Twenty Years Later…
Vivien Stone had always believed in magic, in possibilities, in sturdy friendships over popularity. She believed in those things that couldn’t be seen, the psychic threads that joined everyone and everything. Secrets pulsed through those threads like blood through veins, completely invisible to most. But if you knew how to listen, if you knew how to look, you could hear those secrets whispering. It was her grandmother who had taught her how to listen before she’d died. All the women in her family had the ability to some extent.
Vivien’s daughter would have had the ability… if she’d ever had a daughter.
At forty-two, Vivien knew her childbearing ship had sailed. Yes, technically, she had all the baby-making equipment, but that was a door she’d never opened. She liked children, and if life had worked out differently, she might have given motherhood a go.
She glanced at her surroundings and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. What was it about this posh waiting room that made her thoughts run in that direction? After Sam died, she’d hit the snooze button on her biological clock and had rarely thought about it again.
Vivien had been in love precisely one time in her life. Sam Stone. He’d been a beautiful man with a heart big enough to love the entire world, and Vivien had been crazy about him. They would stay up all night on the beach with a campfire, Sam playing guitar while she sang. They had made love in the sand—not advisable unless a person enjoyed the feel of sandpaper between the cheeks, but they’d been young and hadn’t cared. He was her one true love. It was unfair how fast cancer had taken him from her, but even death and time had not changed her feelings for him.
Incidentally, she’d been in love once, but she’d been married twice. Her second husband, Rex Hewitt, had been a marriage of understanding. They’d shared a strong affection between them, but not that mad, passionate, soul-altering love. It made sense at the time. Sam had been dead for six years, and Vivien had been twenty-eight and lonely. Rex had felt he needed a pretty wife to advance his career at the law firm of Jerkface, Expensive, and Spray Tan.
Johansen, Elliot, and Snyder lived up to her nicknames for them, and they had been Rex’s idols. That probably should have been her first clue the union was doomed from the start. Instead, she’d ignored her psychic alarm bells.
Vivien knew going into the marriage that Rex was incapable of loving anyone more than himself. In her young and stupid decision-making process, that is what she’d liked about him. There had been no danger of hurting him.
Again, she freely admitted her decision-making process in her twenties left a lot to be desired.
Too bad that hadn’t worked both ways. Rex might not have been her true love, but catching her husband cheating on her with three women at the same time still stung.
“Viv, so good to see you.” Harry Snyder’s voice drew her from her thoughts. She pushed up from the cushioned black seat and met his extended hand with her own. The orange tint to his skin was beyond unnatural, and she wasn’t sure why a friend hadn’t pulled him aside before now to tell him that carrot wasn’t a flattering human shade.
As his hand clasped hers, she had her answer. This man didn’t have any real friends. He was incapable.
Her psychic senses picked up on his energy and she instantly wanted hand sanitizer. It wouldn’t do anything to get rid of the heebie-jeebies, but it would make her feel better. Ever since she’d found a magical ring left to her by her best friend’s grandmother, Vivien’s abilities had been amplified. Things it would normally take concentration to know were flying into her head at a rate she couldn’t control.
In no reality did she want to know that Harry liked to be humiliated by prostitutes. Or that he secretly liked the sickly-sweet smell of rotting hamburger meat.
Vivien pulled her hand from his and slowly flexed her fingers. “Rex called and asked me to stop by today. Is he in?”
The elevators dinged, and Harry automatically stopped their fake pleasantries as he turned to greet the arriving gentleman. “Loren, good to see you, sir. I’ve been meaning to call you to set up a golf game.”
Vivien had been divorced for seven years, but every time she came to these offices, she felt as if it had been yesterday. Harry hadn’t been so friendly sitting across from her during her divorce. It was only because she’d had pictures of Rex and three highly flexible women that she’d been offered a nice alimony package in exchange for her silence.
The firm frowned upon public moral embarrassments, but instead of firing Rex, they’d closed ranks around him. Vivien knew for a fact they’d had her followed for months. She couldn’t prove it and had no evidence that would stand up in court, but she knew. Just like she knew the office manager had been keeping tabs on her from the moment she’d walked in, even when she pretended not to be paying attention.
Vivien glanced at the office manager talking on the phone where the receptionist should have been. Mrs. Cameron had worked for the firm since the dawn of time. Her matronly attitude and sharp memory had impressed Vivien until she realized one of Mrs. Cameron’s main duties was balancing wives and mistresses… and she didn’t appear to lose any sleep over it. Like some mob numbers guy with two sets of accounting books, Mrs. Cameron kept two sets of calendars for each lawyer in the firm.
Vivien slowly went back to her chair. Before she was fully reseated, Harry turned to her.
“Ready?” Harry asked.
Vivien pushed up mid-sit and nodded. Her heels were uncomfortable, and she hated that she’d been compelled to wear them, but they matched her trendy business suit. The flowing pants and jacket were more fashionable than practical.
Harry stopped at a conference room and held open the door for her to walk in first.
Vivien glanced at the empty table inside and frowned. “Where’s Rex?”
“Why don’t we go in and have a seat?”
Vivien hated the placating tone of his voice. He was one head pat away from calling her a little lady. She bit her tongue and kept from responding. The jackass couldn’t help himself any more than he could end his addiction to huffing spray tanner.
Vivien brushed past him and stood by the walnut conference table. Folders with her name on them had been laid out. A tiny thread of annoyance and dread filled her to see them. “What is this about? Where is Rex? I’m here as a courtesy because he kept leaving me messages begging me to come. I don’t appreciate being made to wait for a half hour.”
“Please have a seat.” Harry gestured to a chair.
Vivien arched a brow and stared at him for a few seconds before placing her purse on the conference table and finally taking a seat. He sat opposite her and slid the folders in front of him. Placing his hand on the stack, he said, “Thank you for coming in, Vivien. We appreciate you making this easier for us.”
We? Us? Unless this man had an imaginary friend, they were the only two in the room.
“Why are we here?” Vivien asked, leaning onto her arms as she met his gaze. The hard wood was chilled from being under the air conditioning vent.
“It has been seven years since your divorce with my client,” Harry said, his tone changing to a more formal cadence.
“I’m aware. I was there.”
“You were only married seven years,” Harry continued.