She propped a pillow behind her back and crossed her bare feet on top of the coffee table. Vivian had had three husbands after Sawyer Templeton, but she’d never taken their names. Only Sawyer’s. “And?”
“And handsome. And...he had a soft heart.” Vivian’s pearls clicked softly between her fretting fingers. “Too soft, I always thought. Particularly for a young man inheriting a steel empire. I thought I was the strong one.”
“Women often are,” Hayley murmured.
“I wasn’t strong, though. I was just typical. A product of a privileged life. Which I’d had, even though the Archers were nothing like the Templetons.” Vivian suddenly pinned her with a look. “Times were different then, Hayley. When I was a young woman. You understand that, don’t you? Reputations. Scandals. They could ruin a person back then.”
“Some might say they can ruin a person now. But, yes, I understand what you’re saying.” She just wished her grandmother would be more specific about what had threatened to ruin Sawyer Templeton. It was hard to untie a knot if all you knew was the general length of the rope.
“There were expectations of people like your grandfather. And his father before him. There were things one did. And things that one simply did not do. People of our class didn’t mix with...others.” Vivian made a face. “And yes, I know how that sounds. But back then...” Her voice trailed off and she looked away. “I was nineteen when I married Sawyer,” she said after a moment. “He was four years older. I believed that the only thing of importance was fulfilling all of those expectations. But Sawyer... Oh, he was just different. He didn’t care what other people thought. So it was up to me to care.”
“Vivian,” Hayley prompted gently. “You were a young woman in a different time. Nobody here is judging you for anything, except you.”
The pearl clicking got faster. “Now I’m paying the price.”
“My father and Uncle David will come around.” Saying the words helped to remind Hayley, too, that there was always hope they would at least attempt some sort of reconciliation with their estranged mother.
Vivian’s expression was tight. “They wouldn’t accept the photograph albums I put together as Christmas gifts. The albums you said would have some impact.”
“And I still think it would make an impression that you’d preserved so many memories from their childhoods.” She’d put the carefully wrapped boxes containing the albums in her closet so Vivian wouldn’t be constantly reminded of them.
“Yet Carter wouldn’t even come here on Christmas Eve to see his own daughter because I was here,” Vivian said. “He’s more like me than he ever was like his father. Unforgiving to the end.”
“Well, the end isn’t here yet,” Hayley countered immediately. “I’ll try talking to Dad again. Remember, you’ve only been in Wyoming for six months. That’s not a lot of time, considering how long it’s been since he and Uncle David both chose to leave Pennsylvania.”
Vivian finally released her pearls, rested her head against the couch cushion, closed her eyes and sighed. “Thatcher left first,” she murmured. “My firstborn. He broke my heart. And then he died in that horrible skiing accident and I never had a chance to tell him I loved him.”
“Vivian.” Hayley moved from her chair to sit beside her grandmother and gently took her beringed hand in hers. “You will still have time to tell your family that you love them.”
Vivian slowly opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. “I’m an old woman. I don’t have forever to wait, dear. I’m closer to the end than I want to think about.”
Hayley wasn’t going to deny the basic fact of her grandmother’s age. “The same thing can be said of any of us. Life is never a given—not for anyone, regardless of their age. The fact that Thatcher died when he was a young man is proof of that. So the point is to act while you can.
“Maybe we haven’t gotten through to my father and Uncle David yet. But please don’t let that stop you from getting out there and living your life right now. You have to stop hiding yourself here in my house. I know how different Weaver is from what you’re used to. But I can count on one hand the number of times you’ve gotten out and about with me. The only thing you do is walk around the block each morning. Do you stop to say hello to anyone?”
“You don’t understand.”
Hayley squeezed Vivian’s hand. “Then help me understand.”
“You’re very much like my dear Arthur,” Vivian murmured.
Hayley knew that Arthur Finley had been the last of her grandmother’s four husbands. That before his death, he’d been the one to encourage her to mend the long-standing rift between her and her sons. “I would have liked to have known him. I’d like to think my dad and Uncle David would have, too.”
“They would have just accused me of causing his death, too,” Vivian said tiredly. She finally looked at Hayley. “That’s what they always blamed me for. Driving Sawyer to his suicide.”
Hayley absorbed that, trying not to show her shock.
Not once had she ever heard her father say anything about the death of his father. “Arthur died of cancer. You told me that months ago. They can’t very well blame that on you. And suicide is—”
“Sawyer did not commit suicide,” Vivian said flatly. “He died in an automobile accident when your father was only a baby. Sawyer was terribly upset with me as usual, but he never would have abandoned his children, no matter what they grew up to believe.”
“How would they have even gotten the idea of suicide?”
“Because Thatcher was convinced. When he was sixteen, he found the accident report. It had never been made public. The benefits of wealth and influence.” The soft lines in her face seemed even more prominent. “Sawyer’s car ran off an embankment. The cause behind that was never established. But Thatcher drew his own youthful conclusions.”
Vivian had once run through her litany of husbands and Hayley quickly calculated. “Was this before or after your second husband died?”
“Just after Theodore died.” Vivian’s lips twisted. “Thatcher was hardly upset about that. He’d never gotten along with Theodore and certainly didn’t grieve his death. I can’t blame him for that, though. I hardly got along with Theodore. Our marriage was mostly convenience. I had three young sons. I needed a husband to help raise them, and he was suitable. And he liked marrying into the Templeton money.”
“Whether Thatcher liked him or not, Theodore was still a father figure for your sons. Grieving or not, his death undoubtedly affected Thatcher, too. As well as his brothers. Teen years are impressionable ones.”
Vivian didn’t respond to that, instead choosing to return to the subject of Jane and Casey’s wedding. “You should have a proper date for the wedding tomorrow.”
“I have a proper date.” Hayley lifted Vivian’s hand and lightly kissed the back of it. Because she’d learned more details about Vivian’s life when her dad was a child in the past ten minutes than in the entirety of her grandmother’s six-month stay, Hayley knew better than to push Vivian where she didn’t yet want to go. So she rose to her feet and gave her grandmother a steady look. “And I’m expecting her not to stand me up. For one thing, I would very much like a chance to introduce her to more of my friends.” She hesitated, and then dangled some actual bait. “One in particular.”
Vivian eyed her. “The young man who surprised you with lunch even after you’d cancelled your dinner date?”
Hayley nodded. She was too adult to acknowledge the giddy curl inside her, but that didn’t stop it from happening. “Seth knows Casey from Cee-Vid. He’ll be at the wedding.” And the reception, though she didn’t bring herself to offer up that piece of information. A comment about saving a dance was one thing. Actually having it come to pass was another. “If you really do want to meet him, it will be a good opportunity.”
Vivian pursed her lips. “You’r
e pretty good at maneuvering people where you want them.”
Hayley’s eyebrows shot up and she let out a dismissive laugh. “If only, Vivian. I would be having a much easier time not just with my family, but with some of my patients.” She leaned over and picked up her discarded shoes. “The wedding’s not until four. I’ll be coming and going for most of the morning, but I’ll be here to get you at three. Agreed?”
Vivian let out a put-upon sigh. “Fine.” She slowly pushed herself off the couch and the diamonds on her hand winked in the lamplight. “I know it wouldn’t be white tie at that hour, but will a cocktail dress suffice?”
Hayley nearly chewed her tongue in half to keep from laughing because her grandmother was obviously serious. “Um, sure,” she managed. If Vivian had spent more time getting to know some people around town, she never would have had to ask the question. Around Weaver, jeans were de rigueur, even at a wedding. “But anything you would wear to church would be just fine, too,” she assured her grandmother. Frankly, the clothes that Vivian wore every day around the house were more formal than what most of the local guests would undoubtedly be wearing. “You’re going to be fine, no matter what, Vivian. Trust me.”
“And what about you? Did you finally get your dress from the seamstress?”
“Isabella Clay,” Hayley confirmed. Casey’s cousin-in-law had made the dresses for the wedding party, including the bride’s. “I managed to get over to her place this afternoon to pick it up.”
“And?”
“It’s lovely.” Isabella had once been a costume designer for a ballet company in New York. And Hayley had gotten to know her when she’d been counseling her now-adopted son, Murphy. “Even you will approve. Come on.” She took her grandmother’s hand. “I’ll show you. And you can help me decide what I need to do with my hair.”
The pleasure on Vivian’s face was worth putting off going to bed for a little while longer.
* * *
Seth stood outside the Weaver Community Church, watching people file through the open front door to attend Casey and Jane’s wedding. The last time he’d worn a tie had been with his dress uniform before he’d left the rangers, and the pale silver one he wore now felt confining. He kept wanting to tug it loose, but a lifetime of self-discipline kept him from doing so.
The wedding was supposed to start at four and it was nearly that now. He and Casey had spent a lot of long hours together inside the cavernous communications center hidden away in the center of the Cee-Vid building where they watched over the safety of Hollins-Winword agents and assets all around the world. Casey had invited him to the wedding, so Seth had agreed. But he couldn’t say he’d had any burning desire to actually go rub elbows with the couple.
No. The draw now wasn’t his buddy the groom or the bride. It was the maid of honor. Which in turn was the reason why going inside the church was now a problem.
He was an invited guest and had a reasonable excuse for being there. But he’d also been essentially warned away from Hayley by his boss.
He’d spent the past four days arguing with himself over that call from Tristan. Assuring himself that his interest in Hayley wasn’t increasing exponentially because of her interactions with McGregor.
He was pretty sure it wasn’t.
But he knew himself. As a ranger, he’d always gone a hundred and ten percent above the call to succeed. Working with Hollins-Winword wasn’t any different. He believed in justice, and at times getting there wasn’t a pretty thing.
Which left just enough room for doubt about his motives that it made his neck itch worse than the damn tie.
Hayley Templeton was an ethical woman. She wasn’t going to tell him anything about what went on in her sessions with any of her patients.
Except she was starting to trust him. Or she never would have had him drop her off at the home of her distressed “friend.”
Still, she wouldn’t tell him anything about what went on in her sessions. Not intentionally.
He muttered an oath that inside the church would probably have had the roof caving in on him and turned around to head back to his truck. He’d had to park down the street because the small lot alongside the church was already overflowing. He yanked the tie loose as he went.
By the time he was driving away, the church doors had been pulled shut. He figured that probably meant that the ceremony was about to begin. Hayley would be occupied. It wasn’t likely that she’d even notice his absence among that crowd, crammed inside and breaking every occupancy limit law there was.
Because Casey was related to practically half the town’s law keepers, Seth doubted there’d be any complaints lodged on that particular score.
He would have stopped at Colbys for a beer, except the place was closed up tight so Jane’s employees could go to the wedding and reception. Ruby’s was closed, too. Not that they served alcohol over there anyway. There were a handful of other places in town he could have gone, but he passed them all by, too, and finally found himself back at Cee-Vid.
Nobody was working at that hour on a Saturday. He made his way unimpeded through the cubicles of the game design floor and back to the security office, where he entered his security code, which allowed entrance to Control through a well-hidden door in the wall. Once inside the communications center, he encountered other Hollins-Winword personnel.
Clay family wedding or not, guardians would always be on watch over Hollins-Winword’s best in the field. He grunted acknowledgment of the handful of preoccupied greetings he received and sat down in his usual seat in front of a bank of computer screens spread across the wall. But he didn’t log into the system. There was no point because, like it or not, his head was still back at the church, imagining Hayley inside.
It was a helluva thing to face the fact that when he was with her, he couldn’t get rid of the thought of work. And when he was at work, he couldn’t get rid of thoughts of her. Maybe the two areas of his life could have coexisted just fine if not for one thing: McGregor’s so-called amnesia.
He pinched the knot in his brow, pushed his chair back and propped his heels on the edge of the console in front of him.
And there, despite the occasional, curious comments he got from the others, he stayed for the next several hours. Until he was certain that there’d be no chance of having that dance he’d told Hayley to save.
* * *
“I haven’t seen pretty boy here.” Sam plopped down on the chair next to Hayley with a flutter of taupe-colored tulle and silk charmeuse and handed her one of the champagne flutes she was carrying. “Weren’t you expecting him?”
Hayley shrugged, trying not to let her disappointment show. “He probably had to work or something.” She sipped the champagne and watched the dancers on the portable floor that had been set up beneath the huge white tent. It didn’t matter that the dinner had been served, the cake cut, the toasts made. Even though the bride and groom had already left the party—as had a good number of guests, including Jane’s sister, who’d been the third bridesmaid—the entire place was still crowded with people celebrating.
There weren’t many locations in Weaver equipped to handle such a sizeable wedding reception, so Jane and Casey had created their own venue on the expansive property just outside of town that was owned by Casey’s sister and brother-in-law. In deference to the evening chill, propane heaters burned in several locations, and they, along with the heat from the guests themselves, were doing an admirable job of keeping the tented area cozy. So cozy that neither Sam nor Hayley had had to use the wraps that Isabella had created to go with their tea-length gowns.
“Sorry,” Sam murmured quietly. “I know you were looking forward to seeing him, Hay.”
“I was.” There was no point in pretending otherwise. “But things happen. I’m sure he had a reason.” She took another small sip of champagne. “I also wish my grandmother would ha
ve come to the reception. Even she would have been impressed with the setup here. Not a single detail’s been missed.”
Sam nodded, looking around the tent’s elegantly appointed interior. “At least Vivian made it to the wedding,” she said. “I saw her sitting next to Sloan and Abby.”
“For a while. I thought she’d be more comfortable sitting with them.” Abby was an old schoolmate of Hayley’s cousin from Braden. She’d recently married Sloan McCray, who worked with Sam at the sheriff’s department. “She just wasn’t comfortable enough to stay very long. She claims she has a headache, but—” She waved her hand. “You know Abby’s a nurse. She and Sloan were kind enough to drive Vivian back home for me. She said Vivian seemed agitated at the church, but once they left, she calmed down and was fine when they dropped her off. I don’t know if the headache is real, or if it’s just another one of Vivian’s excuses. When she first came to town, she wanted to know who everyone was and what they were doing.”
“I remember.” Sam started to prop her ankle on her knee but then thought better of it, tugging with some annoyance at the fluff of skirt billowing out around her slender ankles. “When you introduced us to her at the harvest festival after Halloween last year, she was all about getting clued in to who, what and where. I remember thinking she would fit right into Weaver—even if she does go around wearing fancy clothes—as long as she likes gossip.”
“Of which Weaver has plenty,” Hayley finished. “She was interested at first. But she’s been getting more and more reclusive. Particularly the past few months. We talked a lot last night and I thought we were making progress.”
“You did. She came to the wedding. Criminy. Everyone was there. Even Jane’s ex-husband came.” Sam bumped her shoulder against Hayley’s. “Talk about a hottie. Casey’s a good-looking guy, but Gage Stanton?” Sam fanned herself, smiling wickedly. “I could think of a few wonderfully naughty things to do with him.”
“Tall, dark and handsome does it for you?”
“Tall, rich and temporary does it for me,” Sam countered with a laugh. “Jane says he’s a workaholic and so am I. It’s a match made in hottie heaven.”
One Night in Weaver... Page 7