to speak to a student who’d just come in the door.
“Oh, hi, Melody,” said Helga as they turned to leave.
It took Vivien a moment, but then she remembered the woman from high school. Melody Carlson had been her name back then; Vivien had no idea whether it still was. They hadn’t been friends, but it was a small school, so they’d known each other.
“Oh, hi, Helga. I’m glad to see you here—I wanted to thank you again for helping me with that little fender bender the other day. I was late going to see my daddy up at the assisted living place, and I was just so out of sorts, and— Vivien Savage? Is that you?” Melody removed her sunglasses. “You’ve not changed a bit. Bella mentioned you were coming back to town.”
“Yes, I just bought the old theater—she was my realtor,” Vivien said proudly. “Maybe you can do a stint there someday. I’m trying to keep locals involved as much as possible.” She didn’t remember thinking Melody was all that talented back in high school when she had the lead in every play, but she was part of the community, and Vivien was definitely going to be building relationships with as many people as possible.
“Oh, how sweet of you to think of me. It’s been years since I’ve been onstage,” said Melody, adjusting her yoga mat. “Well, I’d best get in so I can grab a spot in the front—it’s easier for me to see up there. Ta-ta!”
“See you later,” Helga said as they walked out.
“Was she a little…chilly?” Vivien muttered as they walked down the street. “Or did I imagine it?”
“Oh, she’s always like that—kind of brittle. I think it really upset her when she had to put her father in the assisted living home a while back. He was only sixty. She’s nice, though, once you get around her and she relaxes. I’ve been out with her and Bella and some of the others a few times.”
“Maybe I can tag along next time,” Vivien said.
“I’ll let you know,” said Helga.
Although they were both dressed in yoga pants and tank tops, their attire wasn’t a problem for Trib’s, even though it was the fanciest place in the surrounding area. Tourist towns like Wicks Hollow didn’t stand on ceremony, and certainly didn’t require dress codes. Why would they, when their patrons might be coming in from fun in the sun at any time of day, starving and ready to relax—and spend money?
It was barely four o’clock in the afternoon, however, and so the restaurant was in the lull between lunch and the dinner rush, as the tourists were swimming, boating, fishing, shopping, or napping.
“Darling Vivien Leigh!” Trib himself swooped down on them the moment they stepped over the threshold into the restaurant.
He was a neat and fashionably groomed fifty-ish man with hair styled in a modern version of a flat-topped buzzcut. It was salt-and-pepper around the sides and ears, blending into a stark platinum white on the brush top. He wore a closely trimmed, mostly gray goatee and mustache. Today his attire was a summery lime-green shirt with a bowtie of orange and cobalt in Harlequin-style diamonds. His crisp, pleated trousers were probably bespoke, if Vivien knew Trib (and she did), and they were charcoal gray with the faintest of blue pinstripes. He looked, as always, utterly smashing.
“I thought you’d never come in here to see me! It’s been ages, VL,” he went on as he took Vivien’s arm. “Tell me how our dear Frankie is doing, will you? I miss her so.”
“Oh, she’s doing fantastic. She’s working at a very chichi pastry shop in Manhattan—they’re even letting her do her own macarons—and she says her summer internship here was the best thing that ever happened to her.”
“Well, you’ve never steered me wrong with summer internships, darling. All these wannabe chefs—I just love gobbling up their energy during these crazy summer months! And Benjamin is working out just fine—although he’s unequivocally not a pastry chef,” he added in a conspiratorial voice. “I think the best I can expect from him is doing sous work, but that’s just fine with me. He can prep to his heart’s content.” He smiled at them both. “Now, inside or outside today, my lovelies?”
“Outside, in the shade, and Cherry says we need to ask about your secret stash of Sancerre,” Vivien replied.
“Ooh! So it’s one of those kinds of days.” He grinned. “I can’t wait to hear all about it. And Officer Sugar, don’t