12. Hildy
Hildy
SIX DAYS BEFORE THE PRESCOTT-SCHAFER WEDDING
VéZAC, France—If she had to describe the overall vibe of the prewedding festivities to a friend (as opposed to her magazine’s readers) Hildy would have said that it had the luxurious yet lightly educational ambience of a Viking River Cruise.
Although Hildy considered herself several decades too young to embark on a cruise geared toward PBS-viewing retirees, she had a thorough understanding of the experience from Corinne, who had gone on several with Gabby.
The fact that both were sixty-five at heart seemed to be the glue that cemented their ongoing, if nonexclusive, relationship.
As on a fancy cruise, wedding guests who didn’t want to lounge by the hotel pool could join a daily cultural excursion to add some enrichment to their stay in France.
Since this didn’t necessarily seem like Fiona and Robbie’s style, Hildy assumed the destination had been chosen by an outside consultant—until Fiona explained that her late mother had spent a year in this part of the world as an exchange student, and always talked about it as one of the happiest times of her life.
That was an undeniably sweet tribute to Fiona’s mom. Hildy was less moved by the itinerary for Day One, which bore the fingerprints of a different member of the Prescott clan.
Explore the cutting edge of horticultural design at this unforgettable art garden, where the grounds of a stately manor play host to a lush tapestry of sculptural boxwood forms infused with whimsy and mystery. A private tour will be followed by lunch amidst the greenery.
“Imagine that, a garden tour,” Hildy grumbled. “I wonder whose idea that was?”
“Not that you’re jealous,” Corinne said around a mouthful of croissant.
Hildy raised her sunglasses to give Corinne the full impact of her disdain. “For your information, I’m not always thinking about Walter.”
“Who said anything about him?” Corinne slugged her fresh-squeezed juice. “Let’s go, one-track mind. Try not to piss off any of our sources. Or their sisters.”
As if! Most people found Hildy charming and fun—and the exception to that rule wouldn’t be joining them today.
While the other guests posed in front of hedges that looked like extras in a surreal European production of Little Shop of Horrors, Hildy wandered ahead.
She wanted to check out the maze on her own, because what was the point of a maze if you couldn’t pretend you were lost, or on your way to a romantic assignation?
If that also meant avoiding Maude, Hildy was happy to file that under the fringe benefit column.
The gravel crunched under her wedge heels as she ambled along, turning and twisting among the sculpted boxwoods. It would have been more atmospheric with a long dress, but Hildy didn’t have the height to pull off a maxi skirt.
According to the map, there was a tearoom on the other end of the maze.
Hildy could set herself up at a table and wait for other guests to wander by so she could ply them with refreshments while collecting quotes about Fiona and Robbie.
Until then, it was nice to have a little breathing room.
She needed a minute to remind herself that nothing had really changed, despite Walter’s absurd idea of competing for a story that was already hers.
Her mandate was the same today as it had been yesterday: Knock this story out of the park, and all good things would follow.
There was no reason to expect anything but success. Weddings were her playground … although some would argue that Walter was equally experienced on these monkey bars.
But Hildy had the whole Life, Styled team behind her. And she wasn’t juggling a romance with her professional duties. Clear eyes and free hands!
Her footsteps slowed as she registered the hushed voices coming from somewhere ahead.
A bass rumble, then a soft reply. Whoever they were, they sounded …
intimate. A man and a woman, judging by the burst of laughter that was quickly silenced.
Had they realized Hildy could hear them?
She started to back away, placing each foot as silently as possible, when a low moan caught her ear.
Well, well, well. Someone was starting their day with a bang.
And since the gardens were currently closed to the public, it had to be members of their group.
She walked more quickly in the opposite direction, trying to give them privacy.
Despite covering her ears, Hildy couldn’t help registering that the muffled gasps and grunts were escalating to a definite climax.
An alarm went off, right around the same time as the unseen woman.
Hildy cursed under her breath before realizing it wasn’t her phone.
The amorous couple was scrambling now, their whispers growing frantic.
It hit Hildy in a sickening rush: They were panicking like they were late, and that meant they were almost certainly about to hurry around the corner.
The maze felt a lot less whimsical now that she needed a quick escape.
After tiptoeing around the next bend, Hildy spotted an opening in the hedge.
It was a false turn that dead-ended after a few paces.
If she flattened herself against the prickly wall, it might give her just enough cover—assuming they sped past without glancing to the left.
Hildy had about ten seconds to get her breathing under control before the first set of footsteps raced through the maze, sending gravel flying.
Her first instinct was to close her eyes, but she quickly realized that would not make her invisible.
Plus she kind of wanted to know which of the wedding guests were having a really good day.
Oh, shit.
It was Maude.
Who was supposed to be leading a tour of the gardens in five minutes.
Hildy listened for several beats before risking a glance down the path. They must have decided to stagger their departures so no one would question their disheveled state. Did she have time to run away before Walter got here? She didn’t trust him not to sense her presence.
I can’t believe I just heard Walter Burns having sex.
It was like something out of the Brothers Grimm: Don’t go into the maze, little girl! You’ll regret it.
She took a tentative step onto the path, jerking out of sight when she heard someone coming.
These footsteps were slower. Was that how Walter walked?
Hildy wasn’t aware of having studied his gait, but something seemed off.
Maybe a sensitive part of his anatomy had come into contact with the poky shrubs.
Not that she would wish that on him.
Much.
Hildy held her breath as he passed her hiding place. Keep walking, she silently urged. Nothing to see here! For once, he did as she wished.
She stared at the back of his head for several breaths before her brain caught up.
It wasn’t Walter.
If she’d paused to think, Hildy would have realized it couldn’t be Walter, but she’d been too busy freaking out to apply logic to the situation. Now that she was back in her right mind, Hildy wasted no time tracking down a likely source of intel.
“Hey,” she said to Fiona, who was lingering near the back of the group with Robbie. “Quick question about one of the guests. I’m trying to get a sense of who’s who, for the story, and I saw a guy with dark curly hair, fairly tall, leather bracelet on his wrist?”
That alone would have been enough of a clue that it wasn’t Walter. Hildy would bet good money her nemesis had never owned a bracelet, much less worn one.
“He looked a little old to be one of the groomsmen,” Hildy added, in case that narrowed it down.
“Did he have an accent?” Robbie asked.
“Um.” Hildy wasn’t sure whether people moaned with an accent.
“Better question,” Fiona said. “Was he bothering Maude?”
“I guess you could say that,” Hildy allowed.
“Then I know exactly who it was.” Fiona’s tone hinted at drama, like maybe she was aware of Maude’s extracurricular activities.
“He’s the historic preservation guy. Every time Maude wants to do something at the castle, she has to ask him for permission.
We’re pretty sure he’s deliberately making things harder.
Here, jump through this hoop! Now go dive through that one over there. ”
“And some of the hoops are on fire,” Robbie added.
Fiona leaned closer to Hildy, lowering her voice. “They’ve been going at it for months. Maude is usually super calm, but he really gets to her.”
“Yeah,” Hildy said, a little too emphatically. “I mean, I can imagine.”
“Those two are like rawr! Woof woof!” Robbie pretended each of his hands was a mouth, snarling and barking at each other.
“Something a lot of people don’t know about Robbie is that he was in the Puppeteering Club in college,” Fiona informed Hildy with obvious pride.
“We did really gentle stuff,” he assured Hildy. “Nothing hardcore.”
Maybe it was time to take another look at the wild world of marionettes. But first, Hildy had another interview to conduct.
She cornered Maude later that morning, on a shaded gravel path bordered by waist-high boxwoods. It was clear from the other woman’s body language that she didn’t welcome the interruption but was going to do her duty as hostess anyway.
“Are you enjoying the gardens?”
Not as much as you. Hildy kept that thought to herself. “They’re incredible.”
“This was one of my inspirations for the grounds at Chateau Fiona. Though obviously not on this scale.”
“How is that going? With the castle.” Hildy casually brushed her palm over the bristly surface of the nearest hedge. “Everything coming together to your satisfaction?”
Maude narrowed her eyes. “Why do you ask?”
“I heard there were some issues. With the historic preservation person? What was his name again?”
“Lo?c,” Maude replied, taking her time with it. “He’s the archaeologist supervising the excavation of a troglodytic habitation in the caves underneath the castle. There may be even older cultural remains on-site.”
“Like … dead people?”
“Art,” Maude corrected. “Engravings. Considering the area, it wouldn’t be surprising.” Hildy nodded like she got it, while making a mental note to listen more carefully the next time Corinne went on one of her Travel Channel spiels.
“Are you going to be based in France, going forward? Since you’ll have a business here.”
“It depends,” Maude said, obscurely. As if picking up on the unspoken part of Hildy’s question, she glanced behind her. “Have you seen Walter?”
“I’m sure he’s fine.” This was not a guess on Hildy’s part.
She had personally sent Walter on a completely different outing, going so far as to slip a revised itinerary under his door and hire a car to pick him up an hour before the bus departed for the gardens.
The goal was to dispatch him on a wild-goose chase while she covered the actual excursion.
Only now it appeared she had unwittingly given Maude an opportunity to cheat.
“So,” Hildy said, watching Maude’s expression for any hint of guilt. “You and Walter.”
“Shouldn’t we be talking about Fiona’s love life?” Maude pushed back. “I’m not sure how this is relevant.”
Under other circumstances, Hildy would have enjoyed the sass.
She could picture inviting Maude to brunch, maybe downing a pitcher of mimosas.
A tiny voice whispered that maybe this was why Walter liked Maude enough to violate his principles by fraternizing with a source.
That was better than supposing he’d been seduced by her millions … and yet Hildy’s annoyance spiked.
Dicking him around is my job. And in her case, it was consensual. Or at least reciprocal. One of those.
“Just collecting background detail. For the story.”
“I like Walter. He’s very easy to be around.”
Hildy’s exhale carried a whiff of yeah, right.
“You disagree?”
“No comment.” Which was its own comment, as Maude well knew. “Whatever I think or don’t think about Walter, I hate to see anyone in a situation where there’s an imbalance of power.”
“And which of us do you see as having the upper hand in this scenario?”
“Here’s what I know,” Hildy said, in lieu of answering.
“It doesn’t end well when one person is way more into his romantic partner than she’s into him.
Especially if he decides a baby will fix everything, only it backfires because the woman is even more determined not to be tied down, so she takes off and publishes an academic paper about how monogamy is a primitive system, and we could learn a lot from non-Western cultures about more enlightened and fluid attitudes toward sexual partnerships.
Meanwhile, he’s stuck at home with a newborn, pining. Just to choose an example at random.”
At some point in her preteen years, it had occurred to Hildy that she might not even be a biological Johnson, if her mother was that big on bucking traditional family structures.
That added some extra salt to the wound when people made assumptions about Hildy’s cushy background.
Were you really a nepo baby if you didn’t have the right DNA?
Maude blinked at her. “That does sound … complicated.”
“It’s okay. I have a pretty great life. But it would have been nice if my mother had figured out her shit before other people got dragged into it.”
Maude hesitated, looking torn. It might have been one of those I am about to lie to you microexpressions. Then again, it could also mean I am about to confess something meaningful. People were tricky like that.
“Walter and I have been very honest with each other.”
Hildy’s claim to the moral high ground was shaky on that front, so she accepted this with a curt nod. She’d delivered her coded warning, for reasons she didn’t fully understand. And now she had a job to do, regardless of other people’s messy lives.
“Let’s talk more about plants,” Hildy said, opening her voice recording app.