Page 61 of Happiness for Beginners

“Who is he taken by?” Hugh wanted to know.

For a second there, I really did expect them to say something like, “Oh, some mystery woman back at home. He’s been in love with her for ages.” I was gearing up for a poker face, ready to deny all, when Dosie said, “Windy. Of course.”

“He’s taken with Windy?” I said.

“She’s liked him this whole time, and now he likes her back.”

“How do you know that?” I asked.

“We have our methods.”

I was ready to argue with them, but then Hugh jumped in with, “Perfect. They’re perfect for each other.”

“Perfect seems a bit strong,” I said.

Hugh lifted his eyebrows. “He’s articulate, and so is she. He’s handsome in that all-American way, and she’s—well, let’s face it, she’sgorgeous. Sorry, ladies. You really couldn’t invent a better couple. They’re both lean, and tan, and thoughtful. They have great calves. Great teeth. And he’s got thatjawline. Do not get me started on the jawline.”

So it hit me: It wasn’t that Hugh was quiet, exactly. We just hadn’t stumbled on a topic he liked. Until now.

“They both love sailing,” Uno piped up.

“And they both have family summer homes in Maine.”

“And they both like sheepdogs.”

“And waffle fries.”

“And neither one likes French food.”

“And they’re our two best bear-hangers.”

“Wow,” I said then. “The two best bear-hangers! Why aren’t they married already?”

“Good question,” Hugh said. “We’ll have to check in about that tonight.”

***

Actually, we would not check in about it that night. Because, as we walked along, Hugh did something he wasn’t supposed to. Somethingnone of uswere supposed to. Maybe he was distracted. Maybe he forgot. Maybe Beckett had given us so many warnings about so many catastrophic things that he’d begun to seem like he was crying wolf. Whatever the reason, the fact remained: Hugh was stepping on tree trunks. And as Beckett had warned us, if you stepped on enough of them, one was bound to be rotten.

We’d come to a section of the trail that was lousy with fallen trees across the path. It was a sunnier, thinned-out patch of forest, too, as if something—a flood, maybe, or a drought—had hit this spot hard, and now the bodies of the trees that had succumbed still lay where they fell.

At the back of the line, I wondered what had killed them all.

But Hugh and the Sisters didn’t notice. They were planning Jake and Windy’s boho-style wilderness wedding, swooning over every mental picture.

“He’d be so handsome in a tux,” Uno said.

“He won’t wear a tux,” Hugh declared, stepping up on a trunk and then back down.

“Not like an Al’s Formal Wear tux,” Uno persisted, behind him, coming to the same trunk and straddling over it, like we’d been told. “Like a shawl-collar tux. A Cary Grant tux.”

“No,” Hugh said, stepping up on the next trunk. “He’s too awesome for a tux. He’ll wear a brown vest with a loose tie and his sleeves rolled up to the elbows.”

“A loose bow tie?”

“A loose long tie,” Hugh corrected, stepping up on the next trunk, then down.

“I kind of like bow ties,” Dosie said.

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