12. Hugo
Chapter 12
Hugo
Her hand in mine feels right.
Who am I right now?
Every ounce of her vulnerability draws out my own. It's terrifying, but I've never felt more awake. Her grasp, her straightforward acquiescence, calms and energizes me at the same time.
Under the shade of a bright blue canopy sit my sister and my friends, not attempting to hide their shock as we approach.
Penn is the first to wave a hand. I return the gesture, greeting my lifelong best friend. Daisy, his wife and Vivi's best friend, smiles happily from her perch beside Penn. My sister, however, narrows her hawk eyes at our clasped hands.
Mallory releases me, and I fight the urge to hold on tighter. At this point, I'm not certain I recognize myself.
"This is Mallory," I say, pulling up to the group. They sit in folding chairs, Vivi beside Daisy, and Penn with his long legs extended. "Mallory is the true crime podcaster I've told you about."
I guess it's accurate that married people start to look like one another, because Penn and Daisy wear identical expressions of shock.
"I thought you were..." Penn trails off, glancing from me to Mallory.
"Ignoring me?" Mallory supplies, amusement in her tone.
Penn purses his lips, head dropping in a single decisive nod. "Exactly."
"Turns out it's more difficult to ignore someone when they show up in your favorite sandwich shop." I look at Mallory, biting back a smile.
She lays an open palm on her chest. "In my defense, I was already there when you walked in."
We look at each other, trading memories of the moment we met.
Me asking What brings you to Olive Township?
Her smirking. You can do better than that.
Penn and Daisy are the first to jump into action. Penn stands up to shake Mallory's hand, and Daisy, sweet as usual, pulls Mallory in for a hug.
Leaning around Penn's back, I give Vivi a hard-eyed stare that says Get your ass up and introduce yourself. She narrows her eyes at me, but stands up.
"This is my sister," I say, annoyance rising in me at Vivi's blank face.
Mallory nods. "Vivienne."
"I guess you did your research," Vivi says flatly .
Vivi doesn't know about Mallory's little sister yet, doesn't understand why Mallory's really here. Vivi was busy at the restaurant on Sunday and couldn't make it out to Summerhill when Mallory came to meet my mom. Vivi might be in the dark, but she should know that if I have Mallory with me, it means something. I wouldn't be bringing her around people if the situation hadn't evolved.
Daisy's foot glides across the grass, delivering a sly kick to Vivi's shin. Vivi's expression does not change. I'm not sure if she felt her best friend's physical tsk .
The air under this canopy is thick, and my annoyance only grows. "Vivi, knock it off. I've had a chance to get to know Mallory. It's not what you think." Vivi's attitude toward Mallory is largely my fault, so I gentle my voice and add, "It's not what I thought."
Vivi's gaze shifts to me. Her arms are crossed, her eyes steely, but I know my sister. She's trying to understand why we are no longer on the same team when it comes to Mallory.
To her, Mallory is still a true crime podcaster looking to rustle up unpleasant memories.
To me, Mallory has become Mallory . A person with a backstory. A life. Pain and regret that propels her through every day. In the span of a week, she has gone from one dimensional, to multifaceted.
And I'm not loving the way my sister is treating her. Vivi can have a pass because she doesn't know Mallory's true reason for being here, but once she knows, an attitude like this won't work for me .
"Well," Penn says, cutting through the silence. "This is fucking awkward."
A grin tugs up one corner of Daisy's mouth, and she leans into her husband's arm. "You're awfully good at stating the obvious, Sailor."
He winks at her, eyes radiating unadulterated love. "Just continuing my service to our country, Sunshine."
I bite the side of my lip and try to pretend like their loving interaction doesn't feel like tiny spikes inside my chest cavity. I've never had that. Ever. Nobody has ever looked at me with such longing, an equal mixture of I love every part of you combined with I will rip off your clothes right here and right now.
I want that someday. The problem is, I don't know if that's in the cards for me. It's entirely possible I will never have that.
"Hey, beautiful people," a male voice says from behind.
Duke swoops around my seat, dragging a chair of his own.
Vivi's shoulders slump as she attempts to retreat further back into her chair. "Is it too much to ask to be struck by lightning?" she grumps.
Duke drops quickly into his chair, not looking her way when he says, "There isn't a cloud in the sky, but keep wishing."
Vivi sends him a middle finger he doesn't see. "Heads up," he says, the words forceful and under his breath. "Overzealous mayoress incoming."
On cue, Liane Rooney's cloying voice filters from two tents over. I can't make out what she's saying, only that inauthentic tone.
Vivi cuts a razor sharp glare at Duke. "If you brought her over here with you I will tear off your arm and beat you with it."
Mallory sits taller, craning her neck. "I met her a couple days ago when I got my hair cut."
"Did you get a cavity?" Vivi asks.
Mallory's dark eyebrows draw together. "No. Why?"
I answer for Vivi. "My sister, who apparently woke up on the wrong side of every bed in the world today, is saying that the woman is so sweet she might give you a cavity."
"Nauseatingly sugary. Fake." Vivi doubles down on her assessment. She dips her chin Liane's direction, saying, "She specialty orders those heels she wears. Can't trust a bitch that bougie."
A burst of raucous laughter comes from Penn, but Daisy frowns. "Vivi, you are being a pill right now. Liane Rooney is just nice . She always has been."
Vivi shoots Daisy a withering look. "Daisy, you of all people should know it's impossible to be that nice "—air quotes—"all the time. You yourself got so caught up in being this town's sweetheart you almost married someone you didn't love."
Mallory jerks forward, eyes bright and hands gripping the arms of her chair. "Wait, what?" Her curiosity turns to confusion as she glances at Penn. "Who?"
Penn, that fucker, smirks. He doesn't usually rub it in Duke's face that he's the one who ended up with Daisy after all, but he's not above sprinkling a little salt in the wound either.
Not that there's much of a wound where it concerns Duke. He loved Daisy as a friend, and still does, but he wasn't in love with her.
"Duke The Twat," Penn says, at the same time I say, "Paper Towel Duke."
Duke, bless his heart, simply points back at himself while saying, "Yours truly." He looks nonplussed at the less-than-kind nicknames Penn made for him, but then he pretends to pull guns from holsters on his hips, transitioning to middle fingers mid-air.
Vivi gasps dramatically, miming a pearl clutch. "Not the extra-spicy finger guns."
Duke ignores her and blows on the ends of his fingers, miming holstering them.
Mallory's wide brown eyes are on me as she tries to understand. I lean over the fabric arm of my chair, and Mallory meets me. Her nearness sets off alarm bells in my head, and she has me wishing I could inhale, loud and long, taking in her sweet scent.
Getting control of myself, I say, "There's too much to explain, so I'll sum it up. Duke and Daisy were engaged but they weren't in love, and then Penn came back to town after being gone for a long time. The rest is sort of history, I guess, except that it's worth mentioning Penn showed up to crash their wedding."
Mallory's mouth forms a wide O . She blinks several times, long dark lashes sweeping the delicate skin beneath her eyes. "It's like a soap opera. "
Penn is suddenly there, in our conversation. "You should know," he starts, looking at me conspiratorially, "that it was Hugo's idea for me to break up the wedding. He told me to, and I quote, " Storm the castle ."" Penn claps me on the shoulder. Hard. "A real romantic, this one."
I open my mouth, ready to tell Penn that somebody had to stop him from being an angsty whiner about the whole thing, when a shrill voice rings out from two feet away.
"Good afternoon, ladies and gentleman." Liane Rooney offers the greeting with pomp, as if we are her benevolent subjects.
"Good afternoon, Mayoress Rooney," we all chorus, except for Mallory. It's on purpose, this singsong, meant to make her feel like a school teacher we dread seeing.
Her careful smile falters for only a second. She knows what we're doing, and she doesn't appreciate it, but she'll never tell us.
Liane turns her attention on Mallory. "You're the young lady I met at the hair salon."
"Yes," Mallory says with a smile. She sounds far more genuine than any of us. I catch my sister's gaze behind Liane's back, and she rolls her eyes. Vivi is usually no-nonsense, but this is extreme. Maybe something happened with her ex? I wouldn't be surprised. Though he was the one who was unfaithful in their marriage, he does everything he can to absolve himself of the guilt by trying to make Vivi feel like she caused him to step out. My sister might talk a tough game, but on the inside, she's sensitive .
Liane is saying something to Mallory about coming by her booth later for prickly pear lemonade. Then she turns to Duke. "Duke, make sure you call the mayor and schedule some time with him. He'd like to talk to you about a new hotel chain looking to build here in the next few years. Just some due diligence."
Duke nods dutifully. "Yes, ma'am."
Liane spends a minute asking Daisy how things are going on her parents' thoroughbred farm. Daisy smiles her trademark warm and winning grin, and answers politely. Despite finally putting herself first and following her heart by choosing Penn, she remains the town golden girl.
"Well, I just wanted to thank you all for coming today," Liane says, walking off on her bougie heels to torture another group of people.
"It's as if she believes she is hosting this event," Vivi gripes, watching Liane's retreating form.
"You know that's how she is," Duke says. "She mother hen's the whole town."
Vivi's arms cross. "I don't like it."
"We couldn't tell," Penn mutters.
Vivi points at him. "Don't sass me."
Suddenly, I have the urge to walk away, to take Mallory and be on my own with her. I love sitting with my friends and bullshitting, but that's not why we're here.
Tipping my head Mallory's direction, I ask, "You ready to explore?"
She glances around the group, eyes landing back on mine. "I think I'm done absorbing. "
I stand up, offering her my hand. She doesn't need the assistance, not in any real physical capacity.
I like the idea of treating her well. Given that she's pregnant, without a partner, tells me somebody recently treated her poorly. I don't like thinking any woman was mistreated, but it's especially upsetting when it comes to Mallory.
"I'm going to take Mallory around the festival," I inform the group, thumbing behind myself.
I await Vivi's snide remark, but mercifully, she stays quiet.
"It was nice to meet you," Mallory says to everyone.
We make it a few feet away when I hear Duke say, "Somebody please tell me who that woman is."
Mallory chuckles, and I sigh in apology. "Sorry about that. I never bring women around. I think my friends are in shock."
"No apology necessary. I like observing, and there was a lot to soak in."
Her comment piques my interest. "Tell me more."
"Well," Mallory says, stopping at a homemade soap vendor. "Your sister isn't open to talking about your dad. Not with me, at least."
"She doesn't know your history yet. Or why you're here."
Mallory selects a cube of sample soap from the tray, the one with a thin slice of lemon poking out of the top and leaves of rosemary inside. She lifts it to her nose, inhaling. "You can tell her. Or I can. I'd rather have her on board. "
"Me, too. I've seen mules less stubborn than my sister." Mallory offers me the soap, and I take it. "I have this in my kitchen. The owner uses cold-pressed olive oil in her recipe."
"Your olive oil?" Mallory asks, eyebrows raised.
I nod. Carley, the shop owner, comes to say hello. Mallory introduces herself, explaining she's in Olive Township for a visit. She doesn't seem interested in telling people the real reason she's here, so I follow her lead and introduce her this way as we walk throughout the festival.
The sun burns hotter in the sky as the day progresses. Mallory seems to enjoy meeting people, shaking their hands and asking questions relevant to their products. I already know everybody, so I stand back and watch her. She's a natural people person, with a warm smile and eyes that hold authentic interest.
With a light touch on Mallory's lower back, I say, "I don't know about you, but I'm about ready for food and drink."
"Same," she agrees. "And a bathroom." She points at her belly. "I probably reach my step goal every day walking to and from the bathroom, thanks to the baby."
Her hand hovers over her midsection as if she wants to caress it, but won't allow herself to. Her reason for being in town isn't the only thing she's keeping a secret from everybody. If I hadn't seen her prenatal vitamins fall from her purse, she probably wouldn't have told me, either.
I want to know why that is, but that feels like a lot to unpack, and we're in the middle of a crowded public space. Another time, then.
"Do you have five minutes to swing by and see my mom at the Summerhill booth? I promise we'll find a bathroom right after that."
"And food and drink?" she adds hopefully.
"All the things," I assure her, grabbing her hand and weaving her around the back of a row of white tents. We come out the other side and head for the Summerhill tent at the end of the row. Despite being the most commercially successful vendor here by a mile, my mother has insisted we keep our tent modest. Everybody knows who we are and what we offer , she says. She's right, of course, but I managed to sneak a stack of tri-fold glossy pamphlets on the table this year. I'm doing what I can to revamp our website and bring it into modern times, but until the new site goes live, paper marketing and word-of-mouth are the best ways for me to make people aware of all the new experiences being offered at Summerhill.
Employees of Summerhill usually sign up for time slots to run the booth throughout the day. My time slot isn't for a few more hours, but Vivi and my mom are running it now. Everly and Knox stand beside Vivi, helping her in ways that don't look very helpful.
"Mallory," my mom says when she catches sight of us walking up.
"Mrs. De la Vega," Mallory greets.
My mom crooks an eyebrow, and Mallory laughs. "Sonya," she amends, and my mom gives a swift nod of approval .
"Hello again," Mallory says to Vivi.
In my opinion, it's more of a greeting than my sister deserves after her behavior earlier.
Vivi's expression is cool, but my mom knows better and she is having none of it.
"Vivienne Alexandra De la Vega I am going to rename you Petty Betty." My mom reaches out, pinching the delicate skin on the underside of Vivi's arm.
Vivi snatches her arm back. "I am looking out for you, Mom," she argues. Her gaze runs over her kids, playing at her feet. "I am looking out for everybody."
"My daughter, I love you deeply, but I am a grown ass woman. If I've decided it's time to open up about your father's murder, then that's what I've decided."
"Grown ass woman," Everly parrots, head popping up and leaning on Vivi's mid-thigh. "What is murder?" she asks, the childlike voice at a juxtaposition to the ugliness of the word.
Vivi brushes a hand over Everly's hair. "I will tell you later."
"You better promise," Everly demands, one hand propped on her hip. "Sometimes you say you'll tell me somethin' later, but you don't." The word sometimes comes out like sun-tines , and the innocence and sweetness of it makes me chuckle.
"Hey Everly, if she forgets, you tell me." I point back at myself. "I'm the big brother. I'll deal with her."
Vivi likely has numerous hand gestures and various expletives ready to fling, but she's stuck being a good example in front of her kids. The most she can do now is narrow her eyes.
Beside me, Mallory shifts. The movement draws Vivi's attention to her, and Vivi says, "You've earned the trust of my mom and my brother."
Mallory is nodding, but she stays quiet, as if she knows Vivi is working through something.
"Hugo said it's not what we thought, so..."
Mallory leans forward, gripping the edge of the rectangular table, where everything is set up. She must be having a hard time hearing Vivi with the sounds of the festival in the background.
"...I'm willing to listen, too, and"—Vivi's eyebrows suddenly cinch—"Mallory, are you ok?"
My head whips to Mallory, standing only inches from me. Face pale. Lips lacking her natural rosy shade. As if compressed by the air above her and the packed earth below her, she crumples.
But I'm there, arms out, sinking to my knees and catching her.
Mallory slumps in my arms, unconscious.
"Get the medic," I bark to Vivi.
Vivi rounds the table. "I'll be right back," she says as she passes me. My mom gathers her grandkids in her arms.
"Vivi," I call out, as Vivi continues on. "She's pregnant."