CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Olivia
May 26
“I KNOW, RIGHT?” ALLIE SHAKES HER head at me in astonishment, her red curls tumbling around her face. “The brochures went like that.”
She snaps her fingers, pleased with the success of our pre-grand-opening advertising campaign. We’ve contacted all the local media, sent out press kits, printed coupons, and set up a website. The head chef, Jan, is working overtime organizing the kitchen, Marianne is retraining the staff, and Allie and I are finishing the details of the interior design. We’re almost ready.
“When’s Kelsey getting back?” Allie asks.
“Thursday.” I check my calendar, remembering that Dean is going to pick Kelsey up from the airport when she gets back from her combination vacation and meteorology conference in Japan. I write a note to myself to make a special dinner that night so Kelsey can join us her first night home.
After conferring with Allie about our schedule, I take my laptop and go through the kitchen, where manager Brent is talking to the kitchen staff.
A ripple of excitement fills me whenever I walk through the café and hear the noise, the chatter, the sound of things happening.
I pause where Crystal is painting a border on the walls close to the ceiling. She’s been working on and off for the past few weeks, and though I haven’t seen much of her since she moved out of the apartment, I’m constantly aware of her presence.
“It looks great,” I tell her, which is the truth. The diamond-shaped border matches the playing-card motif throughout the lower floor of the café.
I’ve discovered that my mother is more talented than I knew, which both surprises me and makes me a little sad. I can’t help wondering what she could have become, if her life had been different.
“Is your car fixed yet?” I ask.
“Almost.” She wipes a drop of paint from the wall. “They had to order some part. I guess they’re waiting for it to come in. Are you leaving for the day?”
“I’m going to distribute some flyers.”
“I’ll come with you. Can you wait ten minutes?”
“Okay. I’ll be on the porch.”
I get a stack of flyers and go outside just as Dean crosses the street from his parked car. Dressed in old jeans, a sweatshirt, and work boots, he looks both comfortable and worker-guy sexy. He’s looking in the opposite direction, his stride long and confident as he approaches the café.
My heart does its usual my husband is here! twirl, but beyond that I’m struck by the looseness of Dean’s posture, the relaxed set of his shoulders. He looks at ease, almost untroubled.
He turns his head, his gaze meeting mine. He gives me that gorgeous, hint-of-wicked grin that makes my breath catch and my body hum.
“Hi.” He climbs the steps to me and brushes a kiss across my mouth. “You busy for lunch?”
“Only if you’re offering to take me out.” I eye the streaks of dirt covering his sweatshirt. “Nowhere fancy, I assume.”
“I was working up at the Butterfly House and got hungry.”
“So you thought of me?”
He leans closer to me and murmurs, “I always think of you when I get hungry.”
I smile and rub my nose against his. “How’s the work going?”
“Got a whole room full of furniture to go through,” Dean says. “I found a mantel clock that looks like it might be made of rosewood. I told Florence I’d get in touch with some museum curators and send them pictures. See if they can give us an idea of provenance.”
My heart fills at the undercurrent of enthusiasm in his voice, the evidence that he hasn’t let the loss of his job deter him from his love of all things historical.
It’s been over two weeks since he sent in his resignation letter, and though he’s still working on the Words and Images conference from home, he only goes to campus to meet with students and help facilitate the transition.
“I have my last shift at the museum this afternoon,” I say. “Do you want me to tell Florence anything about the Butterfly House, if I see her?”
“For some reason, she told me to be sure and check the closets.” Dean scratches his head and shrugs. “You can tell her I did that this morning, but didn’t find anything very interesting.”
“Not like she did,” I mutter.
“Huh?”
“I’ll tell her,” I assure him solemnly.
The front door squeaks open, and Crystal steps onto the porch. An instant freeze coats the air when she and Dean see each other. I put my hand gently on Dean’s arm.
“Why don’t I just meet you later for dinner at home?” I ask. “We need to distribute some flyers, then I have my museum shift.”
He nods, his gaze still on Crystal as he steps back to let us both pass.
“Allie said he quit his job,” she remarks as we walk down the street.
“Long story,” I reply, keeping my voice casual even though my neck tenses with irritation.
“Classic story,” she says. “But it sounds like he did the right thing. No sense letting something like that go to court, when he’d be screwed no matter what happened.”
Though I don’t like Crystal knowing anything about this, even I can admit that she’s right. We distribute flyers to a few downtown stores and coffeehouses, then stop by the Chamber of Commerce to arrange for an announcement on their website.
We’re heading toward a toy store when I glance across the street and see Maggie Hamilton walking on the opposite sidewalk. My chest fills with anger. I quicken my pace and duck into an alley so she won’t see me, so I won’t have to look at her…
“Mrs. West!”
I stop and turn, my hands tightening on the stack of flyers I’m holding. Crystal is a few feet away, watching Maggie as she hurries into the alley after us.
“What do you want?” I ask.
Maggie glances from me to Crystal, her mouth compressing. “How did you get that video? How did he?”
“What video?”
“You know exactly what video.” She steps forward. Her eyes flash with a hint of panic that I recognize all too well. “I got the email this morning. That coward sent it anonymously, but I know it was from your husband. I swear to God, if he threatens me with that video, my father will kill him.”
Unease roils inside me. “Dean won’t threaten you with anything, Maggie. He did exactly what you wanted, right? He’ll be done with King’s after the conference.”
“He’d better be. We know about you and him, Mrs. West. I doubt you were the first student he seduced.”
I can only shake my head. Though I still hate the implication that my relationship with Dean is somehow immoral, I know the truth of my husband and our marriage. I know the truth of us.
“So someone sent you an incriminating video of you and Jeffrey Butler, is that it?” I ask Maggie. “My guess is that it was his ex-wife.”
Maggie pales. Unexpected pity twists in my gut. With the lines of stress around her eyes and mouth, the sharp jut of her cheekbones, she no longer looks young—instead, she looks hollowed-out, like an empty shell.
“I can’t…” She steps back, her panic deepening. “Jeffrey told me he destroyed all the videos. I know Ben Stafford talked to him, but Jeffrey didn’t tell him anything. He never would.”
“I don’t think it was him,” I tell her. “His ex-wife said you sent her the videos after Jeffrey refused to divorce her and marry you.”
Maggie just stares at me.
“Well, that was stupid,” Crystal remarks.
My mother’s voice almost startles me, as if I’d forgotten she’s standing right there. Crystal crosses her arms, her blue gaze narrowing on Maggie.
“Sex videos, right?” she snaps. “You sent them to the guy’s ex-wife? What kind of idiot are you?”
Maggie swings her gaze from Crystal to me and back again. “I—”
“Yeah, I know,” Crystal continues. “You’re a young, stupid idiot who really believed that some guy would actually divorce his wife and marry you. Who was he, Liv?”
“Um… the professor who preceded Dean at King’s.” I’m about as stunned by Crystal’s sudden wrath as Maggie is. “He… he retired.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” Crystal steps forward, getting into Maggie’s space and forcing the girl to retreat against the building. “You really thought an old married professor would screw up his life for you? You never figured out that you were just a piece of ass to him?”
“I loved him!” Maggie cries, tears filling her eyes.
“Sure you did,” Crystal retorts. “And he said he was in love with you, right? Did he tell you that while you were stripping for him or while he was filming himself fucking you?”
Maggie starts to cry in earnest, her shoulders shaking. I put my hand on Crystal’s arm, feeling the anger tightening her muscles.
“Face it, Maggie,” she says, her voice cold. “The bastard used you, and you made things worse by trying to get revenge when you found out he wasn’t the hero you wanted.”
“You don’t know anything about it!” Maggie wipes her runny nose, her eyes glinting with fury.
“I do know something about manipulative bastards who want to use you,” Crystal replies. “Men who sweet-talk you while secretly thinking you’re a piece of trash. But I learned early on how to turn the tables, to get what I wanted from them. If this guy seduced you into—”
“He didn’t!” Maggie snaps. “I was the one who started it. I knew I wasn’t good enough to be in the grad program. I couldn’t understand all the stupid theories and methodologies. But I had to get my masters, and I’m… well, men have always liked me, so I approached Jeffrey and… it started.”
She swipes at a tear. “But then I started falling in love with him. He made me feel special. So when he tried to break it off and told me he couldn’t be my advisor anymore… I just snapped. If I was going down, then I was taking him with me.”
“So you broke up his marriage, and for what?” Crystal asks. “Nothing, right? And when Dean West wouldn’t play the same game, you found another way to threaten him. What the fuck is the matter with you?”
My heart is hammering. Though I find it hard to believe that my mother would ever defend my husband, the stark truth of her statement echoes in the narrow alley like the ringing of a bell.
“If I were you, I’d be less worried about your father finding out about this mess than the entire freaking community,” Crystal continues. “One click of a mouse, and that video will end up on countless porn sites. Then what’ll happen to you?”
Maggie stares at her. Crystal’s arms are crossed, her eyes blue fire. Her skin is flushed with anger, her jaw tight, her hair escaping the clip holding it away from her face.
For the first time in my life I experience an actual sense of sympathy toward my mother. Because I have the sudden, wrenching suspicion that she knows exactly how Maggie Hamilton feels.
“I’m not worried about what will happen to me.” Maggie straightens, scrubbing at her eyes as a resolve seems to strengthen her spine. “My father would never believe I did anything wrong.”
“What about everyone else?” I ask. “What about you?”
She blinks, as if no one has ever asked her that question. “What about me?”
“You haven’t wanted to do anything your father has demanded of you,” I remind her. “You’ve gone along with it because you need his money, because you don’t know what else to do. But isn’t it about time you figured it out?”
“I don’t need your advice,” Maggie retorts. “I’ve never had a choice about what to do.”
“Of course you have a choice,” I say. “No one knows better than I do that you have a choice.”
I feel Crystal’s sudden tension. I don’t look at her.
“You can stay,” I tell Maggie, “and be controlled by your father. Or you can leave and start your own life. A new life.”
Just like I did.
“Yeah, right.” Maggie’s expression hardens, as if my words are ricocheting off her. “Is that what your husband is trying to do with his stupid resignation? You think that will get him off the hook?”
She backs toward the street, her eyes flashing from Crystal to me.
“My father will destroy you, Mrs. West, if you or your husband threaten me again,” she snaps. “And you’d damn well better hope he doesn’t find out about this.”
She turns and stalks away. A hush falls in the air.
“You don’t reason with a girl like that,” Crystal says. “She’ll make the same mistakes until she realizes she’s fucking up her own life.”
My stomach twists. “Why did you tell her all that?”
“Because I know what it’s like to be used, and I learned my lesson.” Crystal turns to face me, still rigid with anger. “But you wouldn’t know about that, would you?”
I stare at her, my heart racing.
“Oh, I’ve learned lessons, Crystal. Hard ones.”
“Sure. How not to be like your mother.”
The years suddenly flash in my mind like a filmstrip. Liv the good girl, the straight-A student, the mouse who barely dated, who kept her head down and did what she was told, who didn’t cause trouble, who was still a virgin at twenty-four. The girl who struggled for so long just to feel normal.
No. Nothing like Crystal Winter at all.
“I get it.” I have to swallow hard past the constriction in my throat. “I’ve been humiliated too. I made bad choices that backlashed in ways that almost ruined me. I had to drop out of Fieldbrook because of what happened to me. I broke right in half. And it took me a while, but I finally learned there’s no limit to the number of times you can start again.”
“Oh, please.” Crystal turns away from me and starts walking.
“There’s not even a limit for you, Crystal,” I call after her, but she doesn’t break her stride, and I don’t even know if she heard me.