6. Vivien
P ulled from deep sleep, Vivien blinked into the darkness, swamped with the unsettling feeling of not having any idea where she was.
Oh, Destin.
The best place in the world.
The words from the childish diary entry she’d read before going to sleep floated around in her brain, weirdly fresh but also feeling like they’d been from a lifetime ago.
Because they had.
She turned, inhaling the scent of crisp new sheets and the hint of briny air from outside. Barely conscious, she reached to the nightstand, then remembered that there wasn’t one. Her phone rested on the floor, plugged into the charger.
Rolling over, she spied the little black rectangle and lifted it, bringing it to life to discover that it was only two-thirty. It felt like she’d slept for hours. Deeply and with no dreams.
There was a text from Lacey, sent at midnight. It was long and Vivien wasn’t awake enough to digest it all, but she got the main points. She hated her job, Dad was a pain, the townhouse was lonely, and could she please, please, please come to Destin?
How long until Lacey won that argument, Vivien wondered. Maybe she should just say yes and get her here.
Uncertain of what to do, she stared at the main page of her screen, scanning the apps. She knew what she wanted to press, she knew what was pushing at her heart, wondering and waiting.
Giving in, she went to the Messenger app and checked for an answer from Kate Wylie… again .
Nothing.
But then she sucked in a soft breath as she saw a tiny picture from Kate’s profile at the bottom of her note. Didn’t that mean she’d read it? That made the lack of response hurt a little more than it should.
Which was ridiculous. After thirty years, did Kate Wylie owe her a response? Of course not.
Still, Vivien remembered the witty, wise, and generally wonderful eighteen-year-old girl as a class act. She had an underlying sense of decorum in the way she moved and talked, in her regard for other people’s feelings, and her sense of right and wrong.
Tessa? Not so much regard for feelings or decorum, and her moral compass pointed one way: toward fun.
But now that she knew Kate had seen the message and ignored it? It stung.
Why? Did the Wylies hate the Lawsons as much as her mother hated the Wylies? Did Kate know more than Vivien, or have some deep knowledge about why the two families had parted so unceremoniously?
And if she did, would she hold a grudge for thirty years?
Honestly, Vivien didn’t know how anyone—other than Maggie—could hang on to something so utterly unproductive for three decades.
Sadly, she’d hoped Kate would be better than that. Apparently, she wasn’t.
On that disconcerting thought, she tried to swallow, but her mouth was bone dry. No bedside table, and no bedside water. She hadn’t even grabbed a Solo cup for the bathroom.
Sitting up, she peered into the shadows of the room as a breeze wafted in from the open sliding door. Eli said it was fine to keep it open up here on the third floor, and promised her there was no alarm activated yet.
She’d never close it. The air smelled too good—like saltwater-infused happiness.
Even unfurnished and unlit, this room was magnificent. She would do it in shades of cream with pops of black and white, all neutrals, turning this into a true adult oasis. She tapped the flashlight and let the beam slice through the room, moving it like a spotlight over imaginary chairs and a table, maybe an understated built-in, and some dramatic pieces of art.
Wide awake now, she threw off the sheet and light blanket that superstar Meredith had thought to order for them. Her dry throat won the battle over whether or not to go downstairs and get something to drink, so she let her feet hit the cool plank-wood floor and stood up.
Dressed in her sleep pants and a T-shirt, she used the phone light to find her way through a small vestibule, pausing as she passed Eli’s closed door in the hall.
Eli is acting so different.
The line from twelve-year-old Vivien’s observations of life floated in her head. She’d forgotten that from the summer they’d all met. Her brother, based on what she’d written, had undergone a huge personality change in those months.
Maybe his hormones had kicked in. Maybe the freedom of being at the beach with his buddy had brought out a new Eli, one who’d blessedly disappeared in the ensuing years.
Maybe, she thought as she tiptoed down the stairs into the moonlit living area, something else happened that summer and every single one after—or some one . Someone named Tessa Wylie.
That made her smile as she reached the bottom, slowing to make sure she didn’t miss the last step and face-plant in the darkness. She’d have to tease him about it tomorrow, she mused. Mercilessly, in fact.
Taking a few steps into wide-open living space, she looked beyond the glass doors to the deck. A full moon illuminated the sky and water, shining like a beacon into the house and kitchen.
It was profoundly lovely and…comforting.
To Vivien, that was a very good sign for this house. She always liked to visit a home late at night, before and after she’d decorated them. To her, the real definition of “home” was found in the dark of night, without benefit of people, good lighting, or noise.
That’s when you knew if a house would cuddle and protect you…or make you feel like a stranger in a cold, unfamiliar place.
Not here. Not on this sacred ground in this beautifully built home. Here, Vivien was wrapped in the peace that came with warm touches and the smooth, matte finish of the wood floors under her feet.
Even the high ceilings seemed welcoming and secure, and the kitchen beckoned like a friend waiting to put arms around her.
“Well done, Eli,” she whispered as she crossed the living room. Yes, she’d tease him about the past, but she also had to praise her brilliant brother for his talent right now in the present.
She turned off the phone flashlight, since there was enough moonlight to easily find her way, rounding the counter into the true heart of the home, the gourmet kitchen. They’d had take-out on the deck last night, and she’d thoroughly cleaned every bit of evidence that they’d eaten, wanting to keep the new build as pristine as possible.
Not that they’d be able to do that if they stayed for weeks, but she’d try to respect the newness of the house that they would eventually stage and sell.
She grunted as she opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water, twisting the cap and taking a deep drink for her parched throat.
No question about it, she already hated whoever would be lucky enough to own this house. Yes, that sale would make her far more secure—maybe she could buy a little place of her own, or really invest in her business by building up some staging inventory.
But, wow. To own and then sell this place? It was bittersweet.
Holding her cold water bottle, she wandered through the living room, visualizing the size and scope of the furniture, getting ideas for colors, textures, and a way to dress this utterly magnificent model.
Not for the first time, she was struck by what a shame it was that her mother was so weird and stubborn and strange that she’d kept this secret from them all these years. Even the old cottage, as humble as it had been, would have been an amazing place to visit. Lacey would have loved it so much, and she and Eli and Crista could have given their kids a taste of their special memories of childhood.
She still could.
Glancing at her phone, her heart dropped at the thought of how Lacey longed to be here. Vivien should just tell her to come. Life was so short, and their time left with this house was fleeting.
And this was a big house to stage! She could use the help. She should just text Lacey and?—
She froze at a sound—a soft rustling or a movement of some kind. Had that come from the other side of the house?
At the far end of the living room, past the stairwell, was a wide hallway she’d only been down once today to wash the sheets and supervise the bed delivery. There was a small office and a bedroom and ensuite, too, with a door to the back deck, if memory served her correctly.
Eli hadn’t opted to sleep down there, had he? She could have sworn she’d heard the sound of…something. Or some one .
Her heart stopped. Maybe there was a squatter.
Chills crawled up her back, her whole body suddenly numb. All the comfort, peace, and good vibes evaporated as she stood paralyzed, looking into the darkness of the wing off the living room.
Eli had dispelled the squatter possibility, certain it was just a thoughtless construction worker.
But she’d definitely heard a noise.
One more step and she peered into the wide hallway, which didn’t have the benefit of moonlight to remove the darkest shadows. She’d gone back there when the beds were delivered to show the men where to put the queen-sized mattress and frame. One of them, she recalled, had commented several times about the view.
He’d probably opened the sliding glass door to step out and look at the Gulf, then forgotten to lock or even close it. The breeze would rustle the plastic she’d left on the mattress, which was exactly what that sounded like.
Certain of this theory, she took one more step into the hall, hearing nothing but silence.
Tamping down any qualms, she passed the door to the laundry room, and walked toward the bedroom. Reaching into the doorway, she flattened her hand on the wall to press the switch, bathing the room in blinding light.
“Oh! Hey!”
Vivien shrieked at the feminine voice, freezing in abject horror as she stared into the room, speechless at the sight of a woman scrambling up from the bed in shock.
“What are you doing here?” Vivien yelled out, backing away as terror washed over her at the sight of the stranger.
Sitting straight up, crunching the plastic that covered the new mattress, the woman stared right back, pushing long blond hair over her shoulder.
Swearing under her breath, she grunted. “I fell asleep.”
She fell asleep?
“Who are you?” Vivien demanded, instinctively sensing the woman wasn’t going to hurt her. “Why are you here?”
The woman let out a groan of utter disgust, using two hands to pull up her pale hair and get it out of her face. She didn’t look like any squatter Vivien could have conjured up, that was for sure.
She huffed out a breath and pushed up. “I had nowhere else to go.”
Vivien choked. “Well, sorry, Goldilocks, you can’t just break into a house and?—”
“Vivien! Was that you? Vivien, are you okay?” Eli’s voice echoed from the stairwell, his footsteps moving fast and hard.
“In the back bedroom, Eli! I found the squatter.”
“ What ?”
“I’m not a squatter ,” the woman said, having the absolute audacity to sound indignant. “I used to live here.”
Eli came tearing into the hall, wearing nothing but boxer shorts, slamming to a halt at the doorway.
“Who the hell are you?” he shouted.
She pushed off the bed and Vivien inched behind Eli. Not that the woman looked very threatening. She was petite and thin, dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and pretty darn expensive Nikes.
Was she lost? Mentally unstable? Hiding out or on the run? What was she doing sleeping in their house?
“Look, I thought the place was…” Her voice trailed off as she looked from one to the other, her jaw dropping a bit. “Wait a second. Wait just one ever-lovin’ second. Did you say Vivien and Eli ? As in Lawson ?”
Vivien glanced at her brother, who was staring at the woman like she was a literal apparition.
“Who are you?” Vivien asked on a whisper.
She didn’t answer, but Eli took one step closer, his shoulders rising and falling. “I don’t believe it. I absolutely don’t believe it. It’s really you.”
The woman laughed, a familiar, haunting, lyrical sound. She put her hand on her hip and angled her head. “Tessa Wylie, in the flesh.” She flicked a hand with a gesture of self-deprecation. “Such as it is at the moment.”
“ Tessa ?” Vivien croaked her name. “What are you doing here?”
“Now that, my friends…” She closed her eyes and gave a soft sigh. “…is a long story.”
“Then why don’t you tell it?” Eli asked.
She crossed her arms and gave that sly, all-knowing smile that Tessa once used to torment and tease. “Does that mean I can stay?”
“Let’s meet in the living room in five minutes,” he said, pivoting and walking out, presumably to get dressed.
Vivien just stared at Tessa, who lifted a brow. “Well, hey, old friend. Nice to see you.”
Nope, she hadn’t changed, not one bit. She was the same fearless, sassy, too beautiful for her own good girl who’d touched a barracuda and climbed a coconut tree.
And now, Vivien knew, everything about this little adventure had changed.