"I had them put in."
"Them?"
He nods, opening a little compartment on the back of the side-by-side and producing a blanket. "There are four around the orchard. I wanted places for the employees to relax. Take a break from work and enjoy themselves. One of the other green spaces has a trunk with lawn toys. Frisbee, Koosh, some of those soft footballs." He leads the way to a spot in the middle of the grass. "Happy employees make better tasting olives."
I didn't know it was possible to be more impressed by Hugo, but here we are.
Taking the blanket from where it drapes over Hugo's arm, I shake it out and lay it down. Hugo bites the side of his lip and looks at the ground. "Do you need help sitting down?" he asks me.
"I'm not that pregnant yet," I sass. "But I might need help getting up."
My belly has grown in just the past few days. According to the app I downloaded last month, Peanut is nearing the size of a banana.
Hugo sits down beside the picnic basket, while I navigate gracefully sitting down. It's not really possible, and I end up deciding not to care how I look.
"I asked my sister to put together a picnic basket, and when I tried to tell her what I wanted, she told me to shut up and let the chef work her magic." Hugo shakes his head. "Let's hope she remembered your diet restrictions."
"I'll make do," I assure him. I'm not worried. I don't think there's much that gets by Vivi.
She's sharp, and she's quick, and it's evident how much she cares for people.
Hugo makes a show of removing items from the basket, announcing them. "Arancini," he says. "Stuffed olives with a note from Vivi that says they have feta, not bleu cheese." He huffs a smile. "Sometimes I forget my sister is a professional. Anyway." He goes back to announcing food items. "Panko-crusted chicken." There's a note attached to it. He reads it quickly, balling it up and throwing it back into the basket.
"What did that say?"
"Nothing."
My eyes narrow. "You think I'm going to buy that? I'm a curious person. You know it, and I know it." My finger circles the air. "I wouldn't be here if I weren't."
Hugo fishes the paper from the basket and tosses it to me. Catching it, I unfurl the small square.
No garlic in any of this
in case you want to smooch.
I dissolve into laughter.
Hugo rolls his eyes. "Vivi's a lot."
"She's great," I assert.
"She's both," he compromises. "I hope you're hungry."
"Always," I answer, because it's true. Sometimes I'm hungry, sometimes I'm ravenous, but I'm always on the spectrum of being ready to eat.
"Almost forgot," Hugo says, reaching back into the basket. He comes away with a bottle of something dark orange and sparkling. "Blood orange Italian soda."
He pours the drinks, and we munch on the picnic Vivi packed us. Unsurprisingly, everything is delicious.
"This is gorgeous, Hugo," I comment, popping a stuffed olive in my mouth. "But I'm sure I don't have to tell you that. You get to work here every day."
He lies back, propping himself up on one elbow, and looks around. "I'm in the fields less than I thought I would be. Taking over as the operator means alot more office time. Sometimes I grab a side-by-side and come out here during the day, just to be out in nature. Vivi and I used to run through here as kids. Pick up the fallen olives and pelt them at each other." He smiles at the memory.
He looks at me with careful, considerate eyes. "Did Maggie ever do anything like that to you?"
"No. Maggie was an angel on earth. Sweet nearly all the time. Maybe she would've been a hellish teenager." The idea of it puts a rueful smile on my lips. "Something to balance her out and make her seem typical. The truth is, she was anything but. She was gentle and kind. She held funerals for bugs." Usually these memories hurt, but right now they feel...ok. What is that about?
"My dad, too. I mean, he didn't have the innocence of a child of course, but he was a better human than many others." Hugo smoothes out a ruffle in the blanket, eyebrow furrowed. "The police said he likely didn't see his attacker. I've always hoped that's true. If it was somebody he knew, he would've felt confused. Hurt. Disappointed."
