11. Finn
eleven
Finn
I t’s pathetic the way my heart catapults to the pebbled walkway the instant I see Vivian waiting for me outside Bayside Table.
Truly pitiful. I’ve been in rooms with supermodels and movie stars, and yet, the way Vivian gives her signature small wave/smile combo to the two locals passing her before her face completely transforms when she sees me is enough to end a man.
Pair her carefree, luminescent smile with the way Vivian bounces like she’s just been given a kitten, and it feels like my armor is melting beneath her joyous gaze.
“You made it.”
I give her a practiced, roguish smile. “You had doubts?”
Vivian rolls her eyes. “Can you turn off the charm machine for tonight? I’m going to introduce you to the town.”
“Pretty sure the town knows me.” I scoff, sliding my hands into my pockets.
Vivian requested casual clothes for tonight’s meet-up, so I changed into shorts and a fitted t-shirt. She’s switched into a smocked dress, that falls just below her knees, and sandals.
“No,” she argues, gesturing for me to follow her away from the Bayside Table’s main entrance and to a path around to the left side. “They know Finn-the-mainlander, who’s trying to destroy our library.”
“I’m not trying to destroy anything,” I grumble.
“Exactly.” She stops, spinning to face me so quickly we almost collide. “Tonight, we’ll show them that.”
I tilt my head. “How?”
“By letting them see the relaxed version of you I saw on Friday.” The confident smirk on her mouth has no right being that distracting. “Come and socialize with them without having an agenda. Let them see the real you.”
My skin burns as if it’s been pelted by shrapnel, but I keep my face expressionless.
I can count on one hand the number of people who know the real me, and on one finger the number of people who actually like that man.
When Cordelia surges to the front of my thoughts, it’s a comfort.
Grounding. Reminding me of my ultimate goal.
A deep breath fills my lungs as I loosen the tension in my shoulders.
“Alright, gorgeous.” I gesture to the path behind her. “Lead the way.”
When we turn the corner of the building, the grassy area that’s normally dewy and silent during my morning runs brims with life.
A group of high school students play giant connect four, their plastic cups of soda resting on a nearby picnic table.
Two couples compete at cornhole while three small children—who should probably be in bed, given that it’s nearly nine—use giant Jenga blocks to build a castle.
Several more groups gather around the remaining tables.
The outdoor bar is filled to capacity—a body on every stool and more on the small dance floor, chatting.
A low retaining wall separates the outdoor bar/dance space from the bay beyond, likely to keep intoxicated individuals from falling in the water.
In the grassy area, however, you can walk right up to the water’s unkempt edge.
I eye the trio of children, hoping that someone is watching them with the proximity of the dark, ominous bay.
“There’s also the problem that if I keep talking to locals about your virtuous nature without being seen with you, it might be seen as suspicious.
” Vivian changes her voice to sound shockingly similar to Carol Cook’s.
“How could shy, helpless Vivian ever speak to the new librarian, let alone befriend him? She must be making all this up or, worse, be under his evil spell. Burn the mainlander!”
“That went dark real quick.” I keep my tone light, even though the idea of anyone putting Vivian down makes my jaw pop.
She shrugs, but her grin wavers at the edges.
“Mr. Reynolds?”
I’d been so absorbed in Vivian—in how I was going to turn that fake smile into a real one—that I missed Patricia standing two feet in front of us. Her gaze bounces from me to Vivian, stalling as she practically snorts her sip of beer.
“Hey, I know you.” The man beside Patricia steps forward to slap my shoulder.
I blink up and recognize…Rollerblade Guy.
I’ve given friendly nods to the handful of islanders I encounter on my morning run, and the only one who ever smiles back is Rollerblade Guy.
Tonight, he’s traded his Rollerblades, cut-off denim shorts, and hairy bare chest for a pair of slacks and a too-big polo.
“Hey.” I smile back. “It’s good to see—”
“What are you doing here?” Patricia asks, eyes narrow.
My left temple ticks, but before I can answer, Vivian speaks.
“He’s with me.” Vivian pauses, chewing on her lower lip.
That simple sentence shouldn’t feel like an EMP blast within my ribs, but I struggle to keep my breathing even.
“It turns out Brynn had it wrong,” she starts, quietly at first but growing in strength with each word.
“Finn only wants to do the right thing for our library and our town. Once I found out, I offered to show Finn the town’s nightlife since I know…
” She swallows, green eyes darting to mine for only a millisecond.
“I know what it’s like to be on the outskirts. ”
Patricia’s standoffishness dissolves instantly as she wraps one arm around Vivian’s shoulder, giving her a maternal squeeze. My lungs have decided to stop functioning, but Rollerblade Guy just barks a laugh, gesturing around us.
“If you wanted nightlife, you found it. This is the only place in town. It’s not all bad, though. They’ve got music trivia on Tuesdays, karaoke on Thursdays, and live music and dancing on Saturdays.”
“Don’t forget Friday night bingo at the library. Though”—Patricia releases Vivian, lifting her brows at me—“Letitia said there might be other evening programs added to our calendar soon.”
During our impromptu meeting, Letitia floated a multitude of possible events—from puzzle swaps, to gardening lectures, to paint nights, to tai chi, to scanning home photos for digital storage.
The library already has a popular book club that meets once a month and a Saturday afternoon knitting/crochet/embroidery circle in addition to its storytime programs.
“Really?” Vivian asks.
I try not to interpret the soft look in her eyes, keeping my smile congenial. “We’re considering new ideas.”
“This town could use them.” The man laughs again before offering his hand to me. “I’m Greg, by the way.”
Patricia and Greg dissolve into conversation on what’s missing in Wilks Beach as the bartender pushes an orange crush cocktail Vivian’s way. “Here ya go, love.”
I don’t miss the slight wince before Vivian responds with a small smile and smaller thanks.
“Newcomer, what’ll it be?” The woman points at me, her tattooed arms a blur of different patterns.
Newcomer? I suppose that’s better than Mainlander .
“Whiskey, neat, please.”
She gives me a curt nod, turning away to pour my drink.
Deafening mic feedback has everyone wincing and covering their ears.
“Sorry about that,” a voice booms before the volume is quickly lowered.
“Welcome to music trivia. I’m Izzy, your host.” Several enthusiastic wooooos go up from the crowd.
“Grab your score card if you haven’t yet. We start at the end of this song.”
“HandClap” reverberates through the speakers.
After collecting my drink, starting a tab, and saying goodbye to Patricia and Greg, we grab our laminated score cards and dry-erase markers and make our way to two vacant Adirondack chairs in the grass.
The double-sided card doesn’t contain answer slots like I’d expected but a Motown-themed bingo card.
“Isn’t this music bingo?”
Vivian kicks off her sandals and folds her legs criss-cross beneath her. If I was a betting man, I’d wager there are bike shorts beneath her flower-patterned dress.
“Technically, but Izzy didn’t want to ruffle Ida’s feathers and compete with the library’s bingo night, so she named it something else.” When I stare blankly, she adds, “Ida was the activities librarian before she retired five”—she squints at the star-speckled sky—“six years ago.”
Vivian takes a sip of her cocktail and grimaces.
“Is something wrong with your drink?”
Conflict skirts over her brow before she focuses on her scorecard. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine,” I tell her, seeing through the lie.
Those green eyes peek at me, her thumbnail scrubbing at a marker remnant.
“Brynn ordered this drink for us when we turned twenty-one. It’s Brynn’s favorite, but I’m not fond of it.
Every time I come in, Cynthia makes it for me.
She thinks she’s doing me a favor by not making me order.
She probably assumes twin sisters like the same thing.
” Vivian lifts a helpless shoulder. “She’s trying to be nice. ”
The speed with which I stand, snatching the plastic cup and flinging its contents onto the grass, startles us both. After a beat, I ask, “What do you really want to drink?”
“I—” She twists her ring. “I’ve always wanted to try their strawberry Moscow mule.”
Antsy energy surges through my veins, but I don’t move. The fact that Vivian has been politely consuming a drink she doesn’t enjoy for six years makes me want to burn down this whole establishment. “And if you don’t like it?”
A slow smile lifts her lips, blindsiding me. “I’ll let you dramatically throw it in the grass?”
My surprised laugh has the dual effect of broadening Vivian’s grin and easing the pressure behind my breastbone. “You knew that dramatics were part of the deal.”
She rolls her eyes, but her smile doesn’t slip. “Fine.”
“Yes, I am. Thank you for noticing.” I wink just to get her to huff in exasperation.
Vivian shakes her head. “Go get my drink so we can get down to business. I did my part in making you look less vile to the townspeople. Now I need your help with something.”
“Sure thing, gorgeous.”
I give her a second wink before turning to the bar, knowing that Vivian could ask me to walk barefoot over shards of glass, and I’d do so with a smile.