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Hannah laughed, but realized Noelle was right.
A very small blonde woman was staring up at him with adoration on her face, and he seemed totally unfazed by it. He just kept talking to her about bell peppers. It was adorable, which made her angry.
“He doesn’t talk to me like that,” she said. “I mean, he turns on that misanthrope smile, but it’s calculated.”
“Yes, to get in your pants. With you, he’s actually flirting. Oh! Oh, that’s it. He’s not trying to have sex with any of these people. Also, I have to give credit,” Noelle added, her shoulders hunched in annoyance, “his hair looks fantastic.”
It did, damn him.
“Do you remember,” Hannah asked, turning her head to Noelle, “when you were trying to decide whether or not to get together with Miri, and I told you if I had the choice to do it all over again, I would?”
“Yes.” Noelle nodded slowly. “I remember that pivotal conversation that helped me make a major, life-altering decision. Why?”
“I was wrong, NoNo. I want to take it all back. Being in love with him is too hard.”
“Yeah, because he fucking sucks, and you should forget he ever existed.”
He turned from the conversation he was having, his eyes seeking her out as if they were two magnets. This is what it had been like between them for years, maybe always. When one was in a room in the house, anywhere in the greater Upstate New York area, the other knew. He raised an eyebrow, a silent communication in a language she no longer wanted to speak, and she turned away so he wouldn’t see the tear tracks on her face.
Noelle followed. “I’m going to get sandwiches from Collin’s diner. There’s too much toxic sexual tension in this hotel, and not enough carbs.”
“We have food here.” Hannah sniffled. “Free food. Made by a chef who isfamous in Australia.” She said this last with a sarcastic hand flourish.
“A, we do not have sandwiches, because there’s no bread in the entire inn. B, if we did, they would be traitor sandwiches,” Noelle declared.
“Collin’s egg saladisbetter,” Hannah said. “Are you too mad at me to bring me soup back? I have to do this filming thing with Chef Suave over there.”
“Extra pickle?” Noelle asked, knowing full well Hannah wanted an extra pickle.
“Maybe two.” It was a multi-pickle day.
Governor Davenport was unable to be as involved in the planning of his daughter’s wedding as he would have hoped. He’d decided the reasonable solution for that problem was to have a videographer follow Delilah around for the entire process. As a side benefit, he would be able to use the footage later for campaign material. Hannah agreed to this because she liked Governor Davenport’s policies and wanted him reelected, and because the videographer promised to make Carrigan’s look amazing on camera and she was hoping to use some of it for their own ads.
While Delilah and her betrothed wandered the grounds taking selfies with Miriam and going live from the reindeer enclosure, Hannah and Levi were meant to be explaining to the camera what Levi was preparing for the upcoming engagement party, while he demonstrated some recipes. The videographer and wedding planner had justified this terrible idea by repeating that it should be cake for Levi, a TV chef, to cook on camera. “Pretend you’re filming a segment!” they said breezily.
This was all fine except that for reasons none of them had articulated to her satisfaction, they also wanted Hannah to appear in this segment, despite the fact that she couldn’t even cook.
“Never underestimate the lure of a beautiful blonde!” the videographer said vaguely. Why she might want to be luring Governor Davenport was unclear. They arranged her braid over one shoulder so it glowed a dark honey under the lights and positioned her behind the kitchen counter, too close to Blue.
“Okay, Hannah,” Levi began in a voice that was nothing like his own. His TV voice sounded like he’d invented a separate alter ego. Maybe he had. “Tell me what we’re prepping for this week at Carrigan’s Christmasland. What do we do on a Christmas tree farm in the middle of spring?”
“Well, the trees keep growing year-round, Levi,” Hannah deadpanned, “so the farmers are still farming. But the Christmasland Inn hosts visitors and celebrations all year. This week we’re celebrating a wonderful holiday about rebirth and welcoming the renewal of the world.”
“Easter?” Levi asked, skeptical.
She laughed. “We’re Jewish, dude.”
“I know,” he said seriously, pointing to his yarmulke. “So, what are we celebrating?”
“May Day!” She gestured, with jazz hands.
“Also not a Jewish holiday,” he pointed out.
“Fair point.” Hannah smiled at the camera. “We are hosting an engagement party tomorrow. The couple wanted something fun and informal. The groom is Welsh, and apparently it’s a whole bank holiday there? So the bride asked us to plan a May Day festival, complete with maypoles, flower crowns, and morris dancers.”
“I love Wales. It’s so wonderfully eccentric,” Levi said.
“Me too! Did you know Cardiff has two separate radical queer bookshops?” Hannah replied.
