeped. I slid it out and looked at the screen. Going to cape frost with Clyde, Theo had texted. Translation: so far so good.

“All right,” Ivy said. I hurriedly slid the phone back into my pocket. “Let’s just cut to the chase. Are you going to report me, or what?”

I looked at the room again. “That depends. Are you going to leave it like this and agree to pay for the damage to be repaired as soon as I can get someone here?”

“Yes,” she said, without hesitating. She stuck out her hand.

“Not so fast. I reserve the right to check in on this room anytime I choose during the time you’re still here. It creeps back anything close to what it was, and all bets are off.”

“Fine.” We shook, and then I turned and started down the hallway. I was going down the stairs when I heard her say, “You know, he’s not wrong about you.”

I looked up. She was on the landing above. “Who’s that?”

“The pool guy,” she said. “You are a hard-ass.”

“But you don’t mean that as a compliment, I’m sure.”

“Actually, I do,” she said. “It takes one to know one.”

For a moment, we just looked at each other. It occurred to me that maybe under other, crazy circumstances, we might have become friends. But not these.

“Enjoy the view,” I told her. I was pretty sure, however, that it was me she was still looking at as I pulled the door shut behind me.

*   *   *

“Just wait until you hear this,” Theo said. “You’ll totally understand why it called for the Best Al Fresco Celebration Ever.”

Thirty minutes earlier, he’d sent me a text that said, simply, 5 p.m. You and me. The pavilion. Big news. I’d finished up the last few things I needed to do at the office, clocked out, and then headed over as instructed.

I was trying to move through the throng on the boardwalk when I spied a bouquet of multicolored balloons bobbing in the distance. As they grew closer, I saw that Theo, wearing his sport coat, was sitting right beneath them.

He’d spread a white cloth out on the bench beside him, upon which he’d arranged two champagne flutes and snacks: a tiny plate of crackers and cheeses, some mini-pickles, and a dish of olives. His backpack was at his feet, unzipped. When he saw me, he grinned.

“Surprise!” he said, attracting the attention of everyone else around me. I felt myself redden as I stepped away from the moving crowd, closer to him. “Have a seat.”

I did, looking up at the balloons. “Where did you get those?”

“Helium Helpers, in Cape Frost,” he replied, reaching into his bag and pulling out a bottle. He opened it—pop!—then began to pour. “Clyde told me about them. Nice, right?”

“We can’t drink here,” I said, looking around. Everyone passing was staring at us. “It’s illegal.”

“It’s sparkling cider,” he explained. “Which sounds so much better than fake champagne, don’t you think? The snacks, however, are one hundred percent real. Olive?”

I took one, just because I knew he wanted me to. “So . . . what’s all this about?”

“Ah!” He lifted his glass, then waited for me to do the same. Once I did, he cleared his throat. “To the Best Future Plan Ever.”

“Which is what?”

“Drink first!” he said. “It’s bad luck otherwise.”

I drank, wincing at the sharp, fizzy taste. Theo put his glass down, then reached over and took my hands. “You,” he said, “are looking at the new tour manager for world-renowned collagist and painter Clyde Conaway’s long-anticipated upcoming museum shows.”

This was a long title, not to mention quite a bit of information. “Clyde hired you?”

“Basically,” he said, taking another sip of his cider. He picked up a piece of cheese and placed it on a cracker, then handed it to me before fixing one for himself. “Let’s just say when you create the job description for a person who isn’t even aware they need someone, you’re already halfway hired.”