See You on a Starry Night

  Love,

  Mrs. Button

  “I love it,” I told Emma.

  “Me, too,” she said. “Best gift ever.”

  And if that wasn’t enough, Mr. Dooney told us finding someone to play “Clair de Lune” on the piano was one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for him.

  “I was afraid it had made you too sad,” I told him.

  “Well, I miss her, and with missing comes sadness, yes?” he said. “But the joy I felt was worth the sadness. I love that song, and hearing it again, on our piano that my dear, sweet Patricia loved so much, was a real treat. Truly.”

  “We’re so glad,” Emma said. “Is it all right if we have a cupcake, please?”

  He laughed. “Help yourself. I certainly can’t eat all of those by myself.”

  Later, on the boardwalk, before we went our separate ways, Emma said, “Make sure you tell Some Kid what Mr. Dooney said about how that was one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for him.”

  “We did it, didn’t we?” I said. “We were clever and creative in coming up with a good idea. Sneaky because he was not expecting that. At all. And diligent. We didn’t give up when the first two wishes didn’t work out. We kept trying.”

  Emma put up her hand for a high five. “Yes, we did!”

  After I slapped her hand, I asked, “Should I email her tonight?”

  “Are you kidding? Yes! And if you hear back, let me know right away, okay?”

  “Okay. I guess I’m just nervous. About what happens next.”

  She laughed. “What happens next is that the mystery is finally solved. It’s so exciting!”

  We said good-bye and I hurried home. When I walked in the door, Mom shouted from the kitchen, “Oh, good, you’re home in time for dinner.”

  “How’d it go?” Miranda asked me. “Did Mr. Dooney like your surprise?”

  “Like what?” Mom asked.

  As we ate a dinner of chicken and vegetables with the spicy sauce Laura had given us (it was really spicy, but I loved it), I told them all about the afternoon. I showed them the leather notebook Mrs. Button had given me, and told them Mr. Button had even come to hear the song.

  Mom sat back in her chair and smiled at me.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I’m so proud of you, Juliet,” she said. “We’ve only been here a little while and look at the way you’ve gotten to know people. You’re becoming a part of the community, and that is absolutely wonderful. I need to follow your example.”

  “Maybe if you weren’t so busy going on dates,” Miranda mumbled.

  I was about to take a bite of chicken, but my fork stopped midair. Had my sister just said that? My sister, who’d said I better get used to the idea of Mom dating? Maybe after thinking it over, she realized it wasn’t such an easy thing to get used to after all.

  “What’d you say?” Mom asked, her smile long gone.

  I thought Miranda might say, “Never mind.” But she didn’t. She repeated what she’d said.

  “How do you know I went on a date?” Mom asked.

  Miranda wiped her mouth and then set the napkin back in her lap. “I heard you talking to Rachel. I didn’t mean to, it’s just, these walls are thin. And I heard you say you were going on a double date with someone at work.” She motioned at me. “Neither of us can believe you’d do that so soon.”

  Mom sighed. “Girls, it’s really not like it sounds. Yes, I got set up on a date, but I made it very clear that I’m not interested in a relationship right now. The four of us went to dinner, saw a movie, and that was that. I told you I was going out with friends, and that’s all it really was.”

  “Then why’d you call it a date?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” Mom said, staring at her half-eaten plate of food. “Maybe because I liked the sound of it? For someone like me, who’s been married a long time, it’s both exciting and terrifying to think about entering the dating world again.”

  “Do you want to get married again someday?” I asked.

  She thought about it for a moment, and then replied, “I think I probably do. But I promise, it’s not something I’m going to rush into.”

  I told them what Emma said, about grown-ups needing the kind of love Mr. Dooney had for his wife. “I guess … well, I wish that our love was enough, Mom,” I said.

  “There are different kinds of love, honey,” Mom said. “That’s just the way it is. It’s like the love you’ve easily developed for Emma and her family is different from the love you have for our family. I could be upset about it. Jealous. But I try to tell myself it’s different, that’s all. Or like your love for art and making lists. You have room in your heart for both, right?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I do.” I realized as she talked that Emma’s family was sort of like my lists. Neat. Organized. Fun in an orderly kind of way. My family was like my art. Sometimes light, sometimes dark, sometimes messy, sometimes colorful. Mom was right, they were different. But it didn’t make one wrong and one right, or one better than the other.

  “Please know this,” Mom said. “I love you girls a whole lot. And nothing will ever change that. And I know this is all going to be a big adjustment for a while. But we’re going to take it one day at a time, and we’ll make it through.”

  As I sat there looking at my mom and my sister, I didn’t feel sad or worried like I had so many times in the past couple of months. I felt … calm. Sometimes when I’m painting, early on I’ll have moments of panic when I think the piece will never turn out. But I keep going, I keep working on it, and it’s almost never as bad as I thought it would be. Sometimes it’s even really good. Maybe that’s how this whole divorce thing will go, I thought. Maybe having two happy parents who live apart will end up being better than having two unhappy parents who live together.

  “Okay, so we don’t have to worry about shopping for a wedding gown any time soon?” Miranda teased.

  “No,” Mom said as she got to her feet. “We’re a long way from that, trust me.” She turned to go to the kitchen and then stopped. “And, girls, I promise if things appear to be going that way with someone, down the road, like waaaay down the road, you’ll be the first people to know. Now, would you mind helping me with these dishes? Then we can have some cupcakes for dessert while we watch a movie together; how’s that sound?”

  “What movie?” I asked.

  “It’s Maui time!” Mom said in her best impersonation of The Rock.

  It made me laugh. I clapped my hands together. “Moana!”

  “Shiny,” my sister started singing. I joined in. The perfect way to end a sparkly, wish-making kind of day.

  *  A song that sounds like wildflowers swaying in the breeze

  *  Cupcakes to say we’re thinking of you today

  *  An Irish setter who makes friends wherever she goes

  *  A pit of anger with mysterious powers

  *  Scrambled eggs sprinkled with affection

  *  The word bittersweet because so many moments are happy and sad

  *  A friend who is easy to forgive and sweeter than a cupcake

  *  Sparkly, shiny, beautiful love

  Before I went to bed, I told Mom I needed to do something quickly on the computer. “Okay, but make it fast.”

  I opened up my email and started typing.

  Dear Some Kid,

  We did it! We made someone’s wish come true. It wasn’t obvious, so we had to be clever and creative in coming up with the idea. We had to be sneaky so he’d be surprised. And we had to be diligent because our first wishes didn’t work out.

  So here’s what we did. A really nice old guy lives alone, because his wife passed away. Today would have been their sixtieth wedding anniversary. She used to play her favorite song on their piano, and he hadn’t heard it played in his house for five years. So we found someone to play it for him. He said it was very bittersweet, but he loved it. He also said it was one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for h
im. I’m just glad we could bring him a little joy on what was probably going to be a very long, sad day.

  So when can we meet? I’m excited to get the Starry Beach Club going. We’ll work together to make more wishes come true, right? I can’t wait! I know we haven’t met yet, but it already feels like I’m a part of something special. Let’s do this, okay? I hope we can meet SOON!

  Sincerely yours,

  J.J.

  Starry Beach Club Member #2?

  “Juliet,” Mom called. “It’s getting late.”

  “I’m going,” I said as I shut the computer down.

  After I got into bed, I read until I could hardly keep my eyes open. It was the only way to make myself sleepy, since I was so excited about finally meeting Some Kid.

  * * *

  The next day, Mom and Miranda left the house before I did, as usual. I checked email before school but there was no response. I checked again after school. Still no response.

  And that’s how it went again the next day, too. I was ready to give up and believe it was some cruel joke when I finally received a response Friday evening.

  Hi, J.J.,

  Sorry it’s taken me so long to write back. I’ve been trying to figure out the best way for us to meet. Plus, I’m scared. I’m scared that the idea in my head of how this is all going to turn out will be nothing like what happens in real life. What if you guys don’t like me? What if you’re disappointed in who I am? I keep wondering, who do you want me to be? You’ve thought about it, I know you have. You asked me to give you a hint, so you’re obviously curious.

  I know I need to decide. Either we meet or we end it here: A message in a bottle was found, a few emails were exchanged, someone’s wish came true, the end.

  Still thinking.

  Sincerely yours,

  Some Kid at the Beach

  I couldn’t believe it. I typed a response right away.

  Dear Some Kid,

  You’re scared. I get it. It’s exactly how I felt before I helped make Mr. Dooney’s wish come true. Sometimes it’s hard to believe that things will work out for the best. Because sometimes they don’t. I know, because my parents split up and some days it seems impossible that things will work out even a tiny bit. But the librarian at my old school told me something we need to remember. He said, “Just like in books, everything usually works out in the end. And if it doesn’t, that means you simply haven’t reached the end yet.”

  We already know we have something in common. Vincent! We both love Vincent and his beautiful art. We also know we like the idea of being a part of something special. So let’s meet. How about tomorrow (Saturday afternoon) by the bookmobile? Like maybe 1:00? Let’s do this! It’s going to be fine, you’ll see.

  Sincerely yours,

  J.J.

  A couple of minutes later, I had a response.

  Okay. See you then.

  I texted Emma to let her know. We’re meeting Some Kid tomorrow at 1:00 by the bookmobile.

  She replied: What if I can’t wait that long?

  I texted back: You can make me a pie while you’re waiting. That will help pass the time!

  *  Art, books, and music make the world brighter. They are also the best ingredients for chicken soup for your feelings.

  *  My dad once told me bravery is being scared and doing it anyway.

  *  It’s hard being brave, but it usually pays off.

  *  One home here, one home there, two homes are better than none.

  *  Starry night, sunflowers, seascapes—simply stunning.

  *  If I could meet Vincent, the first thing I would say is “Thank you.” The second thing I would say is “Maybe sadness doesn’t really have to last forever.”

  Emma and I got to the bookmobile early, happy to discover that it was open again. We ran inside to say hello to Mrs. Button. She was at her desk reading a book.

  “You’re back!” Emma said, practically jumping up and down.

  “Hello, girls,” she said with a chuckle. “Yes, Mr. Button insisted we not keep people waiting any longer. He’s feeling much better and doesn’t need me hovering over him every second of the day.”

  “Such good news,” I said.

  “Yes,” she said, her smile fading. “It is. I just wish …”

  “What?” Emma asked, when Mrs. Button didn’t finish her sentence.

  “Well, I suppose the news will get out eventually, so I might as well tell you. We may not be able to keep the bookmobile open much longer.”

  “Oh, no,” Emma said.

  “Why not?” I asked.

  Mrs. Button got to her feet. “The store changed management and they don’t want us here anymore. Not for free, anyway.”

  “Can you go somewhere else?” I asked.

  “You know how it is around here,” she said. “Real estate is hard to come by and parking is a nightmare.” She paused. “It might be time to pack it in.”

  I looked over at Emma, and she was shaking her head. “No. You can’t. We love this place. I mean, a lot of people love this place. It’s small and friendly and easy to get to.”

  “Isn’t there something we can do?” I asked.

  Before she could answer, we heard footsteps behind us. We turned to see a girl coming in. She looked familiar.

  “Come in, Carmen,” Mrs. Button said with a smile. “Don’t let us deter you. We were just chatting.” She turned to us and said quietly, “We’ll have to discuss it another time.”

  “No problem,” Emma said. “Hi, Carmen.”

  “Hi,” she said softly.

  Emma motioned me back outside, so I followed. I was still dazed from the news.

  “Can you believe it?” Emma asked.

  I shook my head. “I know I’ve only been here a little while, but I love having a place close by to get books. And there’s just something about the bookmobile that feels …”

  What was I trying to say?

  “Special?” Emma asked.

  “Yes. And maybe Mr. and Mrs. Button make it that way, but whatever it is, I don’t want it to close.”

  “Me either,” Emma said as she pulled out her phone. “Five more minutes until one o’clock.”

  It was gray and cloudy and looked like it might even rain, something I hadn’t seen since we’d moved here. I zipped up my hoodie, covering up my sunflower T-shirt. I took in the aroma of fresh-baked bread coming from the nearby store’s bakery as I paced, trying not to look like I was searching the street for someone, even though that’s exactly what I was doing.

  A minute later, Carmen came down the steps of the bookmobile carrying a book. It looked like a picture book, which seemed odd. She was way too old to be reading a picture book.

  “Are you guys waiting for something?” Carmen asked.

  Emma shrugged. “Just hanging out.”

  “Oh,” Carmen said. “Well, I was wondering …” She seemed flustered. I still couldn’t figure out why she looked so familiar. Obviously, she went to our school, since Emma knew her. Did I have a class with her? And then, when she shifted the book in her hands and I saw what it was, I remembered. And it all came rushing to me, like a big wave approaching that is obviously going to get you wet. This was the girl who had been making a sand castle with her brother the day I met Emma. And now, here she was, at the exact moment when we were supposed to meet Some Kid.

  I pointed to the book in Carmen’s hand, the title, Camille and the Sunflowers, now visible. “That looks like a good book.”

  She turned it around and looked at the cover. “Yes. Someone else has the other Vincent van Gogh book that I wanted to read.”

  I raised my hand. “Guilty.”

  Emma moved closer to Carmen, wide-eyed. “It’s you? You’re Some Kid?”

  She nodded and looked at me. “Your bottle washed ashore as soon as you two left. I couldn’t help it. I was dying to see what the message said.”

  I looked at Emma. “How come we didn’t think of that?”

  “Because
we were too busy worrying it might be Henry,” she said. “But it’s not Henry, it’s you!”

  Carmen stared at her neon-blue Nikes. “Are you … disappointed?”

  “Are you kidding?” I asked. “Why would we be disappointed?”

  “We’re happy it’s you!” Emma said, grabbing her hand. “You’re nice and normal and—”

  “And not Henry,” I teased.

  Emma laughed. “Yes! I’ve always wanted to get to know you better.”

  “Really?” Carmen asked.

  “Really!” Emma said. “This is awesome, right, Juliet?”

  Carmen gave me a funny look. “Wait. You mean your name isn’t J.J.?”

  I shook my head. “No. We didn’t give our real names. You know, for safety.”

  “Oh, okay,” Carmen said as she nervously twisted a strand of her long, black hair around her finger. “My best friend, she moved away last summer. It’s been hard since she left, you know? When I read your letter, it gave me the idea for the club.”

  “I’m sorry about your friend,” I said. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure,” she replied.

  “I’m wondering about Vincent,” I said. “What is it that made you like him?”

  She smiled. “Ever since we did our own starry night pictures in art lit in fourth grade, I’ve been obsessed. His art makes me happy. I can’t really explain it.”

  “I get it,” I said. “I was just curious.”

  She continued. “Like I said in my email, at first I thought of the Starry Night Club, but I think we’re kinda young for a nightclub.”

  “I agree,” I said, laughing.

  “So I kept thinking,” Carmen said, “and came up with the Starry Beach Club. But if you guys have another idea …”

  “No,” Emma said. “We love it.” She looked at me. “Right?”

  “Right,” I said. “It’s perfect.”

  “I think we should celebrate,” Emma said. “And then we need to figure out what we do next. Wish-wise, I mean.”

  “You know, I have an idea,” I said.

  Emma pointed to the bookmobile while she stuck out her bottom lip. Pouty face. “I bet it’s the same idea I have.”