The sun burns hotter in the sky as the day progresses. Mallory seems to enjoy meeting people, shaking their hands and asking questions relevant to their products. I already know everybody, so I stand back and watch her. She's a natural people person, with a warm smile and eyes that hold authentic interest.
With a light touch on Mallory's lower back, I say, "I don't know about you, but I'm about ready for food and drink."
"Same," she agrees. "And a bathroom." She points at her belly. "I probably reach my step goal every day walking to and from the bathroom, thanks to the baby."
Her hand hovers over her midsection as if she wants to caress it, but won't allow herself to. Her reason for being in town isn't the only thing she's keeping a secret from everybody. If I hadn't seen her prenatal vitamins fall from her purse, she probably wouldn't have told me, either.
I want to know why that is, but that feels like a lot tounpack, and we're in the middle of a crowded public space. Another time, then.
"Do you have five minutes to swing by and see my mom at the Summerhill booth? I promise we'll find a bathroom right after that."
"And food and drink?" she adds hopefully.
"All the things," I assure her, grabbing her hand and weaving her around the back of a row of white tents. We come out the other side and head for the Summerhill tent at the end of the row. Despite being the most commercially successful vendor here by a mile, my mother has insisted we keep our tent modest.Everybody knows who we are and what we offer, she says. She's right, of course, but I managed to sneak a stack of tri-fold glossy pamphlets on the table this year. I'm doing what I can to revamp our website and bring it into modern times, but until the new site goes live, paper marketing and word-of-mouth are the best ways for me to make people aware of all the new experiences being offered at Summerhill.
Employees of Summerhill usually sign up for time slots to run the booth throughout the day. My time slot isn't for a few more hours, but Vivi and my mom are running it now. Everly and Knox stand beside Vivi, helping her in ways that don't look very helpful.
"Mallory," my mom says when she catches sight of us walking up.
"Mrs. De la Vega," Mallory greets.
My mom crooks an eyebrow, and Mallory laughs. "Sonya," she amends, and my mom gives a swift nod of approval.
"Hello again," Mallory says to Vivi.
In my opinion, it's more of a greeting than my sister deserves after her behavior earlier.
Vivi's expression is cool, but my mom knows better and she is having none of it.
"Vivienne Alexandra De la Vega I am going to rename you Petty Betty." My mom reaches out, pinching the delicate skin on the underside of Vivi's arm.
Vivi snatches her arm back. "I am looking out for you, Mom," she argues. Her gaze runs over her kids, playing at her feet. "I am looking out for everybody."
"My daughter, I love you deeply, but I am a grown ass woman. If I've decided it's time to open up about your father's murder, then that's what I've decided."
"Grown ass woman," Everly parrots, head popping up and leaning on Vivi's mid-thigh. "What is murder?" she asks, the childlike voice at a juxtaposition to the ugliness of the word.
Vivi brushes a hand over Everly's hair. "I will tell you later."
"You better promise," Everly demands, one hand propped on her hip. "Sometimes you say you'll tell me somethin' later, but you don't." The wordsometimescomes out likesun-tines, and the innocence and sweetness of it makes me chuckle.
"Hey Everly, if she forgets, you tell me." I point back at myself. "I'm the big brother. I'll deal with her."
Vivi likely has numerous hand gestures and various expletives ready to fling, but she's stuck being agood example in front of her kids. The most she can do now is narrow her eyes.
Beside me, Mallory shifts. The movement draws Vivi's attention to her, and Vivi says, "You've earned the trust of my mom and my brother."
Mallory is nodding, but she stays quiet, as if she knows Vivi is working through something.
"Hugo said it's not what we thought, so..."
Mallory leans forward, gripping the edge of the rectangular table, where everything is set up. She must be having a hard time hearing Vivi with the sounds of the festival in the background.
"...I'm willing to listen, too, and"—Vivi's eyebrows suddenly cinch—"Mallory, are you ok?"
My head whips to Mallory, standing only inches from me. Face pale. Lips lacking her natural rosy shade. As if compressed by the air above her and the packed earth below her, she crumples.
But I'm there, arms out, sinking to my knees and catching her.
