Two
Vivienne
“What’s Buddy’s?” Davis asks.
“The finest bar in Bellemere.”
“I’m going to go out on a limb and say it’s the only bar in Bellemere,” Davis says as he opens the door for me, wide-eyed at the sight before him. This place is so far removed from the swanky establishments where he hangs out, it isn’t even comical at this point.
Most of the people here were at Lulu’s funeral, so we only get a few odd stares and glances when we walk in. It’s not every day that men as handsome as Davis in custom Armani suits and women in couture dresses and thousand-dollar shoes walk into this place. I’m not entirely sure that shoes are even a requirement.
We pick a booth situated near the back, far from the rest of the customers but angled in a way that we still have a good view of the bar. People watching can be our evening’s entertainment. Lord knows there’s nothing else to do in this town.
“What are the chances of Buddy stocking my favorite liquor?” Davis may only be an assistant, but I make sure he’s one of the highest paid in New York. He works harder than anyone I know and I don’t want his efforts to go unrewarded. He’s got expensive tastes to go with his hefty paycheck.
“I think our best bet is to stick with beer tonight.”
He gasps and clutches his chest. “Surely you joke?”
“Nope. And I’m not even talking about craft beer, either. Bud Light for us tonight, baby.”
“Have you ever actually drunk that?”
“Too long ago to remember.” But I do remember the last time I drank beer. I remember every single detail of that night. And the fallout afterward. Thankfully before I conjure up too many memories of that night, Davis comes back to our booth with four bottles of beer in hand. I raise my eyebrow in question.
“Those women at the bar were scary. The fewer trips, the better.”
I can’t blame them. Davis is easy on the eyes with his dark hair, his chiseled face, and piercing blue eyes. Too bad those women don’t stand a chance in hell, no matter how beautiful they might be.
I take a long pull of my beer, the taste strange on my tongue, but oddly fitting since I’m back here.
“This is terrible,” Davis complains.
“Drink a few more and it won’t be.”
“Oh good,” he continues when the music starts. “Some hillbilly twang to enhance our experience.”
I just keep drinking, hoping to erase the memories of the day. Hoping to forget why I’m even here.
“What do you think tomorrow’s meeting is about?”
There goes trying to forget. “I’m assuming it’s about Lulu’s will. If she even had one. She never mentioned one before.”
“But why do you need to be there?”
“I don’t know, Davis. I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to think about it. Can we just get drunk on nasty beer and forget about today?”
“Only if you dance with me.”
I grin and nod my head. Davis always wants to dance with me when we drink.
“When a slow song comes on.”
We each finish our second beer in silence, and I try to clear my mind. It helps being out of the city. I should be worried about work and the meetings I pawned off on Charles, but I don’t have the energy for it right now.
The music changes and we slip out of the booth. Davis chuckles when he gets a good look at the floor. “I’ve never danced on a floor scattered with peanut shells.”
“You’ll be fine. You can scratch it off your bucket list.”
The second he gets his hands on me, I collapse against him, the weight of the day catching up to me. I sigh and sink in deeper. We don’t so much dance as just sway. It feels nice to be held. To be supported. I want to close my eyes right here and rest, but when I hear several rowdy calls of, “Bishop” from around the bar, my eyes widen and move to the door, praying the greeting is for Sam and not Oliver.
Please be Sam, I chant over and over to myself, but luck isn’t with me tonight.
For the second time today, my eyes land on Oliver Bishop.
The one person in this town I wanted to avoid.
I want to look away, turn back to Davis, but I can’t. I’m drawn to him, just like I always was.
Gone are the traces of the boy from my youth. Same brown hair and brown eyes, but this Oliver Bishop is hardened. He’s always been big, but now he’s a mountain of a man. There’s no warmth to him. Even though people are calling out to him, he doesn’t spare anyone a glance. He wants to be left alone; unnoticed. His size alone makes that impossible, though. I don’t know what happened to him, but I can only assume his time in the military was not good.
He walks past us, throwing a cold glare in our direction before heading to the bar.
“I’m ready to go,” I whisper to Davis, finding it difficult to speak.
“But we just got here.”
“The beer isn’t cutting it,” I lie. “Besides, Lulu always kept a decanter of whisky for those nights she had trouble sleeping.”
“Why didn’t you say that before I was forced to drink that piss in a bottle?”
I sneak a glance toward the bar. He’s leaning in on one arm, chatting with a cop. I’m pretty sure it’s against the rules to sit in a bar and drink in uniform, but what do I know.
“I just remembered. Let’s get out of here.”
Davis practically drags me to the door. The promise of good whisky and the lack of country music must be really appealing right now. Unable to help myself, I look to the bar once more on my way out. Oliver’s still talking, but he’s got his eyes trained on me.
Staring me down as I walk hand in hand out of Buddy’s with Davis.
_____
“Are we going to talk about this?” I call after Ollie, my legs not able to keep up with his long strides across the parking lot of the attorney’s office.
“Nothin’ to talk about, Princess.”
“The hell there isn’t!”
“You know where to find me if you need help.” He gets in that beat-up truck that I recognize from my high school days and speeds off. He’s probably headed back to Bishop Farms, his life just the same as when he strolled into Langston Soileau’s law office an hour ago.
My world just got turned upside down. Flipped on its axis, all because of the letter I’m clutching in my hand. My last letter from Lulu. I have an entire box of them from her over the years, but none as powerful as this last one. I don’t want to do as it says. I want to fly home and erase the past twenty-four hours. But, I’d never do that to Lulu’s memory. And she knew that.
I shake my head and walk to the rental car, desperate for coffee and Davis. He stayed behind this morning, nursing a hangover. He wanted to come with me, but I assured him it wasn’t necessary.
I was wrong.
My head is swimming as I make the short drive back to Lulu’s. How am I going to manage this? My life is in New York. My home, my business, Davis. Lulu knew that. She knew how hard I worked to build my company. And most of all, she knew I never wanted anything to do with Oliver Bishop ever again. He broke me once. I might not survive him a second time.
Now she’s asking me to risk it all. I’ve got to trust that she knows what she’s doing, even though I don’t understand it in the slightest.
Davis comes out the front door, his steps measured, I’m sure in thanks to his headache. “Did Lulu not drink coffee?”
I shake my head. “Tea. Come on.”
He checks his watch. “We don’t have much time. I managed to get us a flight home for this afternoon.”
I look down at the letter in my hand. “I can’t go with you. Not yet.”
“Why?” he asks, the word drawn out.
“I’ll fill you in over coffee.” There may not be much in Bellemere, but if you want a good meal and a cup of coffee, apparently Annie’s Cafe is the place to go. Practically the whole town stops in here at one point during the day for food. I’ve never been, but Lulu and my parents rave about it.
I’m at Annie’s in five minutes. I can get anywhere in this town in five minutes. The parking lot is full except for one spot, right next to that old red truck.
“Damnit,” I mutter as I pull in next to him. Of course he’d be here. Annie’s his sister. I say a prayer to the farming gods that there are veggies to tend to or animals to herd and that he’s just popping in for a cup of coffee to go. Obviously, though, the farming gods aren’t on my side today. Ollie’s on a stool at the counter, sipping coffee like he’s got all the time in the world. Unable to help myself, my eyes do a quick scan down the length of his body and I notice Lulu’s letter to him sticking out of his back pocket. He gave no indication of what it said; just read it, folded it, and put it back in the envelope. The words didn’t come as a complete shock to him. If they did, Ollie’s gotten damn good at masking his emotions. And it pisses me off. Ignites something inside of me. How can he sit there so calm, chit-chatting with his sister, sipping coffee, like nothing’s changed?
Everything’s changed.
Like a woman possessed, I march up to the counter and grab him by the shoulder, spinning him around on the stool.
“What the fuck?”
“What’s in your letter, Ollie?”
His eyes grow stone cold when the shock wears off and he realizes it’s me.
“It’s Bishop now.”
“I’m not calling you that. You’re Ollie.”
He goes to turn back around and I put my hand on his shoulder once more to stop him. He grabs my wrist and I gasp, both in surprise by the fact that he did it with so much force and that this is the first time I’ve felt his touch in nearly sixteen years.
“Watch it, Princess,” he warns.
My hand falls to my side the second he lets go. I bite my lip and inhale deeply, desperate for the feelings to slip away. He turns back around and stares at the counter, no emotion showing. It’s only then that I notice the scar running through his eyebrow and down his temple, disappearing into his hairline. It’s in the same spot as mine, but much more pronounced. I shouldn’t care, but I want to ask about it.
“Can you please show me the letter?” I ask instead, my voice calmer this time.
He never looks my way. “I’m sure it’s the same as yours.”
Annie puts a plate of food down in front of him and his face changes. The coldness seeps out and he gives his sister his version of a grin.
There’s Ollie, I think.
“Gotta go, sis. I’ll bring this by later.” He takes the whole plate and walks out of the diner.
She looks at me, sizing me up. “Welcome home, Vivi.”
“Thanks.” It’s not a very warm greeting from the girl I spent my entire youth with, but I deserve it. She tried to contact me when I moved, but I cut all ties when I moved. Especially ties that led back to Oliver.
It’s only when I back away from the counter that I notice the whole place is staring at me. No doubt that entire scene will be the topic of everyone’s dinner conversation tonight.
Heat floods my face as I turn back to Annie. “Two coffees, please.”
“Comin’ right up.”
Davis is practically jumping out of the booth when I join him, his eyes glowing. I’ve never let my emotions get the best of me like that. Being back in Bellemere isn’t good for me. I’m not this person anymore.
“Spill it, sweets.”
I take a liberal sip of my coffee as soon as Annie sets it down, not caring that it’s burning my mouth. Davis doesn’t touch his. It’s like my little display wiped away all traces of his hangover. Wordlessly, I slide the envelope to his side of the booth, but he makes no move to take it.
“Read it,” I prompt.
“Unless it explains what that drama at the counter was about, I’m not interested.”
I lean in closer and his eyes sparkle. Davis loves good gossip. He’s going to be disappointed. “I don’t want to get into it here.” I don’t want to get into it. Ever.
“Honey, you just caused a scene in front of everyone in here. Based on what I’ve learned about this town that’s smaller than my apartment building, they already know the story. You telling me isn’t going to hurt anything or reveal any big secrets.”
He’s right. I know every person in here. I’m still not ready to talk about it. Maybe after some of Lulu’s whisky.
“I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that he’s one of the reasons you left this place. Am I right?”
He’s not one of the reasons. He’s the only reason. But I can’t say those words right now. The lump in my throat is too big to say anything. I simply nod and push the envelope closer to Davis. Finally, he takes the letter out and reads it. Based on his facial expressions, I know exactly which parts he’s reading. Even though I only read it twice in the lawyer’s office, I have every word memorized. Her letter is etched in my mind.
He reads it a few times, no doubt as shocked as I was when I read it. Finally, he looks up and the curiosity from what happened earlier with Oliver has been replaced with worry.
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to stay.”
“But what about work? Our clients?”
“Lucky for me, I have an amazing assistant that can work out all those details.”
His jaw drops. “This isn’t that simple, Viv.”
“Make it that simple. We can set up a satellite office here. The internet is a pretty wonderful thing.”
He huffs, looking at his watch. “I have to go.”
“Take the car. I can walk home.”
“In those shoes?” he asks, his eyes peeking down at my Manolo Blahnik stilettos. He’s worried I’ll ruin them. I have bigger worries at the moment.
“You’ll bring more when you come back.”
“Call me crazy, but I don’t think you’ll have a need for them while you’re here.”
“You always take care of me. You’ll bring me exactly what I need.”
He looks around. “This is completely out of my realm of expertise.”
I smile. “You’ll figure it out. Be safe and call me when you land.”
“Of course. Love you.”
“Love you more,” I call after him.
Annie shows up with the coffee pot the second he leaves. “Staying?”
“Yeah.”
Hot coffee in hand, I reach for the letter with the other one. According to the date at the top, she wrote it about eight months ago. I wonder if she knew her time was coming to an end. Before I start reading it again, I can’t help but chuckle at the irony of the situation. The one person I would go to for advice about this is Lulu, and she’s the one that put me in this position. I’ve got to trust that she knew what she was doing.
My dearest Vivi,
It saddens me to know that if you’re reading this, I’m gone, but it brings me a great sense of peace to know it also means you’re home. Not New York, but home. In Bellemere. Where you were always meant to be.
We just spoke on the phone a few minutes ago. You were getting ready for a meeting with a potential client. You’ve really made something of yourself, and I couldn’t be prouder of the person you’ve become. But, she isn’t you. She isn’t the Vivienne Westbrook who would come visit every afternoon and drink sweet tea with me on the porch. She isn’t the Vivienne Westbrook that wanted to bring home every stray animal she would find wandering around the woods. She isn’t the Vivienne Westbrook that fell in love one summer and wanted nothing more than to be a wife and a momma.
I love both versions of you, darling, don’t ever think that I don’t, but I want you to be happy. Deep down, to the soul, happy.
Stay here, Vivi, and live in the house. Restore her for me. Get her back to her original beauty. I let things go in recent years. I couldn’t keep up with her demands. Your Oliver would come around in the evenings, have a drink with me, and fix things here and there, but he has his own set of troubles. He knows what I want for my house, and you have very fond memories of what it looked like when you were just a girl. I want nothing more than for you to stay a while and make her beautiful again. I don’t want strangers in here doing the work. I want you. I’ve left you money to help. Enough so that you don’t have to worry about New York for a while. You can stay here and do this last favor for me. I don’t ask for much from you, never have, but I am asking you to honor my wishes. If you need help with anything, go to Oliver.
When you are finished, the house is yours. If you’re still set on going back to your life in the city, Oliver is the only one with the option to purchase her from you. I can’t imagine strangers living there, and your parents have their own lives, their own house. I won’t burden them with a second home to tend to. This house has been in our family for generations. If you won’t live here, then Ollie can. He’s as close to family as they come. And if he’s not in a position to purchase her, keep her, Viv. Maybe someday you’ll use her, even if you can’t now.
I know you are probably reeling right now, shocked, both over my death and this letter, but things will work out. You’ll be fine.
Welcome home, Vivi.
All my love,
Lulu