guys. He deserves better treatment, much better.'
Suzanne was silent for a moment. 'You know what you need. Ivy? A boyfriend of your own.'
Ivy stared down at her soup.
'And Gregory agrees with me on that.'
Ivy glanced up sharply.
'He thinks Will is perfect for you.'
'Tristan was perfect for me.'
'Was,' said Suzanne. 'Was. Life goes on, and you've got to go on with it!'
'I will when I'm ready,' Ivy replied.
'You've got to let go of the past.' Suzanne laid her hand on Ivy's wrist. 'You've got to stop acting like a little girl, holding on to the hand of big brother Gregory.'
Ivy looked away.
'You've got to start getting out and seeing other guys. Will's a start.'
'Butt out, Suzanne.'
'Gregory and I can set you up.'
'I said, butt out!'
'All right!'
Suzanne sliced an ultrathin piece of brownie, then pointed the knife at Ivy. 'But you butt out, too, and don't tell me what to do. I'm warning you now, don't interfere with me and Gregory.'
What did she mean by interfere? Ivy wondered. Don't give her advice — or stop holding on to Gregory's hand?
They both stared down at their food in silence. Peppermint sat between their chairs, looking from one to the other. Then somehow, after what seemed an interminable silence, they found their way onto safer ground, talking about the wedding Suzanne had been to. But as Suzanne talked on and Ivy nodded, all Ivy could think of was that one way or the other, she was going to lose someone who meant a lot to her.
'Give us a few more minutes, Philip,' Ivy said. 'We want to look at the rest of these paintings.'
'I think I'll go find Gregory.'
Ivy reached out quickly and caught her brother by the back of his T-shirt. 'Not today. You're stuck with Beth and me.'
For the last four days Ivy had spent little time with Gregory, seeing him only at occasional family meals and in chance passings in the hall. Whenever their paths did cross, she'd been careful not to start a long conversation with him. When he'd sought her out — and the more she'd avoided him the more he had sought her out— she'd claimed she was on her way up to the music room to practice.
Gregory looked puzzled and a little angry about the distance she was putting between them. But what else could she do? They had grown too close. Without meaning to. Ivy had come to depend on him. If she didn't back off now, she might lose Suzanne as a friend.
Suzanne and Beth had met Gregory, Philip, and Ivy in town that afternoon, at the bottom of Main Street, where the festival began. Suzanne had immediately draped her arm across Gregory's back and slipped her hand into his back pocket, walking him away from Ivy and Philip. Ivy had responded by steering Philip in another direction. Beth was left standing on the street corner.
'Come with us,' Ivy had called to her. 'We're going to see the art.'
The display was set up along a narrow lane of old shops that ran back from Main Street. An assortment of townspeople — women pushing baby strollers,' old ladies in straw hats, kids with their faces painted, and two guys dressed as clowns-walked along looking at the pictures, trying to guess who the artists were. Each picture was tided and numbered, but the artists' names were masked for the judging that would take place later that day.
Ivy, Beth, and Philip were almost at the end of the display when Philip had started fussing about finding Gregory.
Now Ivy pointed to a strange painting, trying to distract him. 'What do you think that is?' she asked.
'Things.' He read the title with a scowl.
'Looks to me like a row of lipsticks,' Beth said, 'or trees in the fall or Christmas candles or catsup bottles or missiles at sunset—' Philip screwed up his face. 'It looks to me like it's stupid,' he said loudly.
'Shh! Philip, keep your voice down,' Ivy warned. 'For all we know, the artist is right behind us.'
Philip turned around to look. Suddenly the scowl was gone. His face lit up. 'No,' he said, 'but there's an—' He hesitated.
'What?' Beth asked.
Ivy glanced quickly behind her. No one was there.
Philip gave a little shrug. 'Never mind.' He sighed.
They moved on to the last entry, a panel with four watercolors.
'Wow!' Beth said. 'These are fabulous! Number thirty-three, whoever you are, you're my winner.'
'Mine, too,' Ivy agreed. The artist's colors were almost transparent and infused with a light of their own.
Ivy pointed to a painting of a garden. 'I wish I could sit there, for hours and hours. It makes me feel so peaceful.'
'I like the snake,' Philip observed.
Only a little boy would have found that snake, Ivy thought, painted in so slyly.
'I want to talk to the woman in the last picture,' Beth said.
The woman sat under a tree with her face turned away from the painter. Blossoms were streaming down on her, luminous apple blossoms, but they made Ivy think of snow. She looked at the title: Too Soon.
'There's a story behind that one,' Beth said softly.
Ivy nodded. She knew the story, or one like it, about losing someone before you had a chance toFor a moment her eyes stung. Then she blinked and said, 'Well, we've seen everything in the show. Let's go spend money.'
'Yeah!' Philip shouted. 'Where're the rides?'
'There aren't any rides, not at a festival like this.'
Philip stopped short. 'No rides?' He couldn't believe it. 'No rides!'
'I think we're in for a long afternoon,' Ivy told Beth.
'We'll just keep feeding him,' Beth replied.
'I want to go home.'
'Let's walk back to Main Street,' Ivy suggested, 'and see what everyone is selling.'
'That's boring.' Her brother was getting that stiff-jawed look that meant trouble. 'I'm going to find Gregory.'
'No!' She said it so sharply that Beth glanced over at her.
'He's on a date, Philip,' Ivy reminded him quietly, 'and we can't bother him.'
Philip started dragging his feet as though he had been walking for miles. Beth was walking slowly, too, studying Ivy.
'It's just that it's really not fair to Gregory,' Ivy told Beth, as if she had asked for an explanation. 'He's not used to a nine-year-old tagging along everywhere.'
'Oh.' The way Beth glanced away told Ivy that her friend knew this wasn't the whole truth. 'And of course, Suzanne's not used to it at all.' 'I guess not,' Beth replied mildly. 'This is boring, boring, boring,' Philip complained. 'I want to go home.' 'Then walk!' Ivy snapped. Beth glanced around. 'How about getting our picture taken?' she suggested. 'Every year there's a stand called Old West Photos. They have different costumes you can dress up in. It's fun.'
'Great idea!' Ivy replied. 'We'll take enough for an album,' she added under her breath, 'if it keeps him occupied.'
The canopied stand was set up in front of the photo shop and looked like a small stage set.
There were several backdrops to choose from, trunks of clothes that kids and adults were sorting through,
