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Molly Beardsley, devoted fan of the Hungry with Hollis website, is so invested in Hollis’s Five-Star Weekend going well that she wakes up at six a.m. in Twain Harte, California, and checks the weather 3,107 miles away on Nantucket Island. Friday is going to be clear and sunny with a high of seventy-six degrees. Molly is overjoyed for Hollis! All her fans wish they could somehow watch Hollis prepare for the weekend. How is she handling the details? Does she have one master list or several sublists?
Long before Molly Beardsley is awake in California, Hollis is driving past a field of lilies, zinnias, cosmos, and snapdragons in rainbow-hued rows at Bartlett’s Farm. It’s a vista worthy of Monet, of Renoir, and Hollis considers stopping to take a picture, but she’s on a mission. She pulls into the parking lot of the farm market at 7:55.
She did end up reading some of the debate on her website. Is it too soon for Hollis to be hosting a girls’ weekend?
Oh, probably,she thinks. But it has lifted her spirits and given her something to look forward to. And since she’s throwing it, she’ll do it her way. End of discussion.
At eight o’clock sharp, market manager Lily Callahan (who happens to be a frequent visitor to the Hungry with Hollis website; she knows what Hollis is doing here!) flips the sign toOPEN.
Just inside the front door, Hollis stops at the display of fresh flowers. There are galvanized-metal buckets of lilies in white, yellow, peach, and something called “double pink.” Hollis selects five stems, then chooses four mixed bouquets that were picked earlier that morning, their petals still damp from the sprinklers. Then it’s on to the corn. The ears are snugged into the crib side by side and end to end like a neat puzzle. (Lily Callahan loves to look at the corncrib first thing in the morning. By late afternoon, the corn will be ravaged by people stopping by after the beach, ears flung willy-nilly and half stripped despite the sign that saysPLEASE DO NOT SHUCK THE CORN!) Next, Hollis selects hothouse tomatoes, organic butter lettuce, cucumbers, zucchini, and summer squash. She moves on to the herbs: fresh dill, fresh basil, a bunch of chives, and what Lily and the rest of the staff refer to as “porn-star mint” (it’s very well endowed). Hollis glides her cart over to the cheese case, where she chooses Taleggio and a clothbound cheddar (five-star cheese; Lily approves!), fancy crackers, a couple sticks of Italian salami, Marcona almonds, a can of salt-and-pepper Virginia peanuts (they’re ridiculously addictive), and Alfonso olives.
She holds the olives out to Lily (who has been trying to keep her distance but who is obviously stalking Hollis) and says, “No one ever eats olives, but I love this purple color.”
“Oh!” Lily says, feeling caught. “Me too!”
A short hop from Bartlett’s is Hollis’s favorite fish market, 167 Raw. Maria, who manages the counter at 167,worshipsHollis Shaw, but she won’t do the obvious thing and ask for a picture. She fills Hollis’s order—four pounds of harpooned swordfish—and throws in a container of 167’s legendary guacamole “on the house.”
“Aren’t you sweet?” Hollis says.
Maria nearly suggests that Hollis serve the guacamole as an appetizer on Sunday evening before the pizza party, but she won’t be that person. Will she? She opens her mouth to speak but all she ends up saying is “Have fun this weekend!”
Hollis’s expression is inscrutable. “I’m going to try!” she says.
Hollis’s final and, she would argue, most important stop is Hatch’s, the liquor store. There’s no way Hollis can host this weekend without wine. Lots of wine.
Store owner Ethan Falcone isn’t a follower of the Hungry with Hollis website but he recognizes Hollis the second she walks in because she went to high school with his wife, Terri (Prentiss) Falcone. They were on the same softball team; they won the state championship their junior year, then lost it in their senior year in a game so heartbreaking that Terri still gets upset about it. And hasn’t Terri recently brought up Hollis’s name for some reason? Ethan could swear the answer is yes but he can’t remember why. Terri runs a small haircut place on Old South Road and she tells Ethan so much gossip about so many people that he can’t keep track of it all.
Ethan watches Hollis choose midrange bottles of pinot grigio, sauvignon blanc, chardonnay, and rosé. She also picks up two bottles of Casa Dragones tequila (Ethan approves), two bottles of Triple 8 vodka, and a bottle each of Hendrick’s gin and Mount Gay rum. She gets in line, then swings her cart around and heads for the champagne aisle. She plucks two bottles of Veuve Clicquot off the shelf and goes back to the register.
When she reaches the counter, Ethan says, “Hey there, Hollis.”
“Hey…” Hollis says in a way that reveals she’s forgotten his name. That’s okay; Ethan doesn’t mind. He really only knows Hollis because of Terri’s (unnatural?) obsession with her high-school softball team. Still, Ethan likes to chat; it’s his favorite part of the job. People come into the liquor store in both good times and bad—job security!—and from the looks of it, Hollis is hosting a big party.
“How’s everything?” Ethan asks.
“Oh, just fine, thanks,” Hollis says.
“How’s the good doctor? I haven’t seen him once all summer.”
The smile falls off Hollis’s face so quickly, it should have a sound effect, and in that instant, Ethan remembers why Terri brought up Hollis’s name.Her husband, the big-shot doc at Mass General, died.
Hollis regards Ethan and says, frankly, “Matthew died in December.”
I’m such a squid,Ethan thinks. But he’s always been good with people, so he will salvage the moment. “I’m so sorry to hear that,” he says. “He was a very personable guy and I always enjoyed chatting with him. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” Hollis whispers.
Ethan starts ringing up her purchases, sliding the bottles into the cardboard slots of a large box. He wants to tell Hollis her purchases are on the house but… she’s bought a lot of stuff, and he’s trying to run a business. “That’ll be five hundred and eleven dollars.”
While Hollis inserts her card into the machine, Ethan tries to think what else he can do. “Let me help you get this out to the car.”
Hollis leads Ethan to her vintage Bronco, and after Ethan loads the box, he opens his arms for a hug. She quickly embraces him and says, “Thank you, Evan.”
“It’s Ethan,” he says and they both laugh. Then Ethan remembers something else. “You know what Terri used to call your husband?”
Hollis blinks.
“Your husband would go to Terri for a haircut every once in a while.”
