19. Vivienne #2
Patrick is quiet for a moment, his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest. “Maybe you should invite her over.”
Wesley’s head snaps up. “What?”
“Invite her and Blair to family dinner. Sit down and talk through the business properly. Not at the docks where everyone’s watching and judging.
” Patrick’s voice is reasonable and calm.
The voice of someone who’s solved a thousand family crises.
“Maybe if you explain how things work in a less charged environment, show her the ropes without an audience, she’ll be more receptive. ”
“Dad, she doesn’t want to learn the ropes. She wants to reinvent the whole operation. Modernize it. Make it ‘more efficient.’” The air quotes again.
“Because she’s scared,” Patrick supplies simply.
“Her father left her a business she doesn’t understand.
A legacy she doesn’t know how to honor. And she’s probably terrified of failing him and running his life’s work into the ground.
So she’s trying to control what she can and make changes so at least she’s doing something instead of just watching it fall apart. ”
Wesley looks skeptical, his mouth pulling to one side. “I don’t know if that will help anything.”
“I could meet up with her,” I mutter the words, hoping no one heard them as soon as they are out.
Everyone turns to look at me again.
Oh God. Why did I say that? What am I doing? I don’t even know these people. I don’t know Sloane. I have no business inserting myself into a family business and fishing disputes and complicated grief.
I’m just a consultant.
“What?” Wesley looks skeptical, his eyebrows raised almost to his hairline.
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly way too dry. It’s too late to take it back now or pretend I didn’t speak.
“If she’s taking over a fishing operation with no background in it, she’s going to need help with the business side.
” I’m warming to it now despite my nerves.
The consultant part of my brain kicking in, finding the problem and the solution.
“Supply chains, pricing strategies, how to position herself with buyers. How to read a P&L. I could stop by and offer some guidance. Maybe help her understand what she actually has before she starts changing everything.” I look at Wesley, trying to read his expression.
“It might smooth things over with your routes if she feels like she has a handle on what she’s doing. ”
Wesley stares at me, his expression unreadable.
The silence stretches.
“Only if you want,” I add quickly, second-guessing myself.
“I just — a fishing business that doesn’t know how to run itself is a problem for everyone who depends on those waters.
” I glance at Callum, then back to Wesley.
“And Callum relies on those waters. His whole menu depends on what comes in. If the fishing operations are in chaos, it affects his supply chain too. And I know business. I could help. Maybe.”
A long silence. Long enough that I start to regret everything.
When I finally risk a glance back at Callum, he’s staring at me. His expression is completely open and unguarded in a way I haven’t seen in a long time.
My breath catches, and heat floods my face.
“That’s —” Wesley starts then stops. He looks at Patrick, then back at me. “That’s actually —”
“Really generous,” Patrick finishes, and his voice has that warmth in it again. “That would mean a lot, Vivienne. To all of us. Thank you.”
Wesley is still looking at me with an expression I can’t fully decode. He looks like he’s struggling against the surprise that I would offer or that I would even care about his problem.
“I’ll get you her number,” he says finally. “If you’re serious.”
“I’m serious.”
“Is she cute?” Beckett asks into the settling quiet.
The whole room goes silent.
Every head turns toward Beckett almost violently.
“What?” Wesley’s voice is dangerous and controlled in a way that’s worse than yelling.
“I’m just asking.” Beckett holds up both hands in surrender, but there’s mischief in his eyes. “Nose ring, tattoos, taking over a fishing empire. Sounds like she might be —”
“Her father just died, Beckett.” Wesley’s voice is harsh in a way that makes everyone pause.
“Like, a week ago. That’s — she’s grieving.
She’s trying to handle her father’s business while processing the fact that he’s gone.
That’s not — it’s not relevant whether she’s —” He cuts himself off, his jaw clenching. “Don’t piss me off, Beckett.”
Beckett holds up both hands higher. “Okay, okay. Just asking. Sorry.”
I catch the look that passes between Hayes and Callum and the slight raise of Patrick’s eyebrows. The way Iris is suddenly very interested in the hem of her cardigan.
That was not a normal reaction.
“Anyway,” Wesley says firmly, his voice brooking no argument. “That’s my low. Hayes, you’re up.”
The transition is abrupt, almost aggressive, but Hayes takes the cue without missing a beat.
“Okay. Great. Uh, high …” Hayes stretches his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankle. “I finished the Miller project this week. They loved the design and approved everything on the first try, and I got the bonus I was hoping for.”
“That’s great,” Patrick says, pleasure in his voice. “That’s the waterfront property, right? The one you’ve been working on since summer?”
“Yeah. It took me six months just to get the permits sorted out. The coastal commission is a nightmare. But it’s finally moving forward.
” Hayes looks genuinely pleased, some of the earlier tension leaving his shoulders.
“Construction starts next spring. It’s going to be beautiful when it’s done.
Three stories, all glass on the ocean side, sustainable materials, the whole thing. ”
“I would love to see the renderings,” Callum says.
“I’ll send them to you. And low …” Hayes grimaces, his expression shifting. “I’ve been living on takeout for two weeks because my stove broke and my landlord still hasn’t fixed it. I’ve called him six times. He keeps saying he’ll get to it.”
“Two weeks?” Callum sounds offended. “Hayes, just come eat here. You don’t have to live on takeout. That’s gross.”
“Or at the restaurant,” I find myself saying, then immediately regret speaking out of turn again and drawing attention to myself once again.
But Hayes just smiles at me, warm and genuine. “Thanks, Vivienne. I might actually take you up on that. The pad thai from that place on Fifth is getting old.”
“Why haven’t you just fixed it yourself?” Beckett asks. “It’s a stove.”
“Because I’m not a contractor. I’m an architect. I design things, I don’t build them. There’s a difference.”
“It’s a stove. You literally just turn a wrench. Maybe replace an igniter. It’s not complicated.”
“You’re welcome to come turn a wrench then.”
“I’m busy.”
“Doing what? Surfing?”
“Surfing is literally my job!”
“Alright, alright,” Patrick cuts in, but he’s smiling, clearly having heard this argument before. Probably a hundred times. “Beckett, you’re next.”
Beckett sits up, his earlier grin returning full force. “High: I placed third in the Seaside Invitational last weekend. Won five grand.”
“Nice!” Wesley says, and the earlier tension is completely gone from his voice. You can’t even tell he was angry seconds ago. “That’s huge.”
“That’s great, Beck,” Callum adds. “Especially after losing your sponsor.”
“Yeah.” Beckett’s grin gets wider. “It felt really good to prove I could still compete without their backing. I’m not washed up.”
“You were never washed up,” Patrick says firmly. “They were idiots for dropping you.”
“Agreed,” Hayes adds.
“Very nice,” Patrick continues, pride evident in his voice. “You moving up in the rankings?”
“Slowly. If I can place top five in the next three competitions, I might qualify for the championship circuit.” Beckett looks excited now, his whole face lighting up. “That’s where the real money is. I might get an actual sponsorship and be able make a living instead of just scraping by.”
“You’ll get there,” Wesley says with certainty.
“Low.” Beckett’s grin fades, reality crashing back in. “My board got dinged pretty badly during the competition. I hit a rock on a bad wipeout. Repair is gonna cost at least a thousand bucks.”
“Ouch,” Hayes winces in sympathy.
“Yeah. And I need it fixed before the next comp, which is in two weeks in Santa Cruz.” Beckett shrugs, but I can see the tension creeping back into his shoulders.
“Prize money’s already spoken for. Rent, entry fees for the next three competitions, gas to get there and back.
Might have to dip into what’s left of my savings.
” He runs a hand through his still-damp hair.
“Which I really didn’t want to do, but … ”
“Can you use a different board?” Callum asks.
“Not at this level. The board is custom-fitted to my weight. I’d have to completely relearn my balance and timing.” Beckett’s voice is frustrated now. “It would be like asking you to cook with someone else’s knives. Technically possible but you’d be fighting against muscle memory the whole time.”
Patrick is watching him carefully, and I can see him filing that information away for later.
This is what they do, I realize. They listen. They pay attention. They remember. And then they help without being asked.
“We will discuss that later, Beck. Don’t worry.” Patrick says gently, his tone shifting to something softer. “Iris? You want to go next?”
Iris shifts beside me, pulling her cardigan tighter around herself like armor.
“High.” She thinks for a moment, her fingers playing with the edge of her sleeve. “I finished reading twelve books this month. Beat my personal record by two.”
“Twelve?” I can’t help saying, turning to look at her. “How is that even possible?”
“I don’t sleep much,” she says simply, like chronic insomnia is just a personality trait. “And I read fast.”
“What were you reading?” Patrick asks, genuinely interested.