Golden Girl - Elin Hilderbrand Page 0,72

had two good friends, Stephanie and Gina, whom she sometimes talked about but wasn’t in touch with, as far as Willa knew.

You’re a fraud, Brett Caspian, Willa thinks.

And yet.

She writes his number down, because what if he’s not a fraud, what if he opens a door to a part of her mother’s life that Willa knew nothing about? What if Willa learns about a secret Vivi kept until her death? This is exactly like something that would happen in one of her mother’s novels. The line between real life and fiction is becoming blurry indeed.

Even dialing the numbers feels illicit. Willa reminds herself that Savannah asked her to check this guy out and that she’s merely doing her due diligence with the Vivian Howe Memorial Facebook page.

He doesn’t answer and his voice mail is an automated recording. She leaves a message: “My name is Willa Bonham, I’m Vivian Howe’s daughter, I saw your Facebook message and I’m calling you as requested.”

She hangs up and not two seconds later, her phone rings with Brett Caspian’s number on the caller ID.

Oh, boy. Willa stares at it, one hand holding the phone, one hand resting on her belly.

“Hello?” she says.

“Hello, this is Brett Caspian. You just called?”

“Yes,” Willa says. The voice is appealing, she decides, strong and a little raspy. “My name is Willa. I’m Vivi Howe’s daughter.”

“Oh, man,” Brett says. He emits a whistling breath. “I can’t believe this. I’m…well, first off, I’m sorry about your mom.”

“Thank you,” Willa says, because although this feels awkward, it’s what one is supposed to say.

“So, listen…I’m not even sure where to start. I went to high school with Vivi.”

“And where was that?” Willa asks.

There’s a hesitation. “Uh…Parma High School? In Parma, Ohio? You do know that’s where your mother went to high school?”

Willa laughs. “Yes, I know. I just wanted to make sure that you knew. Because she never mentioned a boyfriend in high school. She said she was a nerd.”

Brett chuckles at this. “Yeah, she was a nerd. She was just about the most beautiful nerd you’ve ever seen, always with her nose in a book or raising her hand with the right answer.”

“And you were her boyfriend?”

“Senior year, yes. That was the year her father died.”

Okay, Willa thinks, this guy is for real. Her legs tingle and suddenly, she has to pee. “I’m sorry, but she didn’t tell me about you.” Why was that? Willa wonders. Did she not want JP to be jealous? Or was it for some other reason?

“Things got complicated at the end and the breakup was hard on both of us. She went off to Duke and I moved to LA and I never saw her again. I live in Knoxville, Tennessee, now. I’m a hotel manager and I play a little guitar, but I’m not into all that Facebook stuff or social media, so I haven’t kept in touch with anyone from home except the guys in my old band. Those guys held a big grudge against Vivi for reasons I can tell you about later, and we never bring her name up. Except last week, one of the guys, Roy, said he heard through his sister that Vivi had died. He told me she was a writer. So I looked her up and I saw her new book was called Golden Girl, which was the name of my song.”

“Your song.”

“The one I wrote in high school for Vivi. I just finished the book last night and, wow, so much of what she wrote was based on what really happened with us.”

“I haven’t read the book yet,” Willa admits.

“I was hoping I could talk to you about it.”

Isn’t that what we’re doing now? Willa wonders.

“I have vacation time saved up so I was thinking about driving up there, maybe week after next? I’ll stay in Hyannis at the Holiday Inn, that’s the company I work for. Then I’ll take the ferry over to meet you.”

“You want to come here?” Willa says. “To Nantucket?”

“I have pictures of your mom and me,” Brett says. “I pulled them up from the depths of my trunk and…we look so young. I’d like to show them to you.”

Willa isn’t sure what to say to this guy. He seems legit, and maybe he was Vivi’s boyfriend in high school in Parma, Ohio. It was a time in her life that Vivi almost never talked about. It was as though Vivi’s personal history started her first week at Duke, when she met Savannah. Everything before

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