Page 65 of Hand Picked
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We were nearly finished eating, and I had mostly calmed down, when Helena Fortnum stopped by our table. I’d met her a couple of times—she was teaching royalty in the Hollow and stopped by the school frequently to read to the children—but I’d never actually spoken to her before. She was a little bit intimidating, with her long, gray braid and her way-too-intelligent eyes.
“Where’s Hawkins?” she asked without preamble.
“Home,” Em said. “Learning way too much about Fogg Peak.”
She nodded. “Excellent. I’d hoped he’d sign up for Ernest’s committee. We need more young people involved in local politics. Just a few more months until you’re old enough to get involved, Emma.” Her gaze swung to me. “What about you, Mr. Williams? You seem caring and intelligent.”
“See?” Marco said pointedly. “Told you. You’d be good on the mayor’s committee.”
“Oh, I… don’t think so. I’m not much of a political person,” I demurred. “I teach and take care of my sheep. That’s plenty.”
“Your sheep.” Her eyes narrowed. “Do you raise them for wool?”
I nodded. “It’s just a small flock, and this spring will be my first shearing. But I hope to have enough wool for a few crochet projects next winter.”
A slow smile spread across her face. “You need to become a Hooker!”
I blinked. “A… pardon?”
“The Little Pippin Hookers. That’s our fiber arts group. I can’t believe no one’s told you about us yet! We meet the second and fourth Tuesday of the month out at the Apple of My Eye—that’s my bed-and-breakfast. You should stop by. We’ve got a great artisan community in this town, Luke.”
“I… I definitely will.” My excitement was probably all out of proportion to the event, but I felt like I’d been waiting months for this invitation, even though I hadn’t known the group existed until now.
It felt like acceptance. Like an arena where I knew I had something to contribute. And with the taste of Webb’s kiss on my lips, it was hard not to feel hopeful.
I beamed at her. “Thank you so much.”
And I felt my emotional roller coaster cresting another rise.
“Hey, Mr. Williams? Your phone’s vibrating.” Aiden tugged on my sleeve. “It saysMom: FaceTime.”
“Thanks, bud. I’ll get it in a minute. So, what kinds of crafts—?” I began asking Ms. Fortnum.
“Or I could get it now,” Aiden interrupted with a grin. “So I can meet your mom.”
“Aiden,” Webb warned, but I snorted and waved him off.
“It’s fine, Webb. My mom will love it. Go ahead, Aiden.”
“Luke, honey, I only have a minute, but I— Oh,hello. Who’s this handsome devil?”
“I’m Aiden Sunday,” Aiden said proudly.
“No,” my mom argued. “Not possible. Luke said Aiden was only seven. You look much too mature to be seven.”
Aiden sat up straighter. “Well, Iamgoing to be eight in August.”
“Ah, that must be it,” she agreed. “Sweetheart, is my Lukey there?”
“I’m here,” I said, taking the phone. I turned the camera around and showed her everyone at the table. “Mom, these are my friends. That’s Drew Sunday, and Marco, and Emma, and Knox, and Gage—” They all waved obediently. “—and this is Ms. Fortnum. Oh, and you already met Aiden and—”
“Well, hey, there, Webb!”
“Hi, Ms. Williams,” Webb said, smiling and waving at the phone. My heart let out a little sigh.
“I can’t wait to meet all of your friends in person.”
