Cecily takes a sharp breath. "Hugo must be ok with that." Her eyes grow wide. "He knows, right?"
"Yes, yes," I rush to say. "Hugo, Vivi, everyone. I have Sonya's blessing."
Cecily looks relieved. "Good. I'm surprised, though. They've always been very"—she mimes zipped lips—"about it."
"Sonya told me it was time." That's all I'll say about that. If Sonya wants people to know the full extent of her reasoning, she can be the one to reveal that.
"It looks like," Paisley pauses as she scrolls her computer, "you haven't started talking about that case yet. Nothing on socials, no episodes. Is that right?"
"Correct. I spent the morning writing out ideas, working through how to structure it for episodes. Deciding if what I have is enough to begin."
Paisley's nodding. "I won't pretend to know anything about podcasting and the work that goes into it, but what I know is the only way you're going to get subscribers and downloads is if you tell new people the content exists. Are you willing to do that? You have the support of the family, but do you have their blessing to take it to socials?"
Hugo appears at the hall entrance. His socked feet kept his return quiet, and now he stands still, looking at me. Then he nods his head deliberately, leading me to my answer. He wants me to take his dad's story outside of Olive Township, bring it out into the world.
I look back at the screen. "All systems go."
"Cecily will create a plan and reach out to both ofyou. She'll be your point of contact, but I am available at any time, also."
Jolene's nodding. "Thank you, Cecily and Paisley, for meeting with us."
The call ends, and the screen goes dark.
Hugo still stands at the entrance to the room, but now his arms are crossed, and he leans one shoulder against the wall. It's only now that I notice he hasn't bandaged his wound.
"Are you ok?" I ask tentatively, nodding to the towel wrapped around his hand. In his other hand, he holds a first aid kit.
"Fine," he assures me, but I'm not having it. He's done such a good job caring for me, he needs to let me take care of him for once.
"Sit," I instruct, leading him to a chair at the dining room table. He settles down, and I take the first aid kit from him, laying it out on the table and opening it.
"Let's see what we're working with here," I say, gently unwrapping the towel.
The cut isn't deep, and it's no longer bleeding. It was good that he returned to wash it.
Carefully, holding his upturned palm with my own, I apply an antibiotic ointment. I'm fighting my senses now, the way I want to launch myself into his arms. His nearness and the smell of earth and sweat and Hugo. It's overwhelming.
Hugo is still, and quiet, but I can tell he likes it. Being taken care of.
I'm applying two bandages when Hugo says, "It's onething to talk about making what happened to my dad into podcast episodes, and another to watch it happen."
I toss the trash from the bandages on the table. Step back so he can stand.
As soon as he's upright, I step into him. Put my hands on either shoulder. "I'm not going to sensationalize anything. I promise you, I will give your dad's story the respect and care it deserves." The trust not only he, but his whole family, has placed in me, sits heavy in the center of my chest, guiding me.
Hugo's left hand reaches up, wraps around my right forearm. "I know," he says, on a slow downward stroke. "I know you will."
It's silly and juvenile, but I cannot calm my curiosity about how well Cecily and Hugo might know each other. Schooling my voice into a tone of vague interest, I ask, "So, Cecily is from here?"
"Yeah. A little younger than me, by a few years if I'm remembering accurately."
My head tips sideways, and I pretend to adjust my earring. "How do you know her?"
Hugo's gaze tapers. His lips twitch, like maybe he wants to tease me. "Do you remember my friend Duke who showed up late to the Olive Festival?"
"The guy with good hair who Daisy almost married?"
Hugo nods. "He has two sisters. Cecily is one of them."
