The kitchen was a hub of “Beta-Luna” productivity, smelling of burnt sugar and fresh ink. I was hunched over my IBM ThinkPad at the kitchen island, the clicking of the keys providing a rhythmic backdrop to the sound of GG’smixer. We weren’t just planning a party; we were planning a takeover of hearts and minds, one hand-delivered invitation at a time. I wanted every family to feel seen, which meant no mass announcements—we were going door-to-door.
“Okay, be honest with me, GG,” I said, squinting at the screen where I was finalizing the font for the invitations. “Are Moon Pies too on the nose for the gift bags? Is it like… wolfie-overload?”
GG laughed, pausing her cookie-scooping to look over at me with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Roni, in this pack, there is no such thing as too ‘on the nose.’ They’ll probably think it’s a brilliant play on words. Besides, who doesn’t like a marshmallow-filled cookie?”
“True.” I started a mental checklist, tapping my pen against the laptop. “Okay, so we have the heavy-duty tote bags with the Moon Shadow logos—I want people to be able to actually use them for groceries later. We’ve got my Gramma’s fudge, the hot cocoa candles with our names on the labels—which, by the way, make the whole Beast smell like a cafe—and the pack-logo M&Ms.”
“Don’t forget the seeds,” GG reminded me, sliding a tray of her famous chocolate chip cookies into the oven.
“Right. The wildflower seeds that say ‘Love blooms when you have a pack.’ And the big one—the throw blankets with the logo. I want the families who are struggling, the ones like Amara’s, to have something warm and soft that belongs just to them.” I chewed my lip, looking at the growing mountain of supplies. “And then a container of your cookies to top it off. Is that too much? Do I look like I’m trying to buy their love with sugar and fleece?”
GG walked over, leaning against the island and looking at me with a warmth that made the “Beta” title feel like an understatement. “You’re not buying them, Roni. You’re showing them that for the first time in a long time, the person sitting at the head of the table knows they exist. That’s not a gift bag; that’s a message.”
I nodded, feeling that familiar Ohio grit settle into a new kind of purpose. “Good. Because once we deliver these, I’m going to start asking questions about those grocery store blueprints. If I’m going to be the Luna, the ‘Moon Shadow’ is going to be a place where nobody has to hide their hunger.”
I hit ‘Print’ on the ThinkPad, the whir of the machine sounding like the first step in a revolution. “Let’s get to packing, GG. We have a lot of doors to knock on.”
__***__
The scale of the operation had officially outgrown the trunk of a car, and the energy in the pack house was electric. We were moving from the planning stage to the “boots on the ground” phase, and I was making sure we did it with enough supplies to feed a small army. With the IBM ThinkPad finally cooling down and the smell of GG’s fresh cookies filling the air, the kitchen looked more like a distribution center than a dining room.
The morning was interrupted by the front door swinging open and Gamma Rhett poking his head in, looking equal parts confused and impressed.
“Uhh… Veronica? Errm… Luna?” he stammered, his long blonde hair a bit windblown. “I just signed for a delivery at the equipment shed. A custom golf cart? Is that okay?”
I let out a laugh that felt lighter than anything I’d felt in weeks. “It’s perfect, Rhett. It’s our chariot. Now, don’t just stand there looking pretty—grab a handle. You’re officially on loading duty.”
I didn’t give him a choice. We put him to work immediately, his tech-wiz hands proving surprisingly capable at heavy lifting. We weren’t just handing out the gift bags with the M&Ms, hot cocoa candles, and wildflower seeds. Every single home was also getting a massive wicker basket. I’d stocked them with heavy loaves of homemade bread, garden veggies, and piles of apples, oranges, and pears. But the centerpiece was a large ham tucked into the middle of each one.
“The further houses first,” I told GG, my voice firm. “I want the people on the outskirts to know they’re the priority today.”
Rhett loaded the golf cart’s attached wagon with the food baskets while GG and I finished tying the final ribbons and bows on the gift bags. It was a mountain of gear, but the golf cart—now the official Moon Shadow Delivery Vehicle—handled it like a champ.
Once the caravan was ready, I wiped my hands on my jeans and headed toward the back of the house. I pushed open the heavy oak door to Stormy’s office without knocking. Both he and Knight looked up from a stack of maps and blueprints, their expressions shifting from “Alpha-serious” to startled.
“Alright, big guy,” I said, leaning against the doorframe with a grin that probably looked a little dangerous. “Work is over for the morning. Come on—we have invitations to hand out, and I need someone to help me navigate the back trails.”
Stormy looked at Knight, who just gave a slow, knowing nod, then he looked at me. His ice-blue eyes tracked the stubbornness in my posture, and he stood up with a slow, appreciative rumble in his chest.
“I think the maps can wait,” he said, stepping around the desk and reaching for his jacket. “Lead the way, Moon Shadow.”
As we walked out to the waiting golf cart, Smudgie and Emmy already perched on the seats like they were the captains of the ship, I felt a surge of that anchored feeling again. We were going to the edges of the land, to the families who felt forgotten, and we were bringing the light of the moon with us.