4. Vivien
V ivien closed the notebook and dropped it on top of the others in the bright pink plastic box next to her bed, a sigh on her lips. She was always amused and amazed when she took a moment to read one of her diary entries from the summers they’d spent here as kids. She was glad the old Lisa Frank notebooks had survived the weather and years at the original beach house, and grateful that Eli had saved them when he demo’d the place.
She was still working her way through the second journal—too much of a steady diet of pink Flair pen wasn’t good for the soul. It was truly enlightening to realize that more than thirty years had passed since she’d written those words, and to be honest? Some things hadn’t changed.
Crista was the family disrupter, and Vivien still battled guilt for not being nicer to her little sister.
“Hey, you mind if I shower?” Lacey stepped out of the ensuite, still in her pajamas. She added a crooked smile. “Since somehow we’ve become roommates again.”
“Just for one night, Lace,” she said. “Crista will go back to Atlanta today and you can have that bedroom again.”
“It’s all right,” Lacey said. “I like bunking with you, Mom. I’m weirdly attached to you that way.”
“Like Crista and Maggie,” she mused under her breath.
Lacey frowned. “I don’t think their relationship is as healthy as ours. For one thing, has Aunt Crista ever disagreed with Grandma Maggie? God knows you and I have had different opinions.”
“I think there’s more disagreement with Crista and Maggie than we realize.” As she spoke, Vivien walked toward the wall of French doors that led out to a third-floor balcony and looked down at the beach.
The Gulf was so turquoise today it was almost green, and the sand literally as white as snow. Sun sparkled on the water all the way to the horizon, a vista that Vivien felt like she could stare at forever.
“Did Crista tell you that?” Lacey asked, coming over as if the view drew her closer, too. But Lacey’s gaze was locked on Vivien, with concern in eyes nearly as blue as the sky above them. “Are you okay, Mom?”
Vivien lifted a shoulder. “We got whacked by Hurricane Crista last night. It always gets me here.” She tapped her solar plexus. “A mix of anger and guilt. I was always the one stuck taking care of her if Mom wasn’t around. And I got furious. Then I would fold with guilt because she was the odd man out—all the time, not just those summers. It’s hard being that much younger than your siblings.”
“I guess,” Lacey said, looking past her toward the water. “I’m an only, so—oh.” She jutted her chin. “There she is.”
Vivien peered to the end of the brand-new boardwalk that ran as an elevated forty-foot walkway from their lower level, over the dunes, to the beach.
Crista sat by herself at the very end, looking out toward the water.
“Oh.” Vivien whimpered. “See? I can taste her sadness from here. And I love her. All her dramatics are just a way to get the attention she craved as a kid.”
Lacey lifted a dubious brow. “She’s married and has a daughter and is forty-three years old. She doesn’t need to stir up controversy to get attention.”
“She hasn’t for a long time, but…” Vivien sighed and listened to her heart. “I’m going to talk to her.” She gave Lacey a kiss on the cheek. “You shower and enjoy some privacy.”
Wondering what mood Crista would be in, Vivien stopped in the kitchen and poured two cups of coffee, fixing one to Crista’s exact preferences, and headed down the stairs to the lower level and the boardwalk.
The April sun warmed her arms, and a soft breeze lifted her hair as she made her way across the wooden planks. Crista sat unmoving on the top step to the sand.
Her posture, usually upright and impeccable, was slouched, her shoulders heavy with the weight of her thoughts.
Vivien knew few people as well as she knew Crista. Of course, her sister, younger by seven years, was not an enigma. She wore her emotions on display, constantly strived for perfection, and was driven by a deep and abiding loyalty to their mother.
A shrink could probably figure out the “why’s” of all those things—a late-in-life baby who’d become like an only child at twelve years old to a single mother. Crista was most definitely a product of an unconventional and sometimes sad upbringing.
She was the most like Maggie, too, despite her dark coloring that favored the Lawson side of the family. In some ways, she was the smartest of the three of them, with grades that put Eli and Vivien’s to shame.
But then, she was far more studious and never missed a class or assignment in her life, and getting the top grade in school mattered so much to her.
Now, in life, being perceived as “perfect” was still important to Crista, something that was evident to Vivien when she’d helped decorate Crista and Anthony’s house. Everything in order, everything just so. It was a difficult way to live.
Vivien cleared her throat softly.
“Oh.” Crista whipped around, surreptitiously swiping under her eyes.
Poor thing. Nothing about this situation was…perfect.
With a lifetime of being the middle-child peacemaker spurring her on, Vivien slowed her step, gauging the situation.
“Can I interrupt your alone time? I come bearing coffee—one sugar, one and a half tablespoons of heavy cream, one ice cube.”
Crista’s shoulders moved in a laugh. “Impressive, Viv. You are granted permission to enter my bubble.”
Vivien handed her the cup and lowered herself carefully to the top step, balancing her own coffee. “What’s happening in this bubble?” she asked.
“I was just admiring the colors of Destin, actually. I think whoever invented ‘seafoam green’ must have been to Destin. And the sand? It literally looks like sugar. They’re still my favorite colors and, honestly, no other beach I’ve ever seen quite captures them.”
“Totally agree. I’ve tried to incorporate that palette in the décor.” Vivien took a sip, settling in next to her sister. “I had a panic attack thinking you’d left.”
Crista shot her a look. “Do you get them?”
“Panic attacks?” She frowned. “Not really.”
“Well, I’ve had a few. Not fun.”
“Oh, girl.” Vivien draped an arm over Crista’s shoulders, noticing how thin they felt. “I wish you’d listen to your older siblings and stay here for a while. If nothing else, Jonah’s cooking will fatten you up.”
She smiled. “Jonah. Now there’s someone I hadn’t expected to see here.”
“None of us did. He’s got some issues and Eli’s helping him out.”
“He’s always had issues,” she said, setting the untouched coffee to the side. “Ever since Melissa died and he…changed.”
Vivien nodded, remembering the confident, athletic superstar Eli’s son had been at fifteen. He’d been utterly destroyed by the loss of his mother, a TV news personality who was killed in a private plane crash.
The entire family had been gutted, but no one worse than that teenage boy, who was now nearly thirty and still fighting the demons of his loss.
“Well, get this.” Vivien leaned into her. “He’s got a girlfriend named Carly in California…and she’s eight months pregnant.”
Crista gasped. “Seriously? Does Mama know?”
“Why is Maggie your first thought?” Vivien asked, not able to hold back the question. She braced for blowback from Crista.
But she just shrugged and turned toward the water. “I wish she wasn’t,” she admitted. “Sometimes I’m suffocated by her.”
Sometimes? But Vivien tamped down the thought and brushed some sand off the wood planks.
“No, Maggie doesn’t know she’s going to be a great-grandmother.”
Crista smiled. “She’ll flip. She’s tough on us, but she’s always had a soft spot for her grands. I can only imagine her with a ‘great-grand.’ And Jonah? How’s he feeling about being a father?”
“Terrified, I’d imagine. His girlfriend has sort of booted him with a demand he get his life together. He’s trying to get into a local culinary arts program, since it turns out he’s a whiz in the kitchen. Which beats being the drifter he’s been for most of his twenties.”
Crista nodded, gnawing at her lower lip, staring straight ahead. “That’s cool. He’s a good guy, just lost and had a tough break.”
They sat quietly for a few moments, the sound of gulls and the surf filling the air.
“So, you thinking about Eli’s offer for you to stay here for a while?” Vivien finally asked. “We would absolutely love it, Cris.”
“I’m thinking about a lot of things,” she said.
“Is being around Tessa really that upsetting?” Vivien asked gently, trying to ease into the conversation. “I mean, she’s not evil. Maybe if you would just?—”
“It’s not just that,” Crista interrupted, finally turning to face her. “It’s not Tessa. It’s…everything.”
Vivien waited for an explanation, but her sister turned back to the water with a sigh. “My life is a hot mess,” she whispered.
“What? Your life? What could possibly be a ‘hot mess’ in Crista Merritt’s world?” Vivien asked.
Crista snorted.
“Seriously,” Vivien pressed on. “You have a gorgeous house, a devoted husband, a precious daughter. And Maggie might be a challenge, but you two have always had a freakishly close relationship and, honestly, no one handles her as well as you do. I mean, I’d die if she lived with me.”
Slowly, Crista turned and gave a shockingly direct look. “It ain’t easy, Viv.”
Vivien blew out a breath. “Well, if there’s anything I can do…”
“Just understand that there’s a lot going on, which is probably why I turned into a raving shrew last night.”
“A lot with Maggie…or other things?” she asked gently.
Crista sighed heavily, rubbing her temples. “Nolie is having…some issues. And things with Mom are tense because of it. And Anthony and I have been fighting a lot about it, and it’s a big ugly mess.”
“Nolie?” Vivien’s concern deepened, thinking of her precious seven-year-old niece. “What kind of issues?”
Crista hesitated again, dragging her bare foot in the sand below. “She’s not…reading,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Vivien blinked, trying to process this. “At all?”
Crista shook her head. “The speech pathologist in our school district thinks she has dyslexia, but we haven’t taken her to a doctor or anything. Mama refuses to believe it, Anthony thinks he can drill it out of her with hours of forced reading, and her teacher thinks she should repeat second grade and…and…”
“And what do you think?” Vivien asked.
Crista closed her eyes. “I was going to hold her back until…until…this morning.”
“This— What happened this morning?”
“Believe it or not, a conversation with Tessa.”
Vivien sucked in a soft breath. “Oh, yeah. She often jokes about her dyslexia.”
“Except it’s not funny.”
“But she’s okay.”
Crista nodded, glancing over her shoulder at the house behind them.
“She’s actually more than okay,” she said. “She’s the first person who was ever real about it, and the first time I’ve had hope.”
Vivien’s heart clenched. “That’s awesome. I’m glad you talked to her, Cris.”
“She offered to help Nolie,” Crista said. “Which is pretty darn classy, considering the things I said last night.”
Vivien felt a spark of pride for Tessa’s handling of the situation, which made no sense, but it was real. She’d grown incredibly fond of Tessa this past month and realized how much they’d pigeon-holed the woman as flighty, fun-loving, and too pretty for her own good.
“She has a good heart,” Vivien said, and meant it. “And I bet she could help Nolie a lot.”
Crista bit her lip, again, clearly conflicted. “I know. But…” She made a face. “Talk about consorting with the enemy.”
“She’s not an enemy,” Vivien insisted. “She’s a kind and spunky and wonderful person who has become a dear friend, and she’s a fantastic mentor to Lacey. Even if it’s true about Artie, there’s no good reason to take it out on Tessa. Oh, I know what Maggie told you, and I know your loyalty lies with her, but…think of what this could do for Nolie.”
Crista’s shoulders slumped. “I am. I have been. It’s all I can think about.” She reached for her phone, tapping the screen. “I was reading this article that says a child with dyslexia can benefit the most from learning from adults who also have it and have conquered it. They understand the different way the brain processes words. Anthony and I certainly don’t. We don’t know how to help.”
“But Tessa does,” Vivien said gently.
Crista looked at her, her internal struggle written all over her face. Finally, she nodded, though reluctantly. “If Mama ever found out…”
“Does she have to?”
“Well…” Crista groaned. “I cannot lie to that woman.”
“She’s gone, Cris. She’s in the Netherlands, then France, and won’t be back until…when?”
“May third at 9:30, which is thirty-three days. And a half. Not that I’m counting.”
Vivien laughed at that.
“Viv, do you think I could…” She groaned. “Lie to Maggie? Is it possible?”
“Maybe you wouldn’t have to, or at least only by omission. Nolie’s your daughter, Crista. Her well-being trumps everything. And, honestly, you can do anything you want, assuming Anthony agrees.”
“He might,” she said. “And if he does, then I could take Nolie out of school for the rest of the year while Maggie’s away. Should I? No, no. It’s crazy. What if the truth comes out?”
Vivien dropped her head back, eyes closed. “Are we really that scared of our mother at this age? Why?”
“Because she’s the only parent we have,” Crista said. “And I don’t know about you, but I’m not willing to lose another one.”
“I get that,” Vivien said. “I’ll cover for you, Cris. If this is going to help Nolie? I will lie to her if I have to. I’d do anything for that little girl, and you know it.”
Crista’s face folded and tears sprang to her eyes. “Oh, Viv. That’s so sweet.”
“I love her.” She put her hand on Crista’s cheek. “And I love you. I promise, if you two stay, we will not let you be the odd man out. I promise this will be different than those summers.”
She blinked and a tear fell. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she said on a trapped sob. “I cry all the time lately.”
“Because you’re under enormous stress,” Vivien said. “This is the perfect solution. You get a break, Nolie gets a new kind of teacher, and we get to make up for all those summers when you didn’t have a friend. There are plenty around here.”
Crista searched her face, thinking hard, clearly having a mental battle.
“You and Nolie can share that upstairs room,” Vivien added, trying to seal the deal. “Will she want to come?”
“Of course. She hates school. The only problem is she’ll miss her little dance recital.”
“A month at the beach should make it up to her,” Vivien said. “I love this idea, Crista!”
“Do you think Tessa is…right for the job?”
Vivien smiled, relief washing over her. “I do. You can’t believe how she’s connected with Lacey. All she does is tease me about stealing my daughter and taking her for her own, so be careful. She’s like the Pied Piper and girls of all ages follow her.”
“And you promise that Mama will never find out?”
Vivien made a big X on her chest with her finger. “Promise.” Then she leaned over and hugged her sister. “Look, I know it’s hard for you to rebel in any way, shape, or form, but you’re doing the right thing, I know it.”
Crista didn’t respond, but her expression softened as they separated.
Vivien squeezed her arm one more time before standing. “Are you leaving soon?” she asked. “Or can you stay for a nice Jonah breakfast? They’re crazy good.”
She shook her head. “This whole thing has just kind of upset my stomach.” She picked up the untouched mug. “Thank you for this, but I don’t need anything to make me stressier.”
“Dump it. And all your worries. Bring them to this seafoam green Gulf along with Nolie. We could use a kid around here.”
Crista smiled. “I’m going to drive home to Atlanta right away and talk to Anthony. Assuming he agrees, and I can get her out of school, we’ll be back by the weekend.” She pushed up, and took Vivien’s hand. “I love you.”
They hugged hard and Crista went ahead just as Vivien’s phone buzzed with a text from Eli.
“I’ll catch up with you, Cris.” She tapped the phone and read his message.
Eli Lawson: Hey, guess who’s coming to Destin? No, not Kate, LOL. Peter just called and said the Pensacola PD is sending him this way for a few weeks to work on a case. They’re putting him up at an Airbnb but we’ll probably see a lot of him while he’s here. In fact, I’m grabbing a bite with him tonight. You cool if I ask him if he can get access to any files from Dad’s old case? Just curious. Okay with you?
Peter McCarthy? Now that was a coincidence. She’d just been mooning over him in her diaries. And, of course, since he was a detective over in Pensacola, he’d be a great person to ask for help.
She texted back a thumbs-up emoji, thinking about the man who’d come for dinner not too long ago. A veteran of the divorce wars, he’d encouraged her to take the high road with Ryan. Look how well that turned out.
She couldn’t quite muster the weak-in-the-knees sensation she used to feel during those teenage summers, but she was certainly looking forward to spending time with Peter.
As she walked up to the house, she hummed the melody of that old song, “Nothing Compares 2 U.”
She never did get to slow dance with him to that song, she remembered with a smile.
Huh. Never say never, Viv.