Chapter 3 #2
Kalista scowled and shoved off the covers.
She shouldn’t have let Daddy make her come to Podunk, Arkansas.
She should be back in Los Angeles with her friends having fun, hanging out at the beach.
She was a California girl through and through.
She was also starting to think Bettany put her dad up to this.
She wouldn’t put it past her current stepmother to use the time Kalista was away to dip her paws further into Daddy’s bank account.
“But Daddy has to teach me a lesson,” she muttered as she got up from the bed.
“What?” Viv was inside the closet, pushing hangers across the clothes bar. She poked her head outside the door. “Oh boy,” she said, looking at Kalista from head to toe before ducking back into the closet again.
“What?” Kalista walked toward her.
Viv tossed a robe at her. “Put this on. You can’t walk around the house wearing next to nothing.”
Kalista looked down at her plum-colored negligee. “What’s wrong with this?”
“It’s inappropriate.”
“It’s a nightgown, Viv. You’ve worn less than this at the beach.”
“And I regret being so immodest.
“A bikini isn’t immodest. Neither is a little nightgown.” Kalista rolled her eyes. “It’s not like it’s see-through.”
“It’s too short and leaves too little to the imagination.” Viv crossed her arms. “I don’t want you to embarrass Bo if he drops by. There are also men working outside and getting the property ready for Saturday.”
Although Viv’s tone was kind, Kalista scowled anyway and slipped on the frumpy housecoat. Her skin recoiled at the polyester fabric, the pattern straight out of the seventies—large yellow flowers on an avocado green background. “Where did you get this thing?”
“It belonged to Bo’s mother.” Viv shut the door. “It’s vintage, by the way. Don’t be so condescending.”
Kalista put her hands on her hips. “You wouldn’t have worn this a few years ago.”
Viv faced her. “I’ve grown up since then. Do you want sausage gravy with your biscuits?”
“Ew, carbs.”
Viv sighed. “Suit yourself,” she said, and walked out of the room.
Kalista plopped down on the edge of the bed and folded her arms over her chest. Viv had picked her up from the airport in Little Rock yesterday, and they had caught up during the drive to Clementine.
But it wasn’t long into their conversation that Kalista realized Viv was different.
When they got to Bo’s house where Viv was living until they got married, he’d already gone to bed in something called a bunkhouse.
Kalista was still trying to comprehend that Viv was engaged to an almost fifty-year-old farmer who’d never been married before.
Then there was the house—a fifties-era cottage with only two bedrooms, one bathroom, a tiny kitchen with linoleum flooring, and a small living room that featured a TV on a stand.
How could anyone live in a place so small, even if they were single?
When Viv and Daddy were married, she decorated their massive LA house in the latest style, and everything was expensive and chic, not country bumpkin.
The woman had gone all Little House on the Prairie .
She reached for her phone and checked for any texts or voice-mails.
She’d let her friends know she was leaving “on vacation” but didn’t tell them where—just gave hints that it was somewhere tropical and expensive and that she’d be gone awhile.
Huh. Not a single call or message, not even from Ryan.
She thought about calling him, then remembered it was way too early. Her friends rarely stirred until noon.
Scratching her arm, she felt the polyester fabric again and jumped up from the bed.
Her skin didn’t need this kind of abuse.
She opened one of her Louis Vuitton suitcases and searched for something to wear to her interview.
Finally deciding on a crimson off-the-shoulder dress and sandals, she got dressed, then squeezed into the minuscule bathroom and peered at her reflection.
Ugh, the humidity was already frizzing her blond hair, so she swept it up in a long ponytail to hide the state of it.
“Kalista, breakfast is ready!” Viv called from the kitchen.
“Be there in a minute.” She needed to do her makeup and apply a generous amount of hairspray to the flyaways that were already escaping her ponytail.
“Kitchen’s closing in ten minutes,” Viv said. “You eat now, or you don’t eat at all.”
“What a crabby patty,” Kalista muttered. She didn’t remember Viv being so militant either. Oh well, she’d scarf down a piece of bacon, finish getting dressed, then find a decent coffee shop for a much-needed cappuccino. Surely there was one in downtown Clementine.
Viv was at the kitchen sink washing dishes in a white apron with a frilly red hem. She turned and tilted her head toward the round table. “Help yourself... Wait.” Viv dried her hands and faced her. “You’re not wearing that to your interview.”
“What’s wrong with this?” First, she’d criticized her nightwear, and now she was fussing about her cute outfit. It was certainly modest enough. There was nothing indecent about a bare shoulder.
“You look like you’re going to a cocktail party.” Her expression grew soft. “You’ve never been to a job interview before, have you?”
Kalista lifted her chin. Until now, she’d never needed to. What was the point of having an über-rich father if she had to work for her money?
Viv pulled out a chair. “Let’s have breakfast first. Then we’ll look at the clothes you brought. Surely you have something suitable.”
“This is suitable,” she muttered and sat down.
Viv placed a small plate with one boiled egg and two pieces of bacon in front of Kalista. Then she poured two cups of coffee and joined her at the table. Kalista had just picked up one of the bacon strips when Viv took her hand.
“We pray before our meals,” she said softly.
Kalista set the bacon down. Viv closed her eyes and prayed silently while Kalista stared at her plate. She’d never prayed or gone to church in her life. Her daddy always played golf on Sundays, and her other stepmothers always slept in. Like I should be doing.
When Viv finished, she picked up her coffee cup and took a sip. “Bo’s coming over for supper tonight. He’s eager to meet you. We’re having pork chops, baked potatoes, and salad. Would you mind going to the Piggly Wiggly after your interview and picking up a few things?”
“The wiggle what?”
“Piggly Wiggly. That’s our closest grocery store, and there’s been so much to do lately I haven’t had time to stock up for your visit. I’ll give you a list and some money. Feel free to get what you want to eat too.”
“Do they have a sushi bar?” She bit into the bacon. Wow. It was delicious.
“Ah, no.”
“Do they have an organic section at least?”
She shook her head. “Not at this grocery store. The pork and chicken we raise here on the farm is organic, but Bo doesn’t have a garden, and I didn’t have time to put one in this year.
I will next spring. If you need other organics, we can go to Harrison or take a trip to Russellville.
Maybe even go to Little Rock, although that’s quite a drive. ”
“How do you live so isolated, Viv?”
“I love it.” She sat back in her chair. “I got so tired of the fast-paced life. It was burning me out.”
“Is that why you left modeling too?” She’d always wondered, but until now she never asked.
As a kid, she hadn’t wanted Viv to get mad at her and not see her anymore after the divorce, and when she got older, well, she wasn’t really interested.
Seeing Viv’s shocking change piqued her curiosity again.
She shook her head. “The industry was soul crushing, Kalista. I used to lament that I’d never made it to the top, but now I’m glad I didn’t.”
“You could have, though. You could still model now.” Despite the lack of glamour, Viv had kept her figure, and for an older woman, she still looked stunning.
“I’m happy here in Clementine, and I love the farm and small-town life. Bo is the best thing that ever happened to me.” She took Kalista’s hand again, her eyes misty. “Did I tell you how much it means to me that you’re going to be at my wedding?”
Surprised, Kalista felt a lump form in her throat.
“I’m glad I will be too.” From what she could tell, Viv’s wedding was the only thing she had to look forward to, other than going back to California.
It was nice to hear someone wanted her to be around.
Until the past week or so, her daddy didn’t seem to care, and of course Bettany and her other stepmothers had seen her as a nuisance.
But not Viv. Kalista smiled—her first real one since leaving LA.
Viv glanced at the rooster clock on the wall. “You need to hurry or you’ll be late for your interview with Sebastian.” She jumped up from the chair and dragged Kalista to the bedroom. “You’ll barely have time to change clothes.”
“But I still have to put on my makeup.” That was a thirty-minute process, minimum.
“There’s no time for that.” At Kalista’s shocked look, Viv added, “Don’t worry. You’re lovely without it.”
Kalista grimaced, doubting her words. Her hair looked awful, she had no idea what kind of dowdy clothes Viv would insist she wear, and now she couldn’t put on makeup. What a disaster. It’s going to be a long three months.