Vienna felt as though she’d been punched in the stomach. She winced and said, “If you have any idea how I can get in touch with her, please tell me. I beg of you. I can’t tell you why, but you’ve got to.”
Erik paused, then began writing on a scrap of paper. “She told me to call her only in case of an emergency, but what the hell. Here’s her number.”
“Thanks!” Vienna exclaimed and rushed home.
She’d called Natasha all that night, but there was no answer. Not even an answering machine. The situation seemed hopeless. And with Derek missing in action, Vienna felt like an asteroid had hit Earth, wiping out civilization and leaving her all alone.
But that wasn’t the case, as she learned a few mornings later, when a persistent knocking woke her. She rose from the sofa and groggily walked to the door, startled to find Natasha on the other side.
“I’m leaving Indiana,” Natasha stated. She was less disheveled than she’d been the last time Vienna had seen her, but her eyes were red and she looked as though she hadn’t slept in days. “This is your last chance to return what’s mine.”
“Of course,” Vienna said. “Come in.” Natasha took a few tentative steps into Vienna’s apartment but made it clear she wasn’t about to sit down. Vienna asked, “How did you know I’d have your dolls?”
“I didn’t. You just told me,” Natasha said.
Vienna nodded and couldn’t help but smile, feeling slightly out of practice with facilitating discussion. She pointed to the pillowcases leaning against the sofa and said, “There they are.”
Natasha’s eyes widened, her expression resembling that of a little girl who’d been presented with a pony: thrilled, but not quite sure she should believe it was really for her.
When she didn’t move, Vienna said, “I want you to know that I’m very sorry for all the trouble I caused.”
Natasha was still staring at the pillowcases. Vienna followed Natasha’s gaze and saw a pair of Dolly legs sticking out from the top of one of them, an arm reaching out of another, as if frantically waving to be rescued.
“I never meant to hurt you, Natasha,” Vienna said, trying again to provoke a response. “You didn’t deserve to be violated like that. You may treat people badly. People I care about. But that doesn’t give me the right to retaliate. I’m sorry.”
Natasha finally looked at Vienna and asked, “You? You did it all?”
“Yes,” Vienna said. “I broke in to your apartment, broke the lock on your…shrine, and took your dolls. It was all me.”
“What about RB?” Natasha said. She sounded confused and completely muddled, as if trying to fight the effects of a narcotic. “I thought it was RB.”
“I don’t know who that is,” Vienna said. As much as it annoyed her that there was something or someone at Mall of the Universe that she’d overlooked, she didn’t want Natasha to continue to fixate on RB. That might provoke her into going after the hapless DeWitt again, which he didn’t deserve. “Would you like some orange juice, Natasha? Coffee?”
Natasha waved away the offer and walked slowly to the sofa, sinking down and extracting a doll from one of the pillowcases. She smoothed the doll’s messy hair and touched its patchwork coat. She looked up at Vienna and said, “This one’s my favorite.”
“Oh, yeah?” Vienna said. She sat down on a nearby chair and asked, “Why’s that?”
“Everyone laughs at her and taunts her. They make fun of her patchwork coat, because it’s made from old clothes and isn’t store-bought. It’s the things they say behind her back that hurt the worst, though.”
“It’s a very pretty coat,” Vienna said. She almost wished she’d taken the time to examine DeWitt’s handiwork while she had the dolls. Then again, the quicker their sinister influence could be removed from her apartment and her life, the better off she’d be.
“Her mother made it,” Natasha said.
“Does her mother love her?” Vienna asked tentatively.
She watched as Natasha struggled to answer, obviously toeing a thin line between fantasy and reality. Her voice wavering, she finally said, “I don’t know.”
“That’s okay,” Vienna said. “Questions without answers are fine. But it’s important to explore the possibilities. It keeps us going. It’s also important to accept other people’s help.”
Natasha stared at her dully and asked, “You just feel guilty, don’t you?”
“No. I want to help you. I want you to get help. If not from me, then from someone,” Vienna pleaded. “You can’t deny that you’ve got problems, Natasha. I don’t want you to hurt anyone else. Or yourself.”
“Fine,” Natasha said. She stood up and walked resolutely to the door. Vienna wasn’t used to someone else announcing that time was up, but she knew the moment had passed and could only hope she’d gotten through. Natasha stopped before she opened the door and said, “I may have misjudged you. I don’t think you’re irresponsible.”
“Thank you,” Vienna said. “You’re not taking your dolls with you?”
“I won’t be needing them anymore.” Natasha held up the doll in her hand. “I’ll keep this one, though, as a reminder.”
“Don’t hold on to the past, Natasha,” Vienna implored. “Deal with it, but put it behind you at some point. You’ve never struck me as someone who’s happy. Find something or some place that truly brings you joy.”
Natasha seemed to think it over before she said, “I will if you will, Miss Talbot.”
That was the end of Natasha. Or, as Vienna preferred to think, it was a beginning for Natasha.
Alone again, Vienna listened to the messages on her machine. She’d been preoccupied trying to sort through the madness of the past few days and set things right again, virtually ignoring the outside world. Unfortunately, in spite of all the juggling she’d done, there was still one ball up in the air. The majority of the messages were from Cart Man.
“Garry,” Vienna said aloud, reminding herself of his real name.
She wasn’t ready to deal with him yet, so she did what her mother had always done. She cleaned. From her empty bedroom to Derek’s, and all points in between. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a large apartment, nor was it dirty, so it didn’t take much time. With a sigh, she plundered her kitchen cabinets and baked, although with no one there to eat her cooking, it would go to waste. She could almost feel her mother’s disapproval, and she took a long bath to wash that sin away. Then she cleaned the bathroom again.
Finally, disgusted with all her avoidance behavior, she poured a glass of wine and sat down at the table, sipping as she took stock of her feelings. She couldn’t deny that she felt somewhat betrayed by Garry. He’d pretended to be something he wasn’t. Hadn’t he? Vienna had never pressed for details about his life. She’d simply enjoyed his company. He was sweet and comforting. She loved spending time with him.
“Oh, man,” she moaned, suddenly pinching the bridge of her nose. She’d slept with someone without knowing his name. She’d never done anything like that before. When had she become so reckless? Davii would approve, she mused. Her eyes fluttered toward the ceiling, and she said, “Oh, Mama. I don’t know who I am anymore.”
Had Cart Man really been so different from the rest of them? Hadn’t Davii pretended to be happy for her sake, when what he really wanted was a life outside Indiana? Or Derek. He’d defiantly clung to a job he hated and wasn’t suited for just to make a point to Hunter. Christian had masked his frustrated artistic needs by staying busy and making over everyone else. And she, Vienna Talbot, had been running in place for two years, trying to convince herself that she was getting away from a past that was, in fact, an important part of who she’d become.
Her doorbell sounded, and she glared at the door, refusing to move. After the third ring, there was an insistent knocking, so she relented and opened the door. She wasn’t surprised to see him there. He’d always known exactly when to show up.
“Come in, Cart Man,” she said, returning to her wine. She took a long dr
ink and pointed to the kitchen. “If you’d like a glass, they’re in the cabinet above the sink. I hate to seem rude, but since you’ve been here before, not to mention inside me, you’re no longer a guest.”
Vienna saw the corners of his mouth twitch before he went into the kitchen for a glass, saying, “I’d never have shown up uninvited, but it’s been hard to keep my eye on all four levels of the mall hoping for a glimpse of you. I’ve been worried. Did you get my messages?”
Vienna suddenly sat up straight in her chair and smacked her forehead. “I’m sorry! Did I call you Cart Man a minute ago? I meant to say Ed. Or is it Garry today?” He filled his glass, topped off hers, then sat down beside her. Vienna put her hand on his arm and said, “Sybil? Are you in there? Are you comfortable in the big chair?”
“Are you finished?” Garry asked.
“No. I think I have one more,” Vienna said. “Was this a big game for you? Bag the black woman, then brag to your friends? String along poor Vienna and play her for a fool, while you’ve got another piece of chicken on the side?”
“Piece of chicken?” Garry asked.
“That honey blond piece of white meat you were with at the Big Bang Benefit,” Vienna clarified. “You know who I mean. Meaty thighs, but probably very dry?”
“Right. Buffy,” Garry said.
“What are you smiling about, Cart Man?” Vienna asked.
“Nothing,” Garry said quickly, putting on a poker face. “Absolutely nothing.”
“I thought not. I’m not gonna be played like that. Who is she?” Vienna sipped her wine again, and when she looked at Garry, poker face intact and lips pressed firmly together, she added, “You may speak now.”
“Her name is Buffy Barlow—”
“Oh, Lord,” Vienna muttered.
“—a pimento heiress—”
“Of course she is.”
“—whom my parents hoped I’d marry for the good of our family business,” he explained. “I came here to get away from all of them. I wanted to step back and have some time on my own to figure out what I wanted to do.”
Vienna stared into his eyes, which didn’t move from hers. Even though his story sounded as implausible as something Derek would invent, she knew he was telling the truth. She understood his need to get away, to take stock and figure out how to move forward with his life. She’d been doing the same thing for two years. She said, “Go on.”
“That’s it,” he said. “The night I spent ‘inside you,’ you told me about your past with Kevin. Maybe I should have told you then. However, not only was it five in the morning, but it would have made Buffy seem as significant to my life as Kevin was to yours. Which would have been inaccurate. I feel nothing for her. She’s a nice girl, but that’s the best I can say about her.”
“Woman,” Vienna corrected.
“Woman,” Garry parroted.
“What about your family?” Vienna asked. “Where does this put you with them?”
Garry thought for a moment before saying, “I’m really not sure. I hope they’ll support me in any decision I make. Unfortunately, I can’t be certain. This was very important to them. Her family is in olives. Mine’s in gin. To them, it makes logical business sense to merge the families. But I don’t love her.”
“Prophet,” Vienna said, recalling Sheree’s words at the Big Bang Benefit. “Seventeen Provinces Gin?” When Garry nodded, she said, “Davii will be calling you Daddy in no time.”
“Who? What?” Garry asked.
“Nothing,” Vienna dismissed. “Your family is one of the largest manufacturers of gin in the world.”
“Third largest, I believe. But I’ve been out of the loop for a while. It could be fourth by now.”
“Right,” Vienna said slowly, trying to take it all in. “You really had me fooled. I thought you were…”
“Just a cart person,” Garry said, finishing her sentence.
“You’re so much more than that,” Vienna said, her reserve softening. “I knew that even before everything went haywire. Before Buffy showed up. But when she did, I thought, ‘Oh great, Vienna. Another guy’s cheating on you, and this time it’s happening before you’ve gotten out of the starting gate.’”
“I wasn’t cheating on you with Buffy,” Garry said firmly. “My parents tracked me down through my credit cards and told Buffy where to find me. She cornered me on the night of the Big Bang Benefit, when I was on my way to meet you, and demanded to know why I’d been avoiding her. I was trying to let her down gently. That’s why I was late.”
“Oh,” Vienna said softly.
“She wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I finally just walked out on her,” Garry said. “I couldn’t bear the idea of you thinking I’d stood you up.”
“I did think that.”
“I know,” Garry said. He took her hands in his and said, “I’m sorry.”
“Okay, so Boobie—”
“Buffy.”
“Right. Buffy. She means nothing to you. She’s out of the picture, and you’ll probably be disinherited,” Vienna clarified.
Garry moved closer to her, kissed her hand, and said, “Will you still love me if I’m penniless?”
“I thought you were penniless when I met you. And you can stop smiling, because that was not an admission of love. I’ve still got questions.”
“I might be out of the gin business, but I’m a very enterprising man.”
“I have no doubt. How did you end up at Mall of the Universe?”
“Ah,” Garry said. “We have my oldest and best friend to thank for that. He lives and works here, so I thought I’d pay him a visit while I was in hiding. Since he manages the Congreve, I figured why not hide in style?”
“Hunter Congreve.”
“Right. But he left for Australia. I considered visiting friends in Montreal, then decided to come here anyway. Hunter was supposed to be gone for only a few weeks, and I intended to wait for him. I knew he and Derek were having problems, and I thought I’d keep tabs on Derek while Hunter was away.”
Vienna drew back slightly and said, “You were spying on Derek?”
“No,” Garry insisted. “I just wanted to be around in case either of them needed me.”
“It’s okay,” Vienna said, patting his hand. “I approve of observation. So you went undercover. What did you learn?”
“That you’re a stunning woman. I don’t know how good a friend I was to Hunter, since the only thing on my mind was you.”
“You really lay it on thick, Cart Man,” Vienna observed.
He leaned in and kissed her. When his hand moved up her arm, Vienna remembered how he held her and the way his hand cradled her neck when they made love. His tongue flicked at her earlobe, and he whispered, “My name is Garry.”
“Okay,” Vienna relented, “Garry.”
He lightly put his hands on her face, looked into her eyes, and said, “But don’t ever stop calling me Cart Man. I kind of like it.”
Vienna laughed. She felt infinitely better. She kissed him quickly, then went into the kitchen. She returned with another bottle of wine and offered Garry the corkscrew. “If you would, sir.”
He jumped from his chair and took the corkscrew from her, but held onto her hand, moving to stand behind her. Nuzzling her neck, he carefully removed the cork while she held the bottle and laughed.
“That tickles!” She took the bottle from him and poured, saying, “I can’t believe Hunter Congreve is your best friend.”
“Why?” Garry asked.
“Because you’re nothing alike,” Vienna stated. “You’re sweet and funny. Kind. He’s cold. Insensitive. And a big old stuffed shirt.”
“How well do you know him?”
“I’ve only met him a couple of times,” Vienna admitted. “None of which were very memorable. I know he’s your friend, but I wish he’d treat Derek better. The guy’s a cad.”
“You know I adore you,” Garry said and kissed her. “I think you’re very intelligent, and I’d never dis
respect you.”
As he folded her into his arms, Vienna said, “But?”
“But you’ve got Hunter all wrong.”
37
Fables of the Reconstruction
Hunter Congreve believed that his place in the world had been determined not by birth, as most people thought, but by one of his earliest memories. At four years old, he’d been mesmerized by a story Nanny Lynn told the Congreve children, as much because of her lilting Irish brogue as the tale of the baby cuckoo. Cuckoos left their eggs in the nests of other birds, and this particular mother cuckoo chose a nest inside the hollow of a tree. The baby cuckoo was hatched and brought up with the young of his foster parents. By the time he was strong enough to fly away, the cuckoo had grown too large to fit through the tree’s opening. For a while, his parents brought him food, but when they were no longer in need of their nest and were distressed by his cries, they finally abandoned him. After a few more mishaps, the tree was severed by a stroke of lightning, and the young cuckoo flew away unharmed.
“Hunter is the cuckoo!” Elizabeth shouted, making the rest of them laugh.
“He’s always screaming his idiot head off,” Randy agreed.
“Hunter’s not like the rest of us,” Dinah said.
“Hunter is not a Congreve,” Peyton pronounced with finality.
Nanny Lynn had been giving them all a scolding when his mother made one of her rare visits to the nursery. In an attempt to keep Peyton from telling her why Hunter was mad, Randy tried to kick him under the nursery table, but it was Nanny Lynn who gave a yelp of pain when Randy’s foot made contact with her shin.
“Hunter,” Mrs. Congreve had said wearily, “don’t abuse the servants. They’re too hard to replace.”
Hunter was left with a number of impressions from the incident. He was annoyed with his mother for not realizing that his leg wasn’t long enough to have reached Nanny Lynn, so he developed a strong dislike of injustice. He liked Nanny Lynn better than his family, so he never learned to be condescending toward people his grandmother called “inferiors.” And though he might have been genetically a Congreve, thanks to this early rejection by his siblings, he wasn’t locked into behaving like one. It was a liberation he never regretted.
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