Page 63 of Hand Picked
Webb rolled his eyes and hid his smile behind his coffee cup. He seemed relaxed and happy, so I relaxed, too, enjoying my breakfast and letting the merry sounds of the Sundays’ conversation wash over me.
“Found them, Uncle Ernie!” an eager voice cried. “The handfasters are here!”
I looked at Webb in panic. Was this déjà vu? Was I doomed to forever associate breakfast with the horror of being attacked by colonial-era bylaws? Both of us turned simultaneously to find Mayor York and his reporter hurrying toward us, cameraman in tow.
Genevieve appeared beside our table first. “You two are impossible to track down,” she told me and Webb, half joke and half accusation. “I had to run a lame backstory piece on this week’s Hand-Fast Watch where I interviewed a professor at Hannabury about colonial marriages. Snooze-fest! I could feel my ratings nosediving. But this week will be more exciting.”
It would?
“Ernie,” Webb said gruffly. “For God’s sake, man, we’re just trying to eat breakfast—”
The mayor hesitated momentarily, but when Genevieve gave him a thumbs-up and the camera began rolling, he smoothed his jacket and tried to look professional.
“I’m Genevieve York-Muller, andthis… is Hand-Fast Watch!”
Aiden poked me. “What’s a Hand-Fast Watch?” he whispered.
I exchanged a look with Webb and responded in the same soft voice. “Remember your dad told you about us blowing the bugle without knowing what it meant? Well, a bunch of people would like to make us finish all the silly steps. But don’t worry, they can’t actually make us do anything, okay?”
“Yeah.” Aiden looked speculatively at Genevieve and the mayor. “Yeah, okay.”
I turned back in time to hear Ernest York say, “… it is my solemn duty as mayor to see that our bylaws are upheld here in historic Little Pippin Hollow—where you can find both colonial artifactsanda genuine colonial interpreter at the Feeny Museum on Friend Street, not to mention agricultural tourism that harkens back to yesteryear at many of our local farms! Email Julia at Little Pippin Hollow dot gov for more details!”
Webb gritted his teeth, and I knew why. It was one thing for the two of us to have to deal with this stuff, and even to pretend it was real… but a whole other thing for it to happen in front of the other Sundays, especially Aiden.
“And now,” Mayor York continued, “without further ado… it’s time for the ceremonial ticking of the scroll.”
“If this is about the roof thing,” Webb began crossly, “you’re barking up the wrong tree. The work hasn’t even been done yet.”
The mayor ignored him. “Whereas Thomas Webb Sunday and Luke Guilford Williams were seen immersing themselves together in a pond during their second handfast week, with over a dozen Hollowans as witnesses, I declare the Tenth Confirmation Taskcomplete.”
I gasped. “Are you kidding? The public bathing requirement? Ifellin and almost got hypothermia.”
“But it was really romantic the way Webb carried you out,” a voice that sounded like Mark the Herd Leader argued.
“You two make me believe in fate,” another man called.
“I knew you were in love way back last fall. Didn’t I say, Irma? I said, those two are in love!” a third person gushed.
“I hope somedayIget rescued from an icy pond,” a woman’s voice sighed.
“I don’t suppose you two would be interested in doing a dramatic re-enactment of the near drowning?” Genevieve ventured hopefully. “For our viewers to—?”
“No,” Webb snapped.
“Ah, well.” Undaunted, Genevieve turned her attention to Aiden. “What do you think of all this, young man? Your father being handfasted to your teacher and taking part in this amazing town tradition? Isn’t it wonderful?” She thrust a microphone across me and into Aiden’s face.
I was so outraged, it took me a minute to access my powers of speech.
“W-well,” Aiden began, looking tentatively from Webb to me. “Mr. Williams is awesome, so uh—”
“No, ma’am.” I stood up, pushed the microphone aside, and gave Genevieve a defiant look. “No. This handfasting thing is cute and heartwarming. Y’all are in love with love. I get it. But you don’t get to ask aminor childinterview questions without asking his father’s permission first. He’sseven. Seven! He has no comment whatsoever, and if I hear that you’ve tried to ask him for one, I will… I willconsult my attorney.”
They didn’t need to know that it might take him a decade to get back to me since freakin’ Stephen Fox never returned my calls.
I swallowed nervously once the first burst of emotion burned off, but a voice called from a nearby table, “That’s my kid’s teacher right there! Hot dang. We need more like Luke Williams!” and I stood straighter.
So much for pushing the emotion away. Feeling the support of the community was punching all my feels buttons and leaving me a little too raw.
