Page 6 of The Summer You Were Mine

“Because it’s Janelle Monáe, that’s why.

” Ben was probably putting the finishing touches on another fête in a fabulous ballroom somewhere, based on the echoey sound to his voice.

He may have been the most sought-after event planner in New York City, but right now he was a little brother abandoning his big sister on an international flight with their soon-to-be-divorced parents.

Of course Ellie understood that Ben had to arrive in Italy later because of work, but she really wanted to let him have it for leaving her alone to contend with the Flying Beltramis tomorrow.

“Ugh. Fine. I mean, I know it’s a good reason for you to be late, but is it normal for a person to plan a million-dollar surprise birthday party when the surprise is that the person planning it doesn’t get to know when it is?

” Ellie picked at the elastic straps on the inside of the open suitcase next to her.

“It’s not normal unless the client is a multitalented superstar with a packed schedule and a lot of faith in their event planner.

It’s slightly challenging to be on standby for a huge party, but really all I need to make it work is two hours, three thousand ranunculus, and forty cases of Bollinger.

Oh. And David Guetta. Or Calvin Harris. Or Paris Hilton! ”

“Why do you have to be all fancy and sought-after now that our parents have collectively lost their minds? Do you understand the degree to which I am going to suffer on a twelve-hour transatlantic excursion in the middle seat from hell with those two? How am I going to do this on my own? Please don’t say Xanax.

” Ellie had Ben on speaker so that she could have both hands free in order to reroll the underwear that she had already rolled once that day and stuff it back into her suitcase.

Ben, like Ellie, had been born in the United States, but he worked their father’s Italian heritage for all it was worth.

He was not afraid to introduce himself as “Beniamino, but you can call me Ben.” Like a baby Tom Ford, he’d been blessed with a wicked sense of personal style that made everything he touched achingly chic.

He was booked at least two years in advance but always made concessions for special clients—like Janelle Monáe.

They had decided to throw a massive bash and wanted to transform the Ziegfeld Ballroom into an eyeball-searing spectacle of Jazz Age elegance.

Naturally, there was only one man to call.

Unfortunately, they couldn’t commit to a specific date due to an unpredictable shooting schedule on their latest film and book tour.

Ben might be a tiny bit annoyed about having to make concessions, but Beniamino was willing to go with it.

“I was going to say ‘noise-canceling headphones and an edible,’ but Xanax would work, too. Wait, what do you mean twelve hours? It’s like, seven hours from JFK. Are you rowing there? (Damian, Ms. Amour needs lemon slices, not wedges, in the greenroom.)”

“Yeah. First mistake, I let Ms. Peg make the reservations after she said she got a good deal online. We have two layovers! Two!”

“Lord Jesus and Dolly Parton, you’re in for it.”

“Tell me about it. I honestly don’t know how I am going to get through this.

You’re going to owe me so big,” she said, removing the dry-cleaner plastic from the clothing hanging on the back of the closet door.

Her plan had been to not pack anything that reminded her of work, even before work was something that she definitely didn’t want to be reminded of.

She pulled the first of five breezy linen dresses off its hanger and folded it neatly into the suitcase.

“What do you think the chances of them being normal are?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?” asked Ben.

“No. I do not.”

“Ellie, you made a career guiding jock-y ding-dongs away from making stupid decisions. Can’t you work your magic on our own two ding-dongs? (No, no. The damask roses on the table with the nameplates, the floribundas in the powder room.)”

“Are you serious? It’s totally different!

The people I talk to on the show have been knocked around too much to have a brain in their head, so I excuse them when they act like they don’t have one.

These are our parents! They have no excuse.

” She should probably be wrapping everything in tissue paper, but that seemed like a task best reserved for when she could happily waste her energy worrying about fabric crinkles instead of a family crumble.

“Gee. I am shocked that you’re afraid people think you hate athletes.”

“In light of recent events, I would say that ‘hate’ may be too strong a word. It’s just that I don’t believe that they prioritize a depth of emotional intelligence in their everyday interactions and I—”

“Hey, hey, hey! Don’t psych-speak me, lady. I’m on the clock over here.”

“Okay, okay. I am really worried about what is going to happen now—not only with the parents, but with the show, too. My guests canceled and most of my sponsors are pulling out. The CEO of Magniv hasn’t called yet.

But he will. The show has bills to pay. I’ve got Omar.

I love Omar. I can’t let him down. We were on top of it all.

It can’t be one stupid moment that ruins all of it.

I thought that since I got diagnosed I was learning how to not open my mouth without thinking,” Ellie said as she clipped her luggage tag to one ring on the suitcase handle, then unclipped it and reattached it on the other side.

“You only found out that you’re autistic a year ago. I know it’s a learning process, but can you give yourself a break? Also, what makes you think this has anything to do with autism? It seems to me like you guys made a careless mistake.”

He was right, of course. Ben always had a way of stopping her when she was about to take herself down with doubt. “I guess I still default to that being the cause of everything.”

“Or maybe you’re looking for an excuse.”

“Hey. That’s not it. Look, I’m worried, okay? No one deserves to be collateral damage here.”

“Not even you, El. What are you going to do if the show can’t go on? (The shrimp in that bisque had better be U-10. Did you check them?)”

“I don’t know. Maybe Omar and I can come work for you—start over completely. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“Hell no. People who can afford to hire me for events don’t want hetero opinions. Why do you think I’m this successful?”

“I wish I could argue that point, but it’s impossible.

Of course I’m crushed that people think I’m horrible.

And incompetent.” Ellie had never been so wrong about something, and she hated not being able to fix it.

She was the fixer. It was her job to repair broken situations.

But now she was watching as her own fell apart.

“Look. You had one professional blip. Every artist has critics. Look at me! Every time I order tulips in September I get read for filth over the goddamned carbon footprint. You’re not a horrible person.

And it doesn’t matter if you’re autistic or a kangaroo.

Don’t pay attention to Mom and Dad right now.

I promise you, we will talk to them together.

Just get there in one piece, hug Grandma, and please relax.

By the time you’re back everyone will forget the whole mess even happened.

You’ll probably be able to spin it into a new show segment or something.

Lemons into lemonade, mama, seriously. You’re going to be fine. ”

Ellie sighed and sat down on her bed, the plastic from the dry-cleaning bag sticking to the backs of her thighs.

“Yeah, so, I may have another slight issue,” she sighed.

“I found out that Cris is going to be there, and I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I think I might be nervous.

I haven’t had to face him in four years, and it’s been longer than that since we talked. ”

“Ah, yes. I heard. But I don’t know if I would say that hiding out in the press lounge at the ESPYs while he chilled in the audience next to a snowboarder can be considered facing him.”

Ellie flinched. Ben didn’t have it quite right, but he wasn’t far off.

She had faced Cris, sort of. Four years ago, Ellie was standing outside the press room backstage at the ESPYs when she heard a voice that made her pray she would disappear into the cinderblock wall behind her.

Cris strode down the hallway, his eyes down as he listened to the stagehand with a headset who would guide him out to the stage wings.

In a black suit, his body nearly closed out the light in the white hallway as he came closer.

Her heart banged in her ears and she begged with all her might for him to not look up.

Right at the moment it looked like she would get her wish, she panicked at the thought of it coming true.

But then mercifully, horribly, his eyes flicked up to hers.

Right there in the back hallway of the Peacock Theater, ten years of tears instantly welled in Ellie’s eyes and she hated herself for it.

It didn’t matter what she felt, though. The stagehand called his name.

And Ellie could only watch him walk away down the hall, then turn back to look at her.

She leaned against the wall, this time willing it to be solid enough to hold her up.

“That was—that was not a good experience.”

“Yeah, I am pretty sure I remember a three A.M. call with you sobbing on the phone that confirms your comments.”

“Well, I’d like it to be different now. And wait, how did you know when I didn’t know?”