29. Walter
Walter
TWO DAYS BEFORE THE PRESCOTT-SCHAFER WEDDING
TAMNIèS, France—“So we worked on a story together. A thing that happens every day, in newsrooms all over the world. Whoop-de-do.” Hildy twirled a finger in the air. “It was a long time ago.”
“It was more than that.”
She leaned back on her elbows, legs crossed. “Do tell.”
It felt like a dare, as if Hildy was waiting for him to say the wrong thing so she could kick him out. Walter edged the narrative forward, a man walking on an icy sidewalk.
“We went to a wedding together. And it was uplifting and beautiful and meaningful.” He could see Hildy getting ready to call him out for being a sap, so he added a pinch of salt. “Also, a bit strange.”
“Yeah. Weddings are like that.”
“All weddings have lab techs in dwarf hats doing a group dance number?”
She lifted a shoulder, totally blasé. “Maybe they should. Why don’t you suggest that to Fiona and Robbie?”
Walter was aware she was trying to provoke him into veering off course. He also knew Hildy liked to protect herself by hiding behind a show of attitude, because she didn’t like to feel vulnerable—which meant he had to go there first.
“Happiness. That’s what we found in that cafeteria.
” He paused before going on, letting her wonder whose happiness he was talking about.
“Honestly? I thought it might be sad. Here were these two people who didn’t get their dream wedding, and now they had to party in a cafeteria, and their whole future was uncertain—but it wasn’t like that at all. They were incandescent.”
“Or you were blinded by all the sparkly fabric.”
Walter ignored her grumbling. He knew Hildy didn’t believe that. “They were overjoyed they’d found each other. They had the most important thing, and nothing else mattered.”
“Found each other twice,” she corrected, “which made it even more…” Hildy broke off, realizing she was arguing the wrong side.
“Magical.” He held eye contact until she looked away. “It was a total rush, covering that wedding.”
“You did hit the soda fountain pretty hard.”
“It wasn’t the Mountain Dew, Hildy. It was you.
” He thought of what he’d told his mother on the phone that night: I don’t know how to describe her, because I’ve never met anyone like Hildy before.
Ten years on, he had yet to encounter another person who went straight to his bloodstream like a double whiskey and Coke.
She was silent long enough that he thought maybe he was getting through to her, until she spoke again. “And what happened after that, Walter?”
“You had a craving for pie.”