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.