Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
KOR
The ride to town was surprisingly enjoyable. I turned on the radio to an oldies rock station—the kind of music my dad had loved—and Vivienne apparently loved too. We sang along to a couple of Eagles’ tunes, and I couldn’t help noticing what a beautiful voice she had.
Goddess of the Moon—was there anything I didn’t find attractive about this woman?
I had to stop it, I told myself. I couldn’t be attracted to a Moon Widow. But I kept catching myself looking at her from the corner of my eye. She was so pretty when she smiled…and when she didn’t smile…and all the time, really. I literally couldn’t take my eyes off her, though I swear I tried.
At last we came off the twisty backwoods roads and got into the town limits. Blackridge was a tiny hamlet of only two thousand people, if the city limits sign was to be believed, and I believed it, especially when I saw the town.
It was small and picturesque—the kind of spot you’d stop on your honeymoon to get memorable pictures. And being surrounded by the Appalachian Mountains meant it was full of natural beauty.
Yet, the people I saw on the street as I drove the Rolls Royce Silver Ghost slowly through the common area didn’t look happy. They shot me mistrustful glances and several of them pointed and whispered when they looked at Vivienne.
She kept her head held high and I noticed that a rigid expression had taken over her previously animated features. She looked calm and serene on the outside, but I thought I saw a trapped expression, hiding far back in her gold-ringed eyes.
I found a place to park in a small lot between the grocery store—Bowman’s Grocery—and the post office. Vivienne had told me she needed to pick up a package she’d ordered and a few things for dinner.
I hurried around the front of the car to open her door and watched with admiration as she emerged, looking like a queen. There was an innate elegance in her—a grace you don’t often see in people these days.
“My Lady,” I said, only half joking and offered her my arm.
After a moment of hesitation—she took it and gave me that shy smile I was beginning to love. The one that said she wasn’t quite sure if she ought to be smiling at all, but she wanted to anyway.
We walked through the lot and Vivienne said she wanted to visit the post office first.
“As my Lady wishes,” I said gravely, still continuing my display of chivalry and she giggled and put a hand over her mouth.
I escorted her into the Post Office—a tiny building with a wall of PO boxes on one side—and we stood in line behind an old man mailing a package to his grandson in Peru.
This was a lengthy transaction, and I had time to notice that the people at the counter were looking at us—well, mostly looking at Vivienne. It was two women, one with gray hair in curls and the other with her blonde hair in a businesslike ponytail.
The two of them were staring at Vivienne in a very unfriendly way. It made me wonder if she had offended them somehow. They kept looking at her and then whispering to each other while the single male employee kept helping the old man figure out the correct postage for Peru.
Finally, I’d had enough. The two women didn’t seem to be doing anything at all but gossiping—meanwhile Vivienne was waiting patiently, seemingly oblivious to the way she was getting talked about.
“Excuse me,” I said, raising my voice and looking directly at them. “Could one of you ladies please help Lady Vivienne? She’s picking up a few things she ordered online.”
Their eyes flew wide in surprise, and I guessed that they weren’t used to people asking them to actually do their job. But after a moment, the woman with the blonde ponytail came forward and said, in a grudging tone,
“Packages for the Pack Leader’s wife, you say?”
“Yes, Barbara—thank you,” Vivienne said graciously, stepping up to the long counter.
“Well, let me see. I don’t know if there’s anything for you at all,” Barbara said, frowning.
“There should be—I got a notice that the new clothes I ordered were in,” Vivienne said politely.
“Oh, new clothes, is it?” the other woman sneered. “Guess you can’t wait to start living it up now that poor Pack Master Carter is gone.”
Vivienne bowed her head, two spots of color blooming on her cheeks.
“I never…I just needed some new summer dresses,” she said in a low voice.
It struck me that she was used to being talked to like this or why else would she put up with it? Maybe Uncle Carter hadn’t allowed her to talk back if the people of the Pack insulted her.
Well, there was no one stopping me from speaking up.
“Why would you say that?” I demanded, staring directly at the blonde woman. “The Lady Vivienne is a grieving widow. Why would you assume she ordered new clothes to celebrate the fact that her husband died?”
The woman looked taken aback. Her eyes went wide, and her face went pale.
“I…I never said…” she began.
“You implied it,” I shot back. “Lady Vivienne was a faithful wife to your old Pack Leader for twenty years. Please treat her with the respect that she deserves.”
“I…I…” Barbara clearly couldn’t think how to respond. But the other woman—the one with the gray curls—suddenly hurried up to the counter with an armful of packages.
“Here you are, Mr…?”
“I’m Korwyn Jamison, nephew of Carter Jamison,” I said, though I was fairly sure she knew who I was. In a town this small, the incident at the old Pack Leader’s funeral the night before would be front page news.
“Ah yes. Well, here are Ms. Vivienne’s packages, Mr. Jamison,” she said, pushing the packages over the counter to us. “Thank you for coming in today.”
“Thank you, Ellen,” Vivienne echoed, nodding graciously.
I gathered the packages for her because, as my mom used to say, a gentleman doesn’t let a lady carry things when he can help, and we left the post office.
Though I couldn’t see them, I could hear the whispers of the two women.
“Getting too big for her britches,” one of them hissed.
“Always so high and mighty—like she’s better than us,” the other replied.
I frowned, wondering if Vivienne had heard too. Probably—she had Were hearing just like I did. But she didn’t turn and confront either of the women. Her chin went up and the cool, calm expression came over her face again.
That’s her armor, I thought, watching her transform. The only defense she has against those people.
It was a shame they didn’t know her the way I was beginning to.
Vivienne was anything but cold and uncaring—I had seen her true self when she cried in my arms that morning.
She was hurting inside, and I wasn’t completely convinced that all of her pain was coming from the past. There seemed to be something bothering her, though she hadn’t told me what it was.
She doesn’t have to tell you anything—it’s not your business, I told myself sharply. But I couldn’t help feeling worried about her, just the same. What was the secret anxiety she was harboring?
“Let me just put these in the car and I’ll meet you in the grocery store,” I told her, once we were out of the Post Office.
“Oh, do you want any help?” she asked, frowning a little. “I forgot how much I ordered,” she added, in a tone of confession.
“It’s fine—I’ve got it,” I assured her. “Go on—I’ll meet you in the produce aisle in the East Wing.”
She smiled at our shared joke and nodded before heading in the opposite direction.
I watched her go—I couldn’t seem to help myself. I just couldn’t keep my eyes off her.
I had no idea how much of a problem that was going to be in the near future.