“Is ‘Harvest Festival’ a fancy way of saying Thanksgiving?” Lara asked.
“No, the Thanksgiving parade is on Thanksgiving.” April pointed to that date as well. The parade was indeed written in.
“We have too many parades in this town.”
April was not the person to be having this conversation with. She pouted, and Lara instantly regretted saying anything.
“I like the parades. They’re fun. And we get to be in this one!”
“Who’s we?” Lara had a sneaking suspicion that “we” somehow included her, even though she had spent a combined five minutes of her life thinking about this parade.
“Anyone from Tight Knit who wants to join us on the float. Not everyone from the group. I don’t think we could fit that many. But I’m going to let everyone know next meeting. The kids should get a kick out of it, although they might want to be in the crowd getting candy instead of throwing it away on the floats. Tommy’s going to stay with Cynthia and his dad. He says he’s doing it to help watch over her, but I think he wants candy too. He may be a teenager, but he’s not that mature yet.” A small smile graced April’s lips as she pounded a nail into the side of the float to hold a new streamer in place. “This would probably be easier to staple. Can you grab the staple gun for me, Lara?”
Lara surveyed the tool rack and found what she was looking for. This was the kind of helping that someone who’d been part of exactly zero high school extracurriculars could do. Retrieving tools was about as helpful as she was going to be.
This project reminded her how many tools April had, everything from screwdrivers to saws. They had started appearing one by one after her divorce.
Who knew April would ever look so comfortable swinging a hammer around in her paint-splattered overalls, a thin layer of sweat gluing her bangs to her forehead? But there was always a project to be done, whether that was repairing the house, building something for one of the kids, or creating something for one of her own craft projects. It had been impressive, really, how April had been determined to take matters into her own hands. She didn’t need a handyman husband if she could learn the trades herself.
She accepted the staple gun from Lara with a gracious nod. The hammer clacked against the float as she tossed it onto the bed.
“That’s better.” April mumbled to herself as she worked happily. The steady click of the staples and rustle of the streamers formed a comforting rhythm. Lara took a careful seat on top of a storage bin labeled “Christmas” and watched, waiting for April to give her more orders.
“How’s it going with Kerry?”
“What?” Lara fidgeted, transferring her weight from one hand to the other so as not to put too much pressure on the less than sturdy bin beneath her.
“You guys are still dating, right? How’s it going?” April glanced up from her work briefly, and her smile was mischievous.
Lara groaned, but flashed April a smile to let her know she wasn’t totally annoyed. Should she tell April about Kerry? Part of her wanted to talk about it, but April was enjoying this far too much.
“It’s nice,” Lara said. That was the official statement so far. “It’s only been two dates. I don’t know what to tell you.”
“What did you guys do? What’d you talk about?” April took a seat on the unfinished edge of the float and looked at Lara expectantly, as giddy for the details as Lara’s mother had been when she’d gone on her first “date” with Josh Finny when she was twelve.
April’s excitement was infectious, and Lara supposed she might as well spill the details.
“We went to Clandestine Orchards. Walked through the pumpkin patch, drank fresh apple cider. She told me about growing up in the country. We talked about our crazy families. It was fairly standard.” Lara decided not to mention last night’s breaking and entering. God forbid anyone find out that another Spellmeyer in town was a criminal.
“Did you have a good time?”
“Yeah, I did. It was a nice break from the routine.”
“That’s good.” April abandoned the stapler. She picked up a can of pink spray paint and gave it a few vigorous shakes. “Kerry said she had a nice time too.”
Lara squinted her eyes. “If you already talked to Kerry about it, why are you asking me?”
“I’m getting both sides of the story. Isn’t that what they do in journalism?”
Lara scrunched her nose. “Why ask me about journalism? I answer interviews, not give them.”
“Well, you dated a journalist for a few years.”
“We kept the journalism out of the bedroom.”
April laughed and nodded. She wiped a sliver of stringy hair behind her ear. “How are things going with her by the way?”
“You mean the project? Good, I guess. I gave another interview. Paige says she really likes what she has so far. She’s working on the video we made.”
“I didn’t mean the project.”
Lara picked a string of yarn off her jacket. She felt like a spider spinning silk. “What did you mean?”
“You’ve been spending a lot of time together.”
“Yeah, for the project.”
“And that time you went out for ice cream? That was for the project?”
Lara really regretted telling April that story.
“If you’re insinuating that I might get back together with Paige, I’m going to accuse you of huffing too many of those paint fumes.”
April laughed again and shook the spray can once more for good measure. “Okay, okay, I get it. But don’t act like it’s that ridiculous of an assumption.”
“It really is,” Lara promised.
“Is it?” April was serious now. She sat on the edge of the float and took a greedy swig of water. She pondered carefully, water bottle cap in hand. “You have history, you were together for years, and you’re getting along again. You’re both single, and you’re clearly back in the dating game if you were willing to give Kerry a chance.”
“You think I’d pick Paige over Kerry?”
April shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not saying that you would, or even that you should, but if David came to me tomorrow saying he wanted to try again, I can’t be sure what I’d say. I loved him once, and you loved Paige once. Feelings like that don’t ever go away. Not fully.”
Lara crossed her arms over her chest. She’d thought April was teasing her, not making a serious accusation. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Don’t be dense, Lara.”
“I’m not being dense! Maybe you feel that way about David, but I’ve been over Paige for a long time.”
“Look, I’m not the biggest fan of Paige either,” April said. “She obviously hurt you, and I think you’re better off with someone like Kerry. I’m just letting you know what it looks like from an outside perspective.”
The thought made Lara’s head hurt. She didn’t know if this was actually about her and Paige or if this was April’s way of talking about David. April could talk her head off about anything, but never about her ex-husband. It was a sore spot, understandably. Lara never pestered her about the subject.
“Things aren’t always what they look like, April. I thought you of all people would know that.”
“I just noticed that you were spending more time with her,” April defended. “When she came to that first Tight Knit meeting, I thought she was interviewing you for the newspaper article, but when it came out, I saw that she hadn’t used any quotes from you. I figured you must have been talking about something else, and I figured that meant you were on speaking terms again. Kerry said you mentioned her a couple times too. I thought maybe you guys had made up and become friends again.”
“We haven’t. We were talking about the project that day at Tight Knit,” Lara explained. “She did try to interview me, but I told her I didn’t want to be a part of the article. I didn’t think anything of bringing Paige up to Kerry. I was telling her about my work.” Lara kicked at an oil stain on the concrete. “Did Kerry seem jeal
ous or something?” Lara tried not to sound too interested in the answer, but her voice betrayed her, rising a little.
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe a little.” April’s tone was taunting. “If you go on a date with someone and they bring up their ex, it’s hard not to feel a little jealous, I’d imagine.”
Lara blushed. “I didn’t mean to make her jealous. I don’t think I even realized I mentioned Paige.”
“Doesn’t that make it worse?”
Lara quirked her neck. “How so?”
“That means she’s on your mind.”
“Because of the project, April.”
April raised her hands in defense. “If you say so.” She took the spray can and added the first stripe of pink to the ball of yarn. One thread down, a million more to go. “I’m just saying, you’re obviously thinking about her more than you’re letting on. You’re acting like talking to her is the worst thing in the world, when it’s probably actually a good thing.”
“Why is that a good thing? Aren’t you implying that it upset Kerry?”
“Not upset her, just made her wonder. And I’m not talking about Kerry. I’m talking about you. If you’re thinking of Paige, that means you have a chance to patch things up.” Lara opened her mouth to interject, but April beat her to it. “I’m not saying you should date her again, but it’d be nice to see you let go of some of your anger and forgive her.”
“Why is that nice? You’re not friends with Paige.”
“I’m not friends with her, but you used to be. You could use a little forgiveness in your life, Lara Spellmeyer. You hold grudges like a sloth holds a branch. It’ll feel good to let go. I promise. If I can forgive David, you can forgive anyone.”
Cheating was definitely worse than anything Paige had done, but April was the type of person who forgave. Lara wasn’t. She rarely had reason to be. Most people showed their true colors the first time they messed up, and it was rare for anyone to genuinely change, especially drastically.
Holding grudges took its toll, but so did trusting people and getting hurt.
“Do you want to help me with this?” April asked, cutting the tension with the distraction.
Lara grit her teeth. If she got too involved with this parade, April might expect her to go. Lara had liked the parades when she was a kid, but the older she became, the more she saw them as nothing more than traffic jams. Still, Lara welcomed the change of conversation. She didn’t want to argue anymore.
“I’ve never built a float before,” she admitted.
“You ever spray paint?”
“No. The graffiti under the Charleston bridge is really pretty, and I can admire a good tag, but spray painting is not something I ever picked up. I’m not that creative.”
“You create art for a living,” April countered. “And painting papier-mâché isn’t as difficult as tagging a bridge. You’ll do fine.”
April held out a second can of spray paint and crooked an eyebrow like Lara was one of her children trying to get out of their daily chores. Lara sighed and grabbed the can, not seeing a way out of this one.
April’s smile was triumphant. “Just help me get the first layer on. I’ll add the details later.”
After a quick tutorial of how the spray can worked, Lara was standing beside April on the float. She had a sneaking suspicion that this wasn’t the last time they’d be standing here together. The work wasn’t abysmal, though. Aside from an annoying splatter on the first few sprays and the nozzle clogging up with paint a handful of times, the process was therapeutic and admittedly kind of fun. They had to open the garage door to air out the paint fumes, but the chilly fall wind that came with it wasn’t as bothersome as the questioning stares from the neighbors. Even that, Lara eventually blocked out as she worked.
“What are you going to do with the float after the parade is over?” Lara asked.
April stared at her work. The look in her eye was something Lara didn’t see in her often: confusion. “I didn’t think that far ahead.”
A surprised laugh left Lara’s body. Maybe April was human after all.
CHAPTER 14
Lara had never visited the Daily Page website before. She knew it existed, but she had spent the last four years avoiding it. But to her surprise, she didn’t immediately feel a pang of disgust as she clicked the link to the site Paige had attached in her email.
Your video is live! It should get people excited. And maybe help your image a little.
She had read the email first thing that morning but hadn’t been able to bring herself to look at the website without a bit of caffeine encouragement. An impromptu trip to Mozart got her out of her stuffy house and into a new environment, and she’d picked a different table and a different drink than usual. She sat alone in the middle of the cafe with her laptop open and a caramel cappuccino at her side. The noise of the cafe drowned everything out and comforted her, making her feel invisible and insignificant. Crowded places were always Lara’s favorite.
The website was simple and well organized. Whoever had designed it clearly had no input from Paige, which was probably for the best.
It wasn’t hard for Lara to find her video. It was right there on the front page, highlighted as part of their weekly most popular segments.
The video had almost two thousand views, which meant that basically everyone in Perry had seen it. Lara’s Instagram stories got fifty times as many views, but somehow these numbers surprised her more. The video must have been decent. Or horrifically bad. Those were the only two reasons people would watch.
Lara’s mouse hovered over the play button. The thumbnail was Lara on her couch with a title card beneath her displaying her name. It was fortunately not unflattering. The title ghosted over the image like a silhouette. “Hometown Heroes Candidate Lara Spellmeyer Talks the Heritage of Knitting.”
Her fingertips raked against the track pad of her laptop. Could she bring herself to watch it? No. She didn’t want to. She already knew what the interview was about, and she remembered everything she’d said. And if Lara’s message had been butchered by whoever edited this video, she didn’t want to see that either.
But the comments section intrigued her.
She scrolled down to the bottom of the page, not expecting to find much. Commenting required that someone cared enough to sign up for an account, and Lara couldn’t imagine who would bother taking the time to do that. To her surprise, there was more than one comment.
D. Baker replied, My mom liked to knit! Never got the hang of it myself haha. Didn’t do so great as a Girl Scout.
Pamela P. said, I know Lara from the library. Nice lady.
The last comment was the first chronologically. That’s my girl. Lara didn’t have to read the name to know it was Betty.
Lara’s heart fluttered, and it wasn’t from chugging too much of her cappuccino in one sip. She didn’t know how her grandmother had seen the video, much less commented on it. As far as she was aware, Betty barely knew what the Internet was.
Lara had almost forgotten she was in a public place, even though the subconscious reminder was the only thing keeping her from crying on the spot. Her hand reached out to close her laptop, and as soon as the screen lowered, she saw a figure slink into the seat opposite her.
“This seat taken, Spellmeyer?”
Lara was so taken aback that she forgot to answer the question, not that any answer she gave would have stopped Genie anyway.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you outside of the library.” In her daze, Lara managed to find the words. She racked her memory for a single instance where she’d run into Genie at the grocery store or the bowling alley or anywhere that wasn’t the checkout counter or the break room of the library. She couldn’t come up with anything. Genie was the only person in Perry that Lara didn’t bump into on a regular basis. She was just like her name, elusive and mysterious. The library was her magic lamp, and the rest of the earthly world was off limits for her mystical form.
“My coffeemak
er broke or else I wouldn’t be here.” Genie lifted her mug in a toast and gulped half of it in one drink. When she slammed the cup back onto the plate, the noise was so loud that Lara heard it clearly over the rest of the busy atmosphere. The liquid that sloshed violently in the cup was dead black. There wasn’t a single grain of sugar or drop of cream anywhere near that brew.
“Actually, you know what?” Genie said. “My coffeemaker didn’t break. My husband broke it by thinking he suddenly knew how to cook anything other than ice or cereal. I’m only here because he’s a dumbass, and if he thinks I’m getting him a cup to go, he’s dead wrong.” Genie somehow lifted the cup more aggressively than she had slammed it down, and she downed the rest of the liquid like a shot. This time she set the cup down with conviction. Nothing was left but a murky black residue swimming in the bottom of the ceramic like a sea monster.
“Do they do refills here?” Genie asked casually, as if she hadn’t just chugged enough caffeine to restart a corpse’s heart.
Lara shook her head.
“Damn.” Genie grabbed the empty cup by the body and tilted it towards her, apparently hoping that if she stared at the bottom long enough it would magically refill. After a moment she let it clink against her plate again. “This place sucks. They don’t even have magazines. The only thing on the news rack was newspapers.” She made a gagging sound, and no noise had ever so closely encapsulated how Lara felt about newspapers.
“You hate The Daily Page?”
“You ever seen me read a newspaper? They’re boring enough as is, but, Jesus, the one we have is written by third graders.” Genie leaned forward in her chair, indignant. “Do you know how many spelling errors I find in that newspaper every time my husband leaves it lying around? They misspelled something in the crossword once. Did you see that?”
Was it that bad? Lara had spent years shitting on The Daily Page, but now that she was tangentially involved with it, it didn’t seem as awful as it used to. Betty enjoyed it. It helped advertise Tight Knit. It offered dream jobs to people like Paige and Lorraine. It had given Lara bad press, but it had given her some good press too.
Tight Knit Page 13