“I hadn’t noticed,” I lie, which has apparently become second nature.
One thing I can’t lie about—it hurts to see Tom stooped over Pearl Benson like he can’t take his eyes off her, like he wants to kiss her.
“You hadn’t noticed, my eye. Don’t be fibbing at me. You just went to church.” Carly puts her hands on her hips like she does whenever she’s scolding one of us. Usually, her high-pitched voice and spirited attitude have a way of getting me to laugh, but not tonight.
“I went to church and asked God if I should say yes to Tom’s date,” I blurt, wishing Carly were really my mom and could comfort me. She gasps.
“He asked you out?”
“A million times,” I say.
“Doesn’t he know you can’t say yes?”
“I told him. A million and one times. It’s why he’s mad at me.” Her mouth twists up in a sour expression.
“That’s not fair. You don’t make the rules, Viv. He’s cruel to blame you.”
“It’s not cruel to want someone so badly you’d risk everything. People do it all the time,” I say, thinking of Love Affair with Irene Dunne and Charles Boyer who fall in love and then promise to meet in New York, but Irene gets hit by a taxi on the way to the Empire State Building. Love. I think about my father caring for my mother after she took away his only son and lost her mind. Love.
Carly shakes her head and tsks.
“I know what you mean. When I was your age, I’d have given up my job here in a heartbeat if it meant I could have one more night with my Larry. But look where that would’ve left me—husbandless and jobless.” She puts her hand on my shoulder and squeezes it empathetically as she watches Tom flirt with Pearl across the room. “It doesn’t seem like Tom is your guy anyway, so I guess it’s better you said no all those millions of times.”
“My thoughts exactly,” I say as the song comes to a close. I tear my eyes away from Tom and Pearl and face Carly. “Time for my first set. Everything look okay?”
She looks me over, smooths my hair again, and pinches my cheeks lightly.
“Everything is perfect, as always.” And though it’s Carly saying it, and Carly isn’t more than fifteen years older than me, I pretend she’s my mom and give her hand a squeeze.
As I take the stage, introduced as Vivian Snow, I greet the room and get a round of exploding applause and whistles. And as my voice fills the room, now distilled by the swaying bodies dampening the echoes of the space, I pretend Tom never existed, that my mom is watching in the wings, and my true love is out there somewhere waiting for me, possibly even on top of the Empire State Building.
CHAPTER 15
Elise
Present Day
Streets of Edinburgh
“Tell her to call me immediately,” I grumble through the phone at the third of my mom’s assistants to give me some lame excuse about why she can’t come to the phone. I hate being aggressive with her employees, but I can’t stand the possibility of Mac getting to her first. Someone needs to look out for our family’s best interest, and it’s becoming clearer every day that that someone is not Mac Dorman.
I called my oldest brother, Jimmy, and started to fill him in, but he’s on set in Iceland and had to go almost immediately. “We don’t need more scandal” was the last thing he said before rushing off to makeup. I considered calling my other brothers, but Chris hasn’t talked to Mom in six years since she orchestrated a failed intervention for him in Fiji, and Lawrence is on a cleansing retreat for who knows how long, which really means he’s getting face work done and going on some fad diet at a modern-day fat farm. My dad mumbled something about warning me not to get involved and then sent his love, which didn’t exactly translate through the phone.
It sucks to feel alone.
I dial Hunter’s number again. I left a message earlier when my first call went to voice mail, and I’m disappointed I haven’t heard from him. I need someone sane and on my side to talk me down from my panic. And if I need to pull the plug on this small-town-wedding thing, he should be the first to know.
The phone rings. And rings. And goes to voice mail.
I leave a message.
“Hey, babe. I know we’re supposed to talk tonight, but—like I said, I need you to call me right away. Um . . . I love you. Bye.”
I hang up and sigh, and my warm breath turns to a moisture cloud in the below-freezing air. It’s started to snow, and though my new winter coat keeps my top half warm, my thin jeans are close to soaked through, and my heeled booties are not only pinching my toes but doing a shit job at keeping out the slush on the side of the road.
When I left the cemetery, I had no idea where to go. Part of me felt like running, sure that one of the black production SUVs would be on my tail immediately. But after I took several evasive turns and called every one of my mom’s phone numbers and assistants without luck, the spire of Holy Trinity pierced the skyline above the houses surrounding me. So I’m heading there.
I text and walk, sending a message to Farrah, my assistant, asking her to keep working on connecting with someone from my mom’s team.
When I find myself at the bottom of the hill where the church perches, my fingers are throbbing from the cold, and my feet are so numb that I can’t imagine what kind of aches and pains I’ll have as they thaw.
I climb the snow-dusted steps; the white layer is thin where they’ve been shoveled very recently. I leave my footprints behind to be filled in by the peaceful but rapid descent of the late winter storm.
Reaching the door, I test the handle and find it unlocked. I’ll slip inside and wait for my mom’s call and hopefully avoid catching the attention of either priest.
The door swings open with a squeal. It echoes through the shadowy, empty entry. The only light comes from the stained-glass windows. The rope connected to the belfry is tied up to the right of the entry, undisturbed. I wonder what it sounds like, though I’m not tempted to take a pull and find out. When the door closes, the bowels of the church turn eerie. My footsteps echo as I walk down the carpeted aisle, sidestepping the antique vent in the middle of my path.
In the dark like this, I can almost believe I’ve stepped into a holy place. The giant cross above the altar appears to float, and I stop at a row of pews in the middle of the hall, intimidated by its tremendous presence. The stillness and dimness create a feeling of anonymity, and despite my frozen hands and damp hair, I settle into a pew and lean back with my eyes closed.