“It is,” I told him. “But some people get it, right? That surety that something, someone, really is forever. My mom wouldn’t have a business otherwise.”
“I don’t think anybody ever really knows what’s going to happen,” he said. “We’re all just out here hoping for the best.”
I thought of all the weddings I’d worked, from the small church ones with finger food to the huge, multi-venue kind where no expense was spared. How sure were any of them, really, even after checking every box: aisle walk, vows, rings, first dance, toasts, and cake? Like going through these motions, or variations of such, were the way of guaranteeing something would last. But I, of all people, knew this just wasn’t true. We loved a third wedding, after all.
A few minutes later, I saw a bonfire burning ahead, a few dark figures standing around it. We went wide around them, but could still hear their voices, as well as music coming from a truck, doors open, parked in the sand by the dunes. Once past, I was surprised to see the beach ahead of us narrow to a thin strip, the tide running over a few sandbars there. In the dark, I’d just assumed it went on for miles. We kept going, all the way to the edge.
“Well, here we are,” Ethan said. “The end of the world.”
I smiled, turning slightly to take in the full view. “It’s different than I expected.”
“The big stuff always is,” he said.
Behind us, I heard a swell of music, something easy and slow; it had to be deafening by the bonfire. Where we were, though, it was caught in the wind and carried, just distantenough to seem ghostlike. Or maybe that was the wrong word. Perhaps I wouldn’t have used it at that moment, but only now.
Ethan walked out a little farther into the sand and water, the wind catching that white shirt, again sending the back billowing behind him. It was like he was glowing, more alive than anything I’d ever seen, when he turned back to me, holding out his hand. “Okay, I’ll only ask once more, I promise. Want to dance?”
Could I hear the music, still? In my memory, the answer is yes. But in retrospect everything is perfect, as are all the other details of this night. At that moment, though, everything was brand-new, including the way I felt as I stepped forward, locking my fingers into his as he pulled me in closer. Me and Ethan, dancing in the dark at the end of the world. It was like I’d waited all my life to have something like this, and I knew even then, at the start, that it would be hard, so hard to lose. The big stuff always is.
CHAPTER
7
“I’M HERE!I’m here!”
He wasn’t. In fact, he was barely through the door, racing toward the conference table, where the rest of us had been sitting for a good seven minutes. I turned to my mother, who valued promptness above all else, but she wouldn’t look at me. Nobody likes an I Told You So.
“Sorry,” Ambrose said as he basically threw himself, panting, into the seat beside me. A chair on wheels, it began rolling, putting him in motion as he added, “There was an accident on Main Street.”
William, across the table, followed this movement with his eyes, intrigued. He always loved a shit show. I said, “Didn’t you walk here, though?”
“Yes,” Ambrose replied, putting out a hand, finally, to stop himself. Then he grabbed the side of the table and began trying to return the chair into position, one clumsy pull at a time. “But I had to stop and”—yank—“rubberneck. I’m only”—yank—“human.”
I seriously thought my mom would just go ahead and fire him that second. He was late. Clearly inept. And stillyanking. Instead she said, “Was everyone okay?”
“Looked like it. Airbag deployed, though, and there was an ambulance.” Finally back where he’d begun at the table, he settled into his chair, then pulled a hand through his mussed-up hair. That one curl tumbled, and a piece of pink boa, stringy and wavering, rose up above him. No one else seemed to notice. “I could have garnered more detail, but it was important to me that I be on time.”
I rolled my eyes. “You weren’t, though.”
“Well, we’re all here now, so let’s get started,” my mother said. “Ambrose, first thing each morning we go over that day’s schedule. You’ll find it on that wall. Louna, give him a pad for notes, would you?”
After the tape dispenser incident, I had my reservations about trusting him with any office supplies. But I did as I was told, reaching across the table to pick up one of the yellow legal pads stacked there, along with a black pen from the nearby cup. When I pushed it over to Ambrose, he looked delighted, centering it in front of him, and uncapping the pen. I watched as he wrote his name at the top, like he was about to take a spelling test in third grade, followed by a number one with a dot.
“All of our upcoming events and tasks will be listed here,” my mom said, gesturing to the whiteboard behind her, which was divided into two sections. On one side was a calendar of that month, with all of our events represented in William’s block print. The other was the current week, with more detailed listings of every meeting, task, and errand that needed completing. I was grateful to seeKIRBY’Slisted rightat the top of that day, Friday, which meant a two-hour car ride by myself nursing what I was pretty sure was my first hangover.
1.WHITEBOARD IS SCHEDULE, Ambrose wrote. The pen was squeaking.
“As you can see,” my mom continued, “our next event is the Charlotte McDonald Wedding. We’ll be overseeing the rehearsal dinner tonight at the Lakeview Armory. Tomorrow we’ll have what we call a double hander, which means a church ceremony followed by a reception at another location.”
2.TWO HANDS THIS WEEKEND, Ambrose added to his list.
“You’ll see the locations are abbreviated next to the schedule,” William said. “VB and BH: Village Baptist and Barn Hill.”
3. CODES ARE INVOLVED.
Why was I reading this? I made a point of looking away.
“As you can see,” my mom was saying, “William and I have three meetings today, and there is a lot to be done out of the office, most importantly the pickup of flowers. I’ll expect you and Louna to get that done first, and follow up with the rest of the errands.”
