Page 27 of Baby, It’s You (Clairesville #1)

Hunter

W e drive through an old money neighborhood with matching brick houses one after another, like someone copied and pasted them on the land. All the lawns are perfectly manicured, not a single weed to be seen. My old diesel truck sticks out like a sore thumb on this upper-class street.

“So, you thrift shop?” Olive asks from the passenger seat.

“Yeah.” I glance over at her. “My dad, uh, passed away last year.” I stammer and pause for a second, hating that the words are true.

“We used to go thrift shopping together. He had a huge vintage model car collection that I now have so I want to keep the shelf growing. Thrift stores are always a good place to find them.”

Olive reaches over and touches my right hand, which rests on my thigh. “I’m sorry about your dad.”

I'm taken aback by her physical gesture of sympathy and just want to grab on to her hand and hold it. When she moves it away a moment later, my own hand feels cold and empty.

“It’s okay,” I tell her. “I mean, it’s not okay , but it’s not going to change. I feel the saddest for my mom, who lost not only her husband but also her best friend. My dad was her everything.”

“That must be so hard for her. But that’s also beautiful to hear, that they were so connected,” Olive explains.

“Marriages where the couple actually continues to like each other are rare. In my opinion at least.” She laughs a little when she says it, but I can tell there is more meaning behind her statement.

“Yeah, they were meant for each other.” I think over if I should say anything and then decide to pry a little. “What are your parents like?”

I see her shrink into herself. I regret saying anything immediately. As if I’m saved by the bell, my phone alerts me that we have reached our destination.

Olive looks out the window to her right as I turn into the driveway of a giant brick house with white pillars.

“Wow,” she breathes out.

“This place is insane,” I say. The house must be at least three stories tall.

“Alright, well I’m officially intimidated.” She looks at me anxiously. “What if this guy is a dick?”

“Are you judging someone by the size of their house?” I joke.

“Yes! I am!” She widens her eyes at me. “This place looks like it has a butler named James.”

“Well, good thing you're dressed like a butler then,” I tease, and she stares down at her work uniform. “You guys will get along great.”

“This uniform is horrible, I know. I swear Tripp just makes me wear it to piss me off.”

My gaze lingers on her. “You make the uniform look good. Really good.” I rub at my facial hair and continue, “I’m still anxiously awaiting the first time I get to meet Tripp.”

“Thank you.” She lowers her eyes at the compliment. “Also, trust me, you don’t want to meet him.” She makes a horrified face. “He’s my sleep paralysis demon.”

I throw my head back, laughter bursting out of me. I never know what Olive is going to say next and I love it. I lean closer towards her and say, “Alright, listen. I’ll ring the doorbell. You can hide behind me till we make sure this guy doesn't bite. We don’t need you having two sleep demons.”

“Deal.” She flips her dark hair over her shoulder and gets out of the truck.

I grab my equipment bag from the back seat and meet her in front of the large white door. Olive vibrates nervously next to me as I click twice on the heavy brass lion-shaped door knocker.

Not even five seconds later, an elderly man wearing a black coat with a white shirt underneath opens the door. “Hello, I’m Benjamin. Mr. Purngast is waiting for you in the study, follow me.”

Olive gives me a you’ve got to be f-ing kidding me look and I hold in a laugh at the fact that he actually does have a butler.

We follow him through the fanciest entry room I have ever seen.

This house is all white marble and there is a giant crystal chandelier above our heads.

This place looks clean enough to eat off the floor.

Our footsteps echo as we walk. I wonder how someone of this status ended up in Whiskey’s and how he is friends with Johnny, quirks and all.

Benjamin knocks twice on a set of double doors, and I hear a Southern drawl respond, “Enter.”

He opens the doors and moves to the side, where a man behind a giant mahogany desk stands to greet us.

I almost sigh with relief when I see Ted.

Instead of an uppity rich socialite coming towards us, it’s a small, old man dressed like he raided Adam Sandler’s closet.

He has a wide smile that stretches across his face, pulling a giant caterpillar mustache with it.

He looks like a cartoon in the best way.

“You must be Olive and Hunter. Ted Purngast,” he announces with his gruff Southern twang as he enthusiastically shakes Olive's hands in introduction. When he does, her whole body moves from his aggressive happy shake, and I stifle another laugh. He turns to me next and does the same, my arm vibrating with his strength. For such a small guy, he’s really got some power in that grip.

Olive is grinning now. “Thank you so much for meeting with us, Mr. Purngast. I’m excited you are willing to tell us your story.”

“Please call me Ted,” he explains. “Anything for my friend Johnny.”

“How do you know Johnny?” Olive chuckles.

“He is quite the character, huh?” Ted says. Olive nods and he continues, “We grew up together actually, in the Sunny Brights Trailer Park right by the bottom of Jewel Mountain.”

“No way! I lived there, too, as a kid!” She lights up. “Johnny and I talk about it all the time. I'm sure they were a lot nicer when you were kids though.”

Hearing this bit of information about her past, I mentally write it down on my Olive List. I want to absorb every piece of information she gives crumbs of.

Ted snorts in response. “You would be surprised. I spent years with a bucket next to my bed growing up because there was a giant hole in our ceiling.”

Olive nods her head in agreement and jokes, “That sounds about right. ‘Welcome to Sunny Brights, where every trailer comes with duct tape and a prayer that your place won't blow away.’ Man, they were the worst. So how did you end up here then? Sorry if that’s too forward, but this place is incredible .”

“Well, that’s part of my story, actually. Would you like to get your camera before I start?”

I nod quickly and begin assembling my Sony. After clicking on my lens, I turn and let them both know I’m ready. They each sit on a white couch across from each other.

Scooting next to Olive’s side across from Ted, I press record and give him a thumbs up.

“The year was 1981 and I was a homeless alcoholic…”

Olive and I shoot each other a look, knowing we have just struck gold.