He nods solemnly, but he looks conflicted.
"Thank you for introducing me to people today."
"You're welcome." He motions with his head. "Order the Bellamy sandwich, Hugo style." He narrows his eyes at the popsicle in my hand. "And finish that."
Cherry red melted popsicle drips off the end, sliding down my thumb. "I will. I was waiting because?—"
"Yeah, yeah. I know." He shakes his head quickly, as if clearing it. "Go."
I listen, sidestepping him on my way out of the tent. Skirting the edge of the festival, I find my way to the sidewalk of Olive Avenue. I finish my popsicle in no time,enjoying the burn of the cold and licking the melted juice from my hands because I don't have a napkin.
Neither of the ladies I met on my first day in Olive Township are working in Sammich today. I order the way Hugo instructed, requesting they package it for takeaway. I also buy a bag of chips and a cookie at the counter, scarfing them down as I wait for my order to be ready.
It seems everybody is at the festival today, locals and tourists alike. Sammich is a ghost town. Even Olive Avenue is quiet, only a handful of people coming in and out of the shops that buffet the road. I'm sitting at a table next to the front window, brushing chip and cookie crumbs from my lap, when I spot Liane across the street. She's stepping from a shop that says Sweet Nothings in white on a large lavender sign. Glancing right, and then left, and apparently appeased by whatever she sees or does not see, Liane dips her hand in her large purse. She comes away with something small, and metal. A flask, I think. My guess is confirmed when she twists off the top and splashes whatever is inside into what appears to be a to-go cup of coffee.
She stashes the flask back in her purse, blows across the top of the hot liquid, and takes a sip. Her gaze lifts as she's drinking, landing squarely on mine as if magnetized. She flinches, then looks abashed, like she's been caught doing something wrong. I don't care that she's spicing up her coffee in the middle of the day, and I doubt anybody else would either. To communicate this, I wave and smile.
Liane charges across the street. She looks like arushing bull, but without the crazed look of vengeful indignation.
As I watch, she clears the curb of the sidewalk in herbougie heels. For a brief moment I think maybe I am not her destination, but it's wishful thinking. It's not that I don't want to talk with her, but also, I don't want to talk with her. I want to eat my sandwich and write down every interaction I had today in the notebook in my hotel room. I need to list all the people I met, the businesses they run. Nobody struck me as suspicious, but it's good to get a clear picture of the town.
Liane yanks on the Sammich door handle, and unless she had a sudden hankering for a sandwich, I am her goal.
She slows when she enters, approaching me. Her golden bob is perfectly styled, artfully cut so she can tuck one side behind her ear and still have the ends curve forward to fall against her neck.
"You didn't see that," she says coyly, pulling out the seat opposite me.
"See what?" I ask, winking at her.
Elbows on the table and hands clasped, she leans forward conspiratorially. "Between you and me, events like these can be exhausting. When your husband is the mayor, you're always"—she pauses to create air quotes—"on." She sits back, her hands moving to rest in her lap.
"That sounds like it could get tiring after a while," I respond diplomatically. She must have no idea that people can hear it in her voice, the way she forces herself to be this way.
The Sammich cashier appears at the table, setting down my order wrapped in a white paper bag. I thank her, and she asks if she can get anything for Liane. "I'm ok with my coffee, but thank you."
Liane peers at the bag on the table in front of me. "Eat," she instructs. "I heard what happened to you."
I'm too hungry to wait on Liane to decide she needs to move on from this impromptu visit, so I remove the sandwich and take a bite. It's heavenly, this sandwich, piled high with fresh turkey and the best crunch from the layer of potato chips.
Liane taps a pink painted nail on the table between us. "I also heard you're expecting."
It's not a big deal if people find out, but I didn't want to advertise it either. I'm in Olive Township for a very specific reason, which has nothing to do with expecting a child.
Except, it does. It has everything to do with this baby, and simultaneously nothing at all.
"Sixteen weeks," I answer. "Seventeen, actually." The smile that appears on my face when I say it is still new to me. The announcement was not joyous for other people, and so I felt it could not be joyous for me. The feeling is fading, thankfully.
Liane beams. "Do you know what you're having?"
"Not yet." I take a small bite of my sandwich, chewing and swallowing it down. "I missed the appointment this week where I would've learned."
"You know what? It doesn't matter." Liane sips her coffee. "You'll love that baby more than anything."Her eyes grow soft, far away and fond, like she's remembering. "Nursing them through an illness, wiping away their tears, you'll do anything in the world for them."
Liane's words are kind, but a sting accompanies them. Maybe my own mother felt this way once upon a time, but it stopped. One day she was my mom, and the next, it was over for us.
I'm swallowing another bite when Liane asks how I know Hugo. "I met him last week, in this shop, actually." As I'm talking, an idea forms in my mind. "How long have you been Mayoress?" The title is superficial and silly, but she seems to prefer it, and I have a feeling appealing to her ego will get me where I want to go.
"A very long time," she answers. "Probably about as long as you've been alive. Nobody else in this town seems to want the job. Every time Alan runs, he's uncontested."
