“She was a dance instructor, wasn’t she?” Hugh asked.
My mom rolled her eyes with a smirk. “Yeah, that’s what she called it. Anyway, Patty next door said that Beth’s daughter had said she’d seen you in an ad on her phone, for some high-end sneakers, I think?”
“I did a campaign for Shingo, yeah,” I replied.
“Well, needless to say, everyone at the club is very jealous that my daughter is famous.”
Hugh laughed politely, but I knew he’d be dying inside at the idea that doing ads was something to aspire to. He’d been encouraging about my work at the rehearsal dinner, but I didn’t believe he actually respected it—compared to what he did, I was just a walking billboard.
“I don’t know, Mom,” I said, chewing on my nail.
She slapped my hand out of my mouth and wagged my finger at me; it was a life-long nervous habit.
“Don’t you think it’s a bit shallow, what I do? I wonder if I should be doing something more with my life.”
“Like what?” Dad asked.
I felt three searching sets of eyes on me. I didn’t have a clue what I could do; having studied fashion at college, I wasn’t exactly qualified for much.
For the past few months, I’d had a nagging feeling that something was missing in my life, a feeling that intensified over the past twenty-four hours.
Of course, Hugh and Cameron had made me aware of a hole that needed filling but it was more than just a relationship I needed.
I craved fulfillment, passion, and satisfaction, and as fun as photoshoots and free cocktails were, they didn’t light a fire in me like obscure by-laws excited Hugh or helping people excited Cameron.
Even Jasmine, one of the shallowest people in my friendship circle, had a passion for the elaborate costumes she designed.
Me? I just sold stuff.
With no idea of how to answer the question, I just threw my hands in the air and then took a big bite of cookie.
“You could be an ‘influencer’ for good causes,” Hugh suggested. When I raised an eyebrow, he went on to elaborate. “You can advertise cute shoes, but you can also use your position to help people and raise funds, like to rebuild places around here that the storm has ruined. I dunno, maybe?”
Hugh shrugged dismissively, but if my parents hadn’t been here, I’d have kissed him so hard he’d have passed out.
“That’s genius. I can do that. And you know what? I’m going to start with Agnes.”
My heart swelled even more to see my moody man smile.
“Agnes Butterfield? She is such a lovely woman,” Mom said, and she didn’t add any gossipy facts about her, which meant the woman must be a saint.
“I’m going to get her a new car.” I slammed my hand on the table with determination. “My followers are nice, and they’ve all got grandmas, so they can relate to the issue. If they can pay two hundred dollars for a pair of sneakers, goddammit they can donate twenty to a lovely old lady.”
“Language, Muriel,” Mom barked.
I mouthed an apology. I’d almost forgotten where I was, I was so pumped up and inspired.
“It sounds like a wonderful idea,” Dad said. “And maybe if you’re going to focus on local issues, we’ll see you around here more often?”
“I think you might. Say, you think Cameron will like this idea?” I addressed the question to Hugh, and he grinned at me dopily.
“He’ll love it.”
“You’ve seen Cameron since you’ve been back, too?” Mom’s eyebrows raised, and she leaned back in her chair in a way that made me sit up straighter in mine. “You saw both your old boyfriends before us?”
“They’re not my boyfriends,” I instinctively retorted, instantly regretted it, and took a large, anxiety-fueled bite of cookie.
“Cameron was at the dinner last night, too, so we all caught up,” Hugh tactfully explained.
Mom’s face stormed over for a moment, but then she broke out into a huge smile. “I’m just messing with you, Muriel. You’ve got every right to catch up with old friends, and we always liked Cameron, didn’t we, Mike?”
Dad wrinkled his nose slightly. “Nice boy, sure, but he’s a bit too—” He waved his hands around like a hippy at Woodstock “—for me. I have no idea how he handles being a cop. No, I’ve always liked you best, Hugh.” He winked at Hugh, who struggled to contain a huge grin.
“Cameron’s sense of justice is incredible, Mr. Tennyson,” Hugh replied. “His soft heart makes him a perfect cop. But Muriel’s right, neither of us is her boyfriend.”
Both of my parents’ faces made it clear they didn’t believe him, but they must have thought better of pressing any further. I breathed a sigh of relief as Dad changed the subject, addressing Hugh with an outstretched hand.
“By the way, I meant to thank you for reporting on the safety issues out at the lumber mill.” The two men shook hands, and Hugh appeared genuinely touched by the gratitude.