CHAPTER 22
Kipp
By the time I saw Hattie, I was ready to leave. In fact, I was hiding out and planning my escape. I’d promised Sage that I’d stop by her booth, but that was my only commitment for the evening.
Tear-down wasn’t scheduled until Monday, and luckily, the committee had hired some high school kids to handle it. I was on shift anyway, so I was in the clear.
The thing about any gathering in a town our size was that they could fool you. They looked like nothing more than a good time with fair food, but beneath all that fun and sugar was real hard work. There were cables to lay and debates over who ordered the wrong-size folding tables. By the time the sun set, the entire Holt family had been running on empty, even my sisters, who typically seemed to have energy for days for these sorts of things. Sage and Phiny, in particular, seemed to thrive on any sort of organization that involved social events.
But walking beside Hattie in the cooling dark, I was amazed to find myself feeling anything but tired. After our evening together, I found myself craving more time with her.
We’d finished our tacos and picked up a margarita from another vendor. We’d even stopped by Wild Bloom, where luckily Sage was caught in a long line. She was selling adorable tiny pots of moss and baby succulents. Remembering to talk to her about getting some cacti for the cabins, or maybe some more child-friendly succulents, I filed that thought away for later and waved, counting it as a stop even though Hattie looked annoyed when we didn’t stop to visit.
“She’s crazy about your podcast.” She choked a little on her margarita.
“Ah,” Hattie took a breath, coughing a little. “It’s always interesting when people who I’ve met listen,” she said, brushing hair behind her ear. “I love my listeners, but I enjoy anonymity sometimes.””
I understood that she might want to enjoy some separation from that online persona. It must be hard for her, constantly on the go, and when she did meet people, those people were already carrying preconceptions about her. But that did make me wonder a little about why she wanted to keep that part of herself separate.
“It’s funny—I talk all the time on the podcast, but thesecond someone asks me directly to talk about myself, I never know where to start.”
“Start anywhere,” I said. “I’m not picky. What kind of food do you like to eat? What’s your favorite TV show? It doesn’t have to be deep.”
She gave a shaky laugh. “Well, I love crappy Chinese food—the kind where your sweet-and-sour chicken is that particular shade of neon orange. Americana Chinese food, I guess. Nothing authentic about it. With fried rice and egg rolls. Favorite TV show? Anything mind-numbing that helps me shut everything down. Re-runs of cooking shows are great, or any comedy. Bring me an action movie and I’ll even like that. What about you?”
“I can get down for some Chinese food any time. My absolute guilty pleasure is pizza dipped in ranch dressing.” She made a face. “Hey now, no judging.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry, go on.”
“My family thinks it’s disgusting too, except for Wade, who loves ranch.” Wade was my sympathizer when it came to condiments. Phiny was the one who curled her nose up at them. She was a snob when it came to food.
Fish trotted ahead of us with a rhythm that matched the swing of Hattie’s steps—like he’d folded her into our little orbit without question.
“I want to hear more about them. Your family.” Her face softened as her caramel-colored eyes turned to me while Ispoke. That was one of the things I liked about her—she really paid attention when you talked, her whole body in tune with you. Some people looked through you, but not Hattie. It probably made her really good at interviewing.
“Well, let’s see. I have two brothers, Wade and Easton. Easton is a contractor in town, and my other brother is a police officer for Wildwood Meadows. Then I have three sisters: Chloe, Delphina, and Sage. Sage, you’ve met. She owns the florist shop in town; Chloe is a nurse; and Phiny works part-time with Lila at Chapter & Crumb and as a caterer.” Her eyes got wider as I listed them off.
“Wow, that’s a big family. It must have been so much fun when you were growing up having all that company.”
That was a complicated topic with so many layers. “The Holts took us in at different ages, but we did have the chance to grow up in lots of ways together. They took me in when I was nine. No doubt about it, we were a handful.”
She was immediately contrite. “I’m sorry if …”
“I don’t mind talking about it.” And I realized I truly meant it. We’d glossed over a few things when we went for coffee, but this was how we’d get to know each other. Opening up was a two-way street. “My father died when I was nine, so I was placed into the system. The Holts gave me a chance at life with a family that sat down for dinner together, had beds to sleep in, and running water. My father was a hard man in many ways. I wouldn’t saythat he didn’t care about me. He taught me a lot: how to skin a deer, how to track, how to stay still and watch. But what he never understood was that children needed to be hugged. That touch was important. Maggie and Levi worked hard to temper my time with my father.”
She’d laid a hand on mine, her whole body softening as she watched me, her face dripping sorrow. There was more that I wasn’t saying, but it was a start.
“The Holts sound like amazing people. I’m glad you had a chance to be with them as a family.” There was a pause that seemed filled with indecision as to what she was deciding to say. “It seems like you have a good perspective on your time with your dad.”
I tried hard to think back on the good times with him instead of the times when he’d beat me until I was bent over vomiting into the dirt because I’d accidentally stepped on a branch when we were hunting and startled a deer. Or the time that he’d not let me eat for two days when he’d been having an episode. Instead of answering her, I just gave her a jerky nod. Talking extensively about the early years was hard. I’d tried to keep focused on the positives. My father had once been a good man, but he’d become lost in bad places when his mental illness grabbed hold of him. I tried to remember the skills he taught me, and that I knew he did love me, even if he had not been able to be a good father.
“My parents are divorced, but I had a really good childhood.” Her eyes unfocused as she looked over the crowd. “We had a nice house, and dinner at the table. I was lucky for a long time.”
There was no way I was going to ask a follow-up question, but they burned inside me, piling one on top of the other until they tripped over themselves in my mind, where I held them back.
“Then my sister went missing. That’s why I started the podcast.” She finished and looked up at the lanterns strung between the poles, their soft glow catching just the edges of her lashes as she tipped her chin all the way up towards the sky.
“Your sister?” Everything suddenly became clear to me.
