Page 61 of The Hunting Moon
Winnie hopes so. She also hopes it doesn’t look too… well, mommish. She tugs on her black jeans, and by the time they’re squeezed over her midsection and zipped up, Mom is back with two tops to choose from: a simple blue sweater and a red floral blouse. They are bothverymommish, but Winnie is alsoverydesperate. She snags the blue sweater and hauls it on. It is fitted and V-neck and hugs a bit more tightly to her body than she likes, but…
It’s clean! And new. It will have to do. As for shoes, well…
“Oh, not your Converse,” Mom begs as she watches Winnie scoop them off the floor.
“They’re all I’ve got,” Winnie mutters. “Unless you prefer combat boots?”
Mom shudders. “We’re going shopping next week.” She twists back toward the hall.
“Yes, please,” Winnie calls after her, still wondering when Mom went shoppingthisweek. Or for that matter, where she got the money to afford those fancy boots. She must be feeling really confident about getting back into the Luminaries—and on top of that, getting a more stable job with the Wednesdays.
Winnie wonders what kind of job that might be. Before Mom was Lead Hunter, she worked as a networker contact point, communicating constantly with all the Wednesday networkers (like the twins’ parents), who live in the non world to ensure Luminaries keep getting all the supplies they need to exist as a society… like the clothes at Falls’ Finest downtown or the coffee beans for Joe Squared.
Winnie never actually saw Mom do that job, of course; it was before she was born. Throughout Winnie’s childhood, Mom was Lead Hunter. Period. Handling all the duties and work and weight that such a job entailed.
Just like Jay has to do now.
Winnie rubs at her eyes. Then realizes she should probably put on makeup… then realizes she doesn’t have time, so she just snags her glasses off the nightstand and bolts for her bedroom door. Mom is already at the bottom of the stairs, tapping her foot and muttering, “Come on, Winnie. This is only the most important night of our lives.”
“I’m here.” Winnie stomps dramatically down the steps, giving particularoomphto the third stair from the bottom. It groans as much as she wishes her vocal cords would. “And I’m ready. Is Darian meeting us there?”
“Indeed he is.” Mom beams at her, her posture abruptly straightening. Her face shedding years and stress before Winnie’s very eyes. She holds Winnie’s leather jacket and offers it to her—a not-so-subtle message that her whole ensemble will look better if she just covers the darn thing up.
“Thank you, my most favorite daughter.” Mom slings an arm around Winnie once the jacket is on. “Darian and I owe you everything. You’re my loyal, loyal, fierce-hearted little bear.”
Winnie’s throat tightens. She thinks of the four birthday cards for Darian now in her pocket, of the moss slowly rotting beneath her bed in a dampener no one but Jay Friday knows about, and of the Venn diagrams that all point to a Diana spell currently ravaging Hemlock Falls…
She’s loyal all right.
Just not in the way Mom probably wants her to be.
CHAPTER32
Light pours off the Wednesday estate, brighter than the sunset still hugging the sky. Voices pour out too, along with laughter and clinking glasses and a low-grade thrill, as if a live wire thrums inside the brick walls.
A second live wire thrums next to Winnie. Mom is raw, exposed, and she moves with the strident steps of a hunter about to face the forest. Though she hasn’t said it, Winnie knows Mom is terrified.
Terrified it might not actually happen tonight. That all the lunches with the Luminaries, all the clan dinners and promises from Aunt Rachel, all her loyalty and flag-bearing and her Wolf Girl daughter will not be enough to counteract what happened four years ago. That tonight willnotbe The Night and tomorrow she’ll be back to picking up shifts at whatever store or restaurant will have her—and probably returning those leather boots if it’s not too late.
“It’s going to be fine, Mom.” Winnie has nothing on which to base this assertion, but she pumps her voice full of confidence and briefly nudges her mom’s shoulder as they approach the open Wednesday front doors. “They wouldn’t want us here if it weren’t going to be fine.”
“Hmmm” is all mom offers in reply, and Winnie’s posture deflates. She wishes Darian were here; she wishes she could off-load this job of propping up Mom to someone else. She knows it’s cruel and unfair of her—Mom spent four years as a solo parent in a town that tried to crush her. But Winnie hasso much to deal with right now. The three circles from her Venn diagram bounce around in her skull like Ping-Pong balls flung onto a table where the Whisperer is the net.
Pick your nightmare, spin the wheel! Or you’ll end up a Diana meal!
It doesn’t help that Winnie needs to talk to Darian about Dad’s birthday cards. Does it seem cruel to ruin Darian’s night?Thenight that could shape up to be the best for him and their family in four years? Without a doubt. But Winnie also can’t wait much longer. There’s just way too much at stake.
He owes you anyway,says a little part of her she doesn’t like.He wouldn’t be here tonight if not for all you’ve done.
Aunt Rachel is the first to greet Mom and Winnie when they walk in the front door. “No Darian?” Rachel has to lift her voice to be heard over all the conversation. The main hall ispacked,and to Winnie’s shock, extra tables have been set up near the dining room doors.
“Spillover,” Rachel explains when she notices Winnie’s gape. “Some networkers have come in just for tonight.”
Somehow, Mom’s live wire spews even more electricity. She tenses up so much, Winnie half expects her hair to stand on end. But this time, it’s Rachel who nudges: “It’s going to be great, Frannie. Trust me on this. It’s going to be great. Now, come on. Let’s get you a drink.”
Mom doesn’t relax, although she does turn dark, grateful eyes onto Rachel. Mom has forgotten to remove her driving glasses, so she hastily slides them off now, patting absently at the purse that hangs on her hip. She flashes Winnie a tight smile—part apology, as if she is ashamed she can’t quite keep it together, and part dismissal, because Rachel clearly has this all in hand now. “Let’s sit together,” Mom murmurs to Winnie. “And keep an eye out for Darian.”
Winnie nods, as the live wire stops pummeling her. Yet while Mom moves away to find a drink, Rachel lingers. “You ready for corpse duty in the morning?”
