Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

V ivian woke up with the birds, and truthfully, she couldn't remember the last time she'd rolled out of bed before nine a.m. It felt good. Better than good. It felt as if she was adulting or something. Crazy considering she was in her early thirties, but she rolled with it. She might or might not have sung a silly song in the shower. By 6:30, she was dressed and had already eaten when her brother came downstairs with Nora.

Benton looked confused when he spotted her in the kitchen, not that she blamed him. The two of them were usually out the door while she was still asleep, deep in la-la land.

"You're up."

"I've got things to do," she said with a shrug.

Benton swiped at the sleep still in his eyes as he reached for the coffee pot. "You made a pot." He glanced her way.

"I did."

"It's like a whole new Vivian."

"Pretty much." She chuckled.

"Auntie Viv, you look pretty." Nora sat down at the table, her hair tangled from sleep, her pink-and-purple nightgown a wrinkled mess.

Vivian was used to compliments on her looks, but this one, coming from her young niece, was the best she'd received in years. "Thank you."

"I like your dress, even though it's blue."

"You don't like blue?"

"Yep. I do. But not as much as pink or purple or silver or gold or?—"

"We get the picture, squirt." Benton laughed and set down a bowl, a carton of milk, and a box of cereal so Nora could get busy with eating while he moved toward the counter and sipped his coffee.

"You're not dressed for the ranch," he said slowly.

"No," she admitted. "I'm not."

He snuck a look toward his daughter, but she was busy talking to the animal-shaped marshmallows in her cereal.

"You're going somewhere."

She nodded.

His disappointment was obvious, and for whatever reason, that made her heart happy. "Not for long," she replied.

Her brother let that settle.

"I've got some things to take care of, but I plan on being back next weekend for the annual barn dance." Her forehead screwed up. "That's still a thing, right?" It was a tradition passed down for generations, a celebration to bring together the Bridgestones and all the souls who worked the ranch alongside them.

He nodded. "First Saturday of every November."

She nodded, maybe to convince herself that what she was planning was a good idea. "I'll be back by then."

"Where you headed?"

She thought of Jack, and along with that thought came a wave of guilt.

"Alaska. Work stuff."

"You flying out of Bozeman?"

She nodded.

"If the timing works out, I can take you to the airport after I drop off Nora at school."

"Won't that take a good chunk out of your day?"

"Some." He winked. "I don't mind."

"I appreciate it." She paused for a moment and considered her next ask.

"What?"

"I can't take Lily with me, so I'm hoping you won't mind keeping an eye on her."

"That dog only likes a handful of humans on this planet, and I'm not one of them. You know that, right?"

"It's not that she doesn't like you. She finds it hard to trust. She's been through a lot."

Benton finished his coffee and rinsed his mug in the sink. "I'll make sure she gets outside so we don't have any messes in the house, and if I can't make it happen, someone will. Ryland is hit or miss, but he can help out, and so can Nora."

Her youngest brother had been spending a lot of time up at the Founder's Cabin with their father. He'd graduated high school, but was taking a gap year before college. She wasn't sure if he had a job, and between his buddies and girls, he was a hard kid to tie down. In fact, in well over a month, Vivian could count on one hand the times she'd seen or had a conversation with him. Not entirely his fault, but still, the youngest Bridgestone seemed to be away from the ranch more than on it these days.

"Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me," Benton said with a wry grin. "It's what family does."

"One more question." Vivian eyed her brother, toying with an idea that had come to her the day before.

"Shoot."

"If Dallas has moved to his own place, who's staying in the foreman's cabin?"

"No one."

"I see lights on occasionally."

"That's automatic, a security thing." Benton raised a questioning eyebrow. "Why?"

"I was thinking that maybe I could stay there when I come back." She blushed. "Feels weird for a woman my age to stay in my old room in my brother's house."

Benton slowly nodded. "Of course." He watched her for a few moments. "You're coming back for good?"

"Oh, I don't…" She shrugged. "I don't know how long. I just know that being here feels right."

His eyes softened. "I'm glad. It will be good for Nora to have a woman around here. She misses Scarlett."

"Okay," she said with a smile. "I'm ready when you are."

Several hours later, she looked out from her window seat as she flew into Anchorage. The flight had been uneventful, and thankfully, she'd had the row to herself, so there was no need for small talk. Which was fine since her mind was still preoccupied with the life changes she was contemplating.

It didn't take long to deplane, and less than thirty minutes later, she walked out of the airport and into a cold and rainy Alaskan evening. Pulling her jacket up to her chin with a shiver, Vivian spied her Uber and settled in for the short ride to her condo. A modern showpiece, it was an impressive building made of stone, metal, and glass. With an exclusive address and a price tag in the seven-figure range, it had been a source of pride when she'd bought it three years earlier. Vivian had been the first tenant to move into the new building, and as of today, she was still not on a first-name basis with anyone other than the doorman, Ringo. He smiled as she sailed past.

"Afternoon, Miss Bridgestone. Lovely to see you." He winked. "It's been a while."

"I'm just home for a few days."

"Well, make sure you stop by for tea before you disappear again."

"Will do," she said over her shoulder.

Her home was an open-concept, two-thousand-square-foot apartment on the top floor of the building with a view of the inlet that would take anyone's breath away. She stepped inside, dropped her purse and small bag on the side table, and took a moment to study her home.

The kitchen was a masterpiece filled with high-end appliances that were rarely used—why bother cooking when Uber Eats was so handy? She spied a bowl of fresh fruit on the large white granite island. Jack, no doubt. The living area boasted tasteful furniture in light gray, cream, and black, expertly arranged by a highly sought-after feng sui expert. The artwork on the wall cost a small fortune, the muted colors and themes meant to be easy on the eyes, not invoke conversation. There were no colorful area rugs made by talented local indigenous folk. There wasn't a stuffed dead animal in sight or horns on the walls. No cowhide or leather goods or wood beams.

This place was the complete opposite of the Triple B ranch, both in structure and style. It represented a sense of accomplishment, bought with her own cash made from the column and podcast. Not one drop of Bridgestone money had been spent here. In fact, she hadn't touched the trust fund set up by her mother for quite some time.

This was all Vivian. All this hard surface and bleached-out color. It wasn't a home, really. It was a showpiece. She wasn't sure what that said about her, but she didn't think it was all that good.

Her cell pinged just then, and she pulled it from her coat pocket.

Benton: You get in all right?

She smiled at that, her heart expanding a little, and quickly typed a reply to let him know she was home and all was good. She looked at her reply and added, ‘love, Viv' and before she could delete it, pressed Send .

Love, Viv? Shit, she was becoming an animal she didn't recognize. A sentimental fool who typed the word love in a valediction. Was it so wrong?

Whatever. She was in a strange mood, and no good could come from overanalyzing things.

She walked into her bedroom, tore off her clothes, and headed straight into the shower. A half-hour later, she was bundled up in a thick, fluffy housecoat, sipping a hot chocolate as she gazed out at the darkened sky and the lights from the city below. She'd ordered a souvlaki bowl from a local Greek restaurant, so when the doorbell chimed, she figured it was five minutes early.

What she didn't figure on was the tall, slight man with a head full of snow-white curly hair and a handlebar mustache to match. Droplets of rain glistened on his jacket, and the warmth in his eyes made her heart melt.

"Jack," she said with a smile. She hugged him, then stepped back to allow him in.

"I come bearing gifts," he said, holding up a plain brown paper bag.

"My dinner."

He nodded and handed it over. "I caught the young man heading to the elevator."

"We can share. It's always too much."

"I'm good. I've already eaten. But I was hoping to chat. I've got some things to tell you."

"Me too," she said simply. While Vivian got her dinner ready, Jack made himself a gin and tonic and took a seat on the sofa.

"You look good," he said as she tucked into her bowl.

"Yeah?" She munched away and gave him a look.

They made small talk while she ate. Once she was done with her bowl, Vivian opened a bottle of wine for herself and then joined Jack in the living room. She took a sip, a favorite pinot noir, and let it settle before she swallowed and sat back in her chair.

"You didn't come out in the rain to talk about my hair and skin and how good I look." She winked at Jack. "What do you want to know?"

She'd met him five years ago by accident when she'd bumped into him at a local coffee joint, and his double espresso had ended up down the front of her cream wool jacket. He'd insisted on cleaning it, and she'd insisted that it was her fault so no way would she allow him to pay for the expense, and somehow, they'd kept in touch, and a friendship had blossomed. He'd recently lost his partner, and that wave of guilt she'd been carrying for weeks washed over her again. She was a terrible friend.

Jack pulled at the edge of his soft blue cardigan and looked as if he were considering his words. When he didn't respond, she became concerned and leaned forward.

"I didn't mean to stay away for so long."

He smiled at that. "Staying away looks good on you. Literally." Jack shrugged. "And trust me, honey, you didn't need improvement in that area, but here we are."

She laughed. "You're good for my ego."

"I live to praise." A moment or two passed. "You need to tell me about him."

Vivian's smile slowly faded, and she took a generous sip of wine. Jack knew everything. All the blemishes of her past. He was the one person on the planet she'd been able to be honest with. A man who'd heard every single sin from her past. And a man who'd done nothing but listen without judgment.

He was, quite simply, the father she'd never had.

"He's still there," she said softly.

"I figured as much," Jack replied with a wry grin. "But what does he look like? Has he got a big old beer belly now? Thinning hair? Lose any teeth?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "He's…" She exhaled and shrugged. "He's still larger than life. Hot as hell. Opinionated. Frustrating. Argumentative. His eyes are so blue, they remind me of the Caribbean, and the way he walks…well, it's hard for me to look away. He's quiet and still doesn't say a lot, but he doesn't need to. He's perfect and edgy and hard to read, and I don't think he likes me all that much."

"But you're going back."

Why was she so damn emotional? Vivian nodded and offered up the only explanation she could.

"He kept the unicorn."

"The unicorn?"

"It's a long story."

Jack studied her for a second or two. "I need to hear it one day." He set down his glass. "I know you've been writing your column from Montana, but what will you do about the podcast?"

"That might be a problem. I only have one more unreleased episode. Normally, we could make it work from Montana, tape several episodes, and release them like we've been doing. It would take a few weeks, I guess, but I need a producer out there with me. Todd can't come because his wife is about to give birth, so we're trying to figure that out."

Jack slowly nodded. "I could help you. I'm a bit of a techie, you know."

"That's sweet, but I don't think you understand. You'd have to come to Montana with me."

"That part I got."

Vivian sat back and thought about it. This could work. They could do this. Maybe. "Are you sure? Todd can give you notes on what it is he does exactly, and he'll organize everything." She paused. "I mean, that is if you're serious."

"I am. I've been at loose ends without you here, and with Richard's passing, I need a change of scenery. This will be good for the two of us."

"I'll call Todd tomorrow morning, and we can take a few days to get things sorted out." She sat back, pleased with herself. "So, what was it you wanted to talk about?"

Jack froze halfway, reaching for his gin and tonic.

"When you came here, you said that you wanted to chat." Something shifted in his eyes, and Vivian frowned. "What is it?"

Jack was quiet for a few moments as if conflicted. He turned to her, his soft eyes and direct. "I heard from my friend."

Friend. She frowned, and then it hit like a lightbulb. "The one who…" Her throat tightened, and she had no more words.

Jack nodded. "He found her."

The air left her lungs. "Oh," she replied softly.

Oh.