“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 out. 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 just 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.”