Page 24 of Hard Rain Coming
“That’s automatic, a security thing.” Benton raised a questioning eyebrow. “Why?”
“I was thinking that maybe I could stay there when I come back.” She blushed. “Feels weird for a woman my age to stay in my old room in my brother’s house.”
Benton slowly nodded. “Of course.” He watched her for a few moments. “You’re coming back for good?”
“Oh, I don’t…” She shrugged. “I don’t know how long. I just know that being here feels right.”
His eyes softened. “I’m glad. It will be good for Nora to have a woman around here. She misses Scarlett.”
“Okay,” she said with a smile. “I’m ready when you are.”
Several hours later, she looked out from her window seat as she flew into Anchorage. The flight had been uneventful, and thankfully, she’d had the row to herself, so there was no need for small talk. Which was fine since her mind was still preoccupied with the life changes she was contemplating.
It didn’t take long to deplane, and less than thirty minutes later, she walked out of the airport and into a cold and rainy Alaskan evening. Pulling her jacket up to her chin with a shiver, Vivian spied her Uber and settled in for the short ride to her condo. A modern showpiece, it was an impressive building made of stone, metal, and glass. With an exclusive address and a price tag in the seven-figure range, it had been a source of pride when she’d bought it three years earlier. Vivian had been the first tenant to move into the new building, and as of today, she was still not on a first-name basis with anyone other than the doorman, Ringo. He smiled as she sailed past.
“Afternoon, Miss Bridgestone. Lovely to see you.” He winked. “It’s been a while.”
“I’m just home for a few days.”
“Well, make sure you stop by for tea before you disappear again.”
“Will do,” she said over her shoulder.
Her home was an open-concept, two-thousand-square-foot apartment on the top floor of the building with a view of the inlet that would take anyone’s breath away. She stepped inside, dropped her purse and small bag on the side table, and took a moment to study her home.
The kitchen was a masterpiece filled with high-end appliances that were rarely used—why bother cooking when Uber Eats was so handy? She spied a bowl of fresh fruit on the large white granite island. Jack, no doubt. The living area boasted tasteful furniture in light gray, cream, and black, expertly arranged by a highly sought-after feng sui expert. The artwork on the wall cost a small fortune, the muted colors and themes meant to be easy on the eyes, not invoke conversation. There were no colorful area rugs made by talented local indigenous folk. There wasn’t a stuffed dead animal in sight or horns on the walls. No cowhide or leather goods or wood beams.
This place was the complete opposite of the Triple B ranch, both in structure and style. It represented a sense of accomplishment, bought with her own cash made from the column and podcast. Not one drop of Bridgestone money had been spent here. In fact, she hadn’t touched the trust fund set up by her mother for quite some time.
This was all Vivian. All this hard surface and bleached-out color. It wasn’t a home, really. It was a showpiece. She wasn’t sure what that said about her, but she didn’t think it was all that good.
Her cell pinged just then, and she pulled it from her coat pocket.
Benton: You get in all right?
She smiled at that, her heart expanding a little, and quickly typed a reply to let him know she was home and all was good. She looked at her reply and added, ‘love, Viv’ and before she could delete it, pressed Send.
Love, Viv? Shit, she was becoming an animal she didn’t recognize. A sentimental fool who typed the word love in a valediction. Was it so wrong?
Whatever. She was in a strange mood, and no good could come from overanalyzing things.
She walked into her bedroom, tore off her clothes, and headed straight into the shower. A half-hour later, she was bundled up in a thick, fluffy housecoat, sipping a hot chocolate as she gazed out at the darkened sky and the lights from the city below. She’d ordered a souvlaki bowl from a local Greek restaurant, so when the doorbell chimed, she figured it was five minutes early.
What she didn’t figure on was the tall, slight man with a head full of snow-white curly hair and a handlebar mustache to match. Droplets of rain glistened on his jacket, and the warmth in his eyes made her heart melt.
“Jack,” she said with a smile. She hugged him, then stepped back to allow him in.
“I come bearing gifts,” he said, holding up a plain brown paper bag.
“My dinner.”
He nodded and handed it over. “I caught the young man heading to the elevator.”
“We can share. It’s always too much.”
“I’m good. I’ve already eaten. But I was hoping to chat. I’ve got some things to tell you.”
“Me too,” she said simply. While Vivian got her dinner ready, Jack made himself a gin and tonic and took a seat on the sofa.