Five
Vivienne
Sticking with the routine I established after the first morning I arrived, I do Pilates and then head to Annie’s for coffee and breakfast. I didn’t bother with provisions for either of those things when I went to the grocery store. Even though Annie’s still cold to me and everyone in there looks at me like I’m crazy, there’s something I enjoy about walking there every morning. Maybe it’s because Lulu came here for breakfast, too, using her old pink bike to get her here in the mornings. Besides, people not being very welcoming to me isn’t a new thing. I didn’t become a success in the cut-throat world of marketing by playing nice and making friends. I’m assuming the majority of the stares from the good citizens of Bellemere come from the fact that I’m usually dressed for a boardroom and not for a café in a lazy southern town, but that’s just my guess.
“Sugar,” I hear when I step across the threshold. “What are you doing here?”
My mom looks genuinely surprised to see me. “I came for breakfast.”
“I thought you went back to work.”
I shake my head as I slide into the booth across from her. “I’m staying.”
“Staying?”
“The house,” I say slowly. “I haven’t even started working on it. In fact, I haven’t even started planning what I would like to do over there. I’ll be here for a while.”
When some of the shock from Lulu’s letter wore off, I called my parents to see if my grandmother had discussed her final wishes with them. In typical Lulu fashion, she hadn’t. My grandmother made a habit of doing what she wanted when she wanted.
“You’re really doing it?”
“It’s what she wanted.”
“But what about what you want?”
“This isn’t about me.” I’ve been called selfish most of my adult life, but if there’s one person that I’ll always put before me, it’s Lulu. Even if it means turning my life upside down.
She sits in silence for a minute, her face blank. I can’t get a read on her. Finally, she says what I can only guess this entire thing is about.
“Are you really going to get him to help you?” Out of all the contents in the letter, that’s the part that bothered her the most when I read it aloud to her and Dad.
“If I need Ollie’s help, I’ll ask.”
“Do you think that’s wise?”
“Mom, I’m thirty-four years old. I’ve been on my own for quite a while. I can handle it.”
She leans in close, practically hissing. “Don’t you remember what he did?”
“I remember. I’m also over it.” I stand, shaky on my six-inch heels. It takes all my willpower to keep my hand at my side when all I want to do is run it along my scar. “I’m not hungry anymore.” This entire conversation has left a bad taste in my mouth.
“Sit, Sugar. I’m sorry,” she says as she grabs my wrist to keep me from leaving.
Reluctantly, I do as she asks.
“I just don’t know if it’s a good idea for you to be around him so much,” she continues, looking around the café and dropping her voice. “You left because of him.”
“Mom—” I start, but she cuts me off.
“Left and never came back.”
“Mom, I doubt I’ll even need him. I have Davis to help me with whatever I need.”
“And where is he?”
“Vivienne, I heard you were back,” I hear before I can answer my mom. Standing next to our booth is Ronnie Aucoin. I’d recognize him anywhere. He hasn’t changed a bit since high school.
“Ronnie,” I greet him, noticing the apron tied around his waist. “I didn’t know you worked here.”
“I help Annie out sometimes. Can I get you ladies some coffee?”
“That would be great,” my mom says. “Thank you.”
He doesn’t move. Much like in high school, he lingers, staring. “You look just like I remember,” he tells me.
Hardly. When I left Bellemere, I was intent on changing myself completely, both inside and out. My once dull brown hair was now expertly highlighted several shades of blonde by the best hair stylist in Manhattan, I had a personal trainer that kept me in top physical condition, and my clothes are nothing like the baggy shorts and t-shirts I used to run around wearing. Rather than point out the obvious, though, I simply smile and ask him for our coffee once more.
He stares at me for a few more seconds and then goes to the counter to fill our order.
“Do you have any ideas about the house yet?” Mom asks.
“I’ve been waiting for inspiration to strike. Unfortunately, I don’t really have an eye for design. Don’t get me wrong, I know what I like, but I’ve never been involved in the process. I have people for that.”
She rolls her eyes but couples it with a smile. “You have people for everything.”
“Perks of having money.”
“Why don’t I drop by later tonight and bring some old pictures. Lulu gave me a huge box of them several years ago. We can look through them together. There’s bound to be some of the house that’ll help.”
This feels so strange - sitting here with Mom and having an actual conversation. Things have always been a little tense between us, even after all this time. Dad and Lulu never let my leaving affect them, but Mom put up a wall and hasn’t taken it down. She wasn’t a fan of my relationship with Ollie but didn’t want me to leave home. How she thought I could remain here, surrounded by all the memories, is beyond me.
“I’d like that. The pictures and the company.”
She looks at her watch and slides out from the booth. “I have to go, Sugar. Meeting in Rosemond. I’ll call you later.”
Mom leaves me alone with my thoughts and my coffee and I do what I do every morning when I come to Annie’s. Sit alone and watch everyone around me talk and laugh. I would say I miss doing that, but it’s not something I did in New York. Yes, there were business meetings, conference calls, and client dinners, but what’s happening inside Annie’s isn’t something that I ever did. These people are friends. They have a genuine interest in each other’s lives. I have acquaintances. Business partners. Employees. There was no time to make friends while trying to build my company.
While trying to forget the reason I left Bellemere in the first place.
Now that I’m back, though, the memories are everywhere I turn. Coming back might be the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.
Before I drop my head to the table and bang it against the surface repeatedly, I hear my phone chime with a text.
Davis: We need to negotiate a raise as soon as I return to BFE.
Rather than text to see what he’s dealing with, I call him. An overly-dramatic Davis answers before I even hear it ring on my end. “Girl, people are not happy with you. I’m putting out fires left and right over here.”
“Handle it,” I snap. There are times when I must draw the line with Davis. This is one of those times.
“They are not interested in hearing from me or being pawned off on Charles. No one is buying the story. They all think you’re in rehab. We need proof of life.”
I’m sure he’s not being dramatic. It’s more feasible that I’d be in rehab than in South Louisiana renovating my recently deceased grandmother’s farmhouse.
“Email me a list of clients who are giving you trouble. I will personally call them and assure them all business needs can be met while I’m down here.”
“Have you even checked your email?”
“No.” For the first time since I started Westbrook Marketing, I haven’t lived and breathed the business. I’m in limbo here, not really sure what to do with myself.
“I have. It’s not pretty.”
“Send me the list, Davis, and I’ll see to it. And get your ass back down here. I can’t conduct all my business from my cell. I need an office.”
“I’m at least another week out. Relocating you will take some time.”
“What am I supposed to do? I can’t set up shop here.” I lower my voice when I realize everyone in here’s staring. “There’s nowhere for me to even buy a damn computer, much less outfit an entire office. Even if there was, I can’t exactly ride Lulu’s bike around town to pick up what I need.”
“Sounds like you need to call an Uber.”
“You think they have Uber here?”
His voice lowers and his tone changes. My best friend is speaking to me now, not my assistant. “If I recall, that fine specimen of a man is supposed to help you with anything you need.”
“For the house. This is personal.”
“Will your office be in the house?”
“Yes.”
“There you go. Better find him and ask him for a ride,” he giggles. “See you in a week.”