Talk of the Town

[Avery Grace Andrews]

Avery rang up Mrs. Davis quietly while she listened to the woman chatter happily with her grandmother.  If there was one thing old women were good at in a small town it was spreading gossip quicker than a wildfire in a drought.  But Avery knew better than to indulge in the simple pleasures of old women; gossiping could really bite you in the ass in this town. Especially if that gossip was about Christine.  Christine was a few years older than Avery in school, and she hadn't been the most pleasant.  Not that Avery was anything to write home about when she was younger, but she at least had tact.  Her granny, Miss Grace, taught her that through years of her life spent in this shop.

Miss Grace's, titled appropriately just that, had begun years before Avery's mother had even been born, and had started as a humble seamstress shop right where it was today, where her grandparents resided in the modest studio apartment upstairs.  Miss Grace had been hemming Sunday best dresses and trousers for as long as she could remember, along with mending any sort of thing the local fisherman could bring as a challenge.  A decade in they had added on the laundromat in the space next door, and started offering dry cleaning, and Avery supposed that had solidified Miss Grace's as a town staple for good.  She'd seen everything from prom dresses to fishing nets in this place while she was growing up, and this town had all but watched her grow from a baby to a young women in that very shop.  Avery probably knew just about everything there was to know about anyone in this town.  People loved telling Miss Grace their secrets; there was something so knowing about her.

"Now, I'm not saying she should've turned down business, but how awkward it must be to be making a wedding cake for your brother's ex-fiance," Mrs. Davis was saying, "That poor dear, trying to build a business here, he sure hasn't welcomed her with open arms, has he?"  She was referring to Jackson.  It had been the talk of the town when his daddy passed, when everyone learned of his affair years earlier and the daughter he'd fathered with some WASP woman from the city.  His daughter was about Avery's age, and had shown up with a couple of Louis Vuitton suitcases, her hair so sleek you'd think she'd come right off a runway and into their little seaside town.  Avery supposed at first she was just there to collect her half of the money and settle what was left to be settled, but then she'd bought the Callahan's bakery right up and was putting down some roots from what anyone could tell.  Oh yes, she'd been the talk of the town for sure since she'd arrived.  Bastard daughter, Jackson hadn't taken to her well, trying to prove herself, but to whom?  Avery supposed if she'd never known her father either, she might feel inclined to submerse herself in his world a bit.  But Avery's daddy was a fisherman like the rest, and she'd just been the quiet girl next door for about as long as anyone could remember.  "But then, I guess as long as he doesn't want her here, neither will this town.  Funny how the people will do that, even after what he did to Christine."  Avery turned to pull Mrs. Davis' garments, a few dresses that needed to be let out in her growing age.  Supposedly, Jackson had been awful, and Christine had muddied up his reputation quite a bit; it had all been quite the scandal when she started shacking up with his best friend the police detective.  Even so, the town seemed to rally behind their own, and in the wake of Jackson's father's death they stood behind him like a cherished son, effectively shunning Clarke Hudson in the process.

Avery found it quite ridiculous to be honest, but she'd never meddled in other people's business; that was the hobby of old bitties. One day Avery would muster up the courage and leave for New York City.  She'd build her portfolio, and prove herself to an up and coming designer, cementing her place as an associate designer for some hot new line.  And when she came back to this town, she'd be the topic of gossip; how quiet, mousy Avery had made it in the big city.  How cultured she'd return, with stories of galas and rubbing elbows with people of interest.  She'd casually mention fixing a tear in the side seam of Blake Renner's gown at the Met Gala, and express that it was no big deal. They're just people, she'd say.

Mrs. Davis paid her in cash, and Avery handed over her dresses, secure beneath a fresh plastic garment bag, while Miss Grace nodded in her rocker, her knitting in her lap, "Time will tell, Marjorie, time will tell."  Mrs. Davis sighed, "Well I suppose it will, him going in that bakery the way he did, all in his work boots waving a white flag." She paused for effect, as if her statement was the real punch line, but she was barking up the wrong tree.  Miss Grace only smiled, "Time will tell, Marjorie."  She turned to go, "Well, you ladies take care.  And Avery, dear," she said pointedly, "You get yourself down to the lobster boil tonight, sweetheart, looking the way you do, my, you have really... blossomed."  "I'll be sure to do that, Mrs. Davis," Avery smiled sweetly.  That was a nice way of saying she had finally gotten out of her awkward years.  The Glow Up, they were calling it nowadays on Instagram.  Avery wasn't really sure what to do with her newly found refinery, not used to the lingering looks from the male gender.  She really only wanted Jackson to notice her, and it didn't really seem like she was even on his radar.

Avery had had a soft spot for Jackson since the fall of 9th grade.  He'd been a senior, and Avery had been quiet, awkward, and she was pretty certain he didn't even remember that night he had drunkenly opened the floodgates of his thoughts and dreams to her.  Jackson had told Avery things she felt at the time maybe he'd never told anyone, making her crush on him as real and permanent as a tattoo on her heart.  She had been naive; admittedly devastated when she didn't get any of the expected attention from him that she was hoping for that following Monday at school.  She'd been in love with him ever since he kissed her that night, a vulnerable moment where she thought just maybe she had seen a very private side of him, something he kept safe and hidden from the world.  And there was a very good chance he didn't remember it.  But she'd been pretty young and stupid back then.  She thought boys still picked girls up at front doors and kissed them goodnight on front porches.  She remembered over hearing Christine in the locker room, talking about intimate things, very adult things, that 9th grade Avery wasn't ready to hear about at the time, and laying in bed late that night unable to sleep with thoughts about Jackson swirling about in her mind.  Wondering if he'd ever look at her like that.  To find her desirable, sexy even.  She smirked at the thought, she had been so naive at that age, very sheltered.

Avery was brought out of her thoughts by the chime of the bell above the door, looking up to greet whichever familiar face was sure to meet hers, and her heart stuck in her chest for just a moment when she realized it was Jackson.  It was as if she had summoned him with her thoughts, she thought lamely.  She wondered if he was going to the lobster boil tonight.  Well, of course he was.  But was he going with someone?  Christine had moved on from their engagement quite fast, but according to word around town, Jackson wasn't exactly picking up girls at the local watering hole.  "Hi," Avery said, cursing herself for being a little too eager, feeling herself retreat into herself, clamming up.  "What can we help you with?" she questioned quietly, losing her nerve, glancing at the bundle of shirts he was carrying with him.  She could feel her granny's eyes burning into her, could practically hear her in his mind, say more than that, dear!  But Miss Grace only smiled at him politely and excused herself to go find her readers, leaving Avery clasping her hands like an idiot, expectantly watching him while her face started to warm with the inevitable blush.  She was pathetic.  Grow some balls, Avery, you loser.  

[Jack Hudson]

Jack wiped some of the sweat off of his brow while throwing some of the rig into the back of the truck. They may have had the best ran lobster operation on the coast; but he still wanted to make sure individually, one by one, that each of the lobsters tonight were of good quality for his town. He knew what they were saying about him, and his family, behind his back. He knew that they felt that he had done some horrible wrong to Christine. The truth of it was, he wasn’t going to soil someone else’s reputation just to clear his own. He was a firm believer in the truth eventually coming out; and getting engaged to your ex-fiances best friend just months after you two split sure did say a thing or two about someone’s character. But honestly, he’d gotten over that pretty quickly. When people showed you their true colors, you certainly didn’t have to stick around if you didn’t like the painting. He wasn’t the type to stick around for piss when people thought it was rain. He ran up to part of the crew, waiting for one of them to hold back. Fred had been with the company since Jack was no taller than the boots he was wearing. When Richard passed away, Fred had stepped in to help however he could. But you could tell the toll it was taking on the old man’s body. His wife had been diagnosed with cancer a few weeks back, and since then Jack had been handing envelopes over to Fred every Friday. He’d made sure that groceries were to be delivered, and that Mary Anne would be paid to go over there every Tuesday and Thursday to keep the house clean. After they hugged for a small moment, Jack hopped back into his truck, eager to make it to the local seamstress before they closed up shop for the day. He’d already stopped by the bakery, so he was sure that was the talk of the town.

Jack parked his truck in front of the store, looking over at his father’s shirts in the passenger seat. They still smelled like him, it was like parts of him lingered all over this town. His kindness, generosity.. people expected Jack to live up to him and fill his shoes. But at the same time, Jack knew it would kill Richard to hear how they were all talking about him now. His scandalous affair. His love child. That’s how they were remembering his father. He closed his eyes, his jaw clenching as he tried to remind himself how his father would want him to behave, which is why he was carrying on the lobster boil in his honor. Jack cleared his throat, picking up the shirts, and the box of pastries from the passenger seat before making his way in. When Avery looked up, he couldn’t help but meet her smile with his own. ”Good afternoon, Miss Avery,” he said, setting the shirts on the counter. He leaned to the side to look past her at her grandmother. “Now Miss Grace.. I know this isn’t bird feed for the little clucking hens that have been making their through town..” he said, giving a pointed look about the gossiping women of their community, “But I was hoping you wouldn’t mind taking some of Miss Clarke’s finest pastries off my hands. They’re not quite the roses a beautiful woman like yourself deserves, but they are rose water scones from what I’m told.” he said, sliding the box in her direction. “I have to watch my figure.” he said taking in a deep breath, putting his hands back on his dads shirt, focusing back on Avery. “Hey Aves,” he said a bit more quietly. “I found some of my dad’s shirts that got torn up from the boats when he was working. It’s my mom’s birthday this weekend. Do you think they can be saved?” he said with a bit of hope in his voice. He stood up straight again, picking up the shirts and laying them out on the counter so that he could show her all of the tears that were on them. It looked like a shark itself had taken to some of them instead of a lobster rig, but he was hopeful. “Hey are you all stopping by the boil tonight? I have it on good authority that the lobsters are top quality this year,”

[Avery Grace Andrews]

Avery eyed the shirts he had laid on the counter, listening to exchange between him and her grandmother.  He had always been so sweet. Avery didn't believe a word about him that had come from Christine's mouth.  He was a good boy, his father had raised him that way, just like the rest of the decent people in that town.  She looked up at him when he addressed her, calling her Aves.  She melted a little on the spot, glancing back at the shirts and picked through them gently, assessing the damage.  She nodded, "They'll have some scars, but nothing a few stitches can't fix." Kind of like people, she supposed.  Kind of like Jackson.  She began writing a ticket out for his items, mulling it over when he asked if they were going to the lobster boil.  If she didn't go surely the town would take notice.  Her granny smiled, saying something about Earl, Avery's grandpa, having to put on his dancing shoes tonight and take his lady down to the boil.  Avery smiled, "Well, if the lobster are as good this year as you're suggesting, then I guess a girl really can't refuse, now can she?"  She paused, almost stopping herself, "Are you going with anyone?"  As soon as she said it she inwardly cringed.  That didn't sound desperate at all, Avery.  Even if he wasn't, he wouldn't want to go with her.  That was sort of wishful thinking.  She blushed slightly, "Not that you need to go with anyone..." That was such a small town mindset, no one needed a date for the lobster boil.  People were more modern nowadays.  Obviously she wasn't going with anyone, she apparently struggled to carry on a proper conversation anyways.

It wasn't as if she was a social pariah or anything, she just wasn't a social butterfly growing up and being an adult people expected you to... talk a bit more.  The small talk.  And being busier in the shop and taking on more responsibility there kind of forced her to chat with people.  She just wished she had something a bit more interesting to say that might make him... you know, interested.  

[Jack Hudson]

Jackson looked at the shirts that Avery was examining in her hands. Those shirts carried the blood and sweat of the man he admired most. It pained him to see them so torn. If she was able to get them remotely to their days of glory then he knew he’d be forever grateful. ”I know this is a weird request,” he said, feeling himself get even quieter. “But if you could try to keep your grandma away from them.” he said. He leaned on the counter, leaning close to her to whisper. “I love her like she were my own, but I would like my dad’s shirts to still smell like….dad.” he said, lifting his eyebrows before pulling away. Maybe it was a loss of smell that older women had, but they bathed themselves in perfume like they were walking potpourri. But not Avery, when he had just leaned in, she smelled nice. It was almost like she smelled faintly of magnolia. He narrowed his eyebrows at the thought, like it was almost a memory. “Hm,” he hummed quietly to himself.

Jack adjusted his hat as she was talking about whether or not he was going with anyone, and that he certainly didn’t need to. He laughed, uncomfortably. Though, not for the reason she probably thought. Jack bit at the edge of his lip before scratching his eyebrow. “I don’t think I dislike any girl in town quite enough to unleash the terror that is Christine on them,” he said, taking in a deep breath. “I shouldn’t have said that, please keep that between us. Christine is just trying to deal with the hand she’s got. I shouldn’t have said that.” he said, giving a disappointed look in himself. “I think dating for me is going to be difficult for a while. I’m already the talk of the town… my… sister.. or whatever you want to call her. Any girl that showed any interest in me… I’d hate to do that to her, bring her in on all of it, make her exposed to that sort of scrutiny.” he said, adjusting his hat again. “Anyway, no reason to be gloomy” he said, giving her a big grin “I’ll actually be working, since it’s you know.. my father’s lobster boil. But.. when you’re done eating, if you are a glutton for punishment I sure wouldn’t mind some help. I invited Clarke,” he said, tapping his fingers against the counter.

[Avery Grace Andrews]

Jackson was right, old ladies certainly... liked their perfumes.  But Avery liked something simple and fresh, the same fragrance she'd been wearing forever.  She thought it was nice he was trying to salvage what he could of his dad's things.  No matter what people were saying, Mr. Hudson was a good man.  Everyone made choices that weren't perfect, right?  And no one really knew what relationships were like behind closed doors, right?  Take Jack and Christine, for example.  Everyone thought that was perfect.  "I will certainly keep them as my own project," she assured him, placing them on the counter behind her.  Avery watched him, adjusting his hat, looking like he was thinking about something.  It was a little endearing.  She knew he was right, dating probably wouldn't be easy for him, but it was sad really, him coming out on the other side worse off than Christine somehow.  How was that fair, anyways?  Avery could only imagine what Christine and Dan had been up to.  She didn't want to make assumptions but Avery wondered if there was more to that story that they kept under wraps.

"Aw, don't be so hard on yourself, you deserve to be happy too," Avery added honestly.  He really did, he was twice the person Christine would ever be.  "Besides," she added, "Who cares what all the old bitties gossip about anyways."  She glanced back, seeing that he granny had quietly slipped out,  "Between you and me, I think at least half of it Mrs. Marjorie Davis makes up while she's making sweet tea for her book club," she laughed.  "They've nothing better to than talk about everyone else.  I hear a lot," she admitted, laughing slightly.  Avery placed her hands on the counter, raising her eyebrows.  So he had invited Clarke.  Avery wondered if she was the first hearing about it.  She supposed she probably was, not that she was going to shout it from the rooftops.  "Did it sound like she was interested in coming?  I can certainly help."  She offered hopefully, "With the lobster boil, you know."  Avery wasn't trying to be nosy she just sort of hoped maybe there was more to Clarke than what was going around town.  It could be nice, she thought, to have someone else around.  Someone who had been around.  

[Jack Hudson]

Jackson found himself leaning on the counter yet again. He never got to talk to Avery much, but every time he did he felt like he was talking to an old friend. She felt familiar in a way that he couldn’t explain. He couldn’t help but smile tiredly as she spoke about the old bitties in town. It was a quiet, small town. They had to have some way to make their own entertainment. As long as they didn’t get too out of hand, he never cared what people said about him. It only bothered him when it became people talking about people that he cared about. Did Clarke seem interested in coming to the lobster boil? “I’ve been pretty cold to her,” he admitted quietly. “ She’d have no reason to be interested in coming, but I think she might. She is working on Christine’s cake for a few more hours.” he said,standing up tall. ”I’ll take any help I can get. Hey if you don’t mind… I heard Charlene was going to make some of that peace ice cream that I love.. Maybe you could snag me a cone while I’m working?” he asked, “I’d be in your debt,” he said, before goofily gesturing to the shirts she was going to fix, “More in your debt,”[/]b he conceded.

“Unless you end up going with someone. It seems like the silver hairs in town are eager to set you up with every bachelor in town,” he said, chuckling to himself as he looked up to her. “Oh, I’ve noticed.” he said, rocking on his heels. “It’s the topic of discussion in the bar about how you’ve turned some of them down,” he said with a tad bit of amusement. “ Hey out of curiosity, are you going to Christine and Thayer’s wedding?” he said, knowing it was going to be the event in town.

[Avery Grace Andrews]

Avery nodded, pursing her lips a bit. Maybe it was good, Jackson inviting Clarke. If he invited her maybe the rest of the town would give her more of a chance. She deserved a fair chance at making it in their little town. There was plenty of kindness to go around. Avery herself was eager to go over one afternoon and try some of that New York coffee. She’d heard Clarke brought it in special from the city, the real stuff. It was going to take Jackson accepting her first though, so it was a step in the right direction. “I hope she does,” she mused truthfully. There was something about Clarke coming from the city that was so alluring to Avery, like she thought she could absorb some of that culture just being around her. Jackson mentioned Charlene’s ice cream and Avery smiled widely; she herself would be damned if she didn’t get any, “That I can most certainly do for you. If anyone deserves that after all this planning, it’d be you,” she laughed.



Avery blushed when he stated she was a topic of conversation in the bars and that the older men were trying to set her up, “Oh I don’t doubt that…” How embarrassing. “No I'm not- I’ll just be there by myself. Well, I’m not going with anyone.” So, so smooth. She did hesitate when he asked if she was going to the wedding though, everyone in town was invited, including Avery and her family. To be honest Avery was kind of scared of Christine, and she didn’t feel they were close at all. Going to Christine’s wedding wasn’t really necessary. But then you had to consider what people would say if you didn’t go, which was almost kind of worse. They’d wonder if she had something against Christine. Did she? Maybe Avery was a little upset about how she treated Jackson, upset for him anyways. “Thinking about it. Christine and I aren’t very close, but…” she paused trying to find the most neutral way to put things, “I wouldn’t want to create anymore rumors by not going.”
She would need a very good reason not to.  Like dying.