2 Yule Be the Death of Me (13 page)

“You look
terrible.” Vivienne observed. “Why don’t we go sit down and have some tea?”

Nathaniel
sighed and looked at her. “You don’t have an easy answer, do you?

She shook her
head. “Not yet. But I don’t believe a word of that stupid note.”

“Gossip
travels fast Vivienne.” Nathaniel led her toward the kitchen area near the back
of the store. “We’ll probably be out of business by week’s end.”

“I don’t think
so.” Vivienne countered as they stepped into the kitchen. “We’re going to sit
down and figure this out.”

Tristan
climbed down the back kitchen stairs and paused at the landing. Normally the
dapper dresser, this morning she was shocked to find him wearing only a pair of
red flannel boxers and a simple white tee shirt. “Vivienne?”

“Hi Tristan.”
Vivienne sat down at the small farmer’s table. “I know you’ve had a rough
morning.”

“That’s the
understatement of the year.” He quipped back with much less zeal than she was
used to.

“What did the
paper say?” Nathaniel asked as he filled a kettle with water from the deep
marble sink and placed it on the gas burner stovetop.

“It didn’t
come from them.” Tristan replied.

“Of course it
did. It was in every paper around town this morning.” Nathaniel snapped.

Vivienne could
sense an argument ready to erupt. “It’s possible someone slipped them into the
newspapers on the delivery truck or perhaps in some of the bundles that were
dropped off at the carrier’s homes during the night.”

Nathaniel’s
face flushed red. “Whoever this is certainly has an ax to grind with a lot of
the folks in this town.”

“But why now?”
Tristan asked the group. “What are they trying to gain from this?”

“That’s true.”
Vivienne added. “These aren’t blackmail notes asking for hush money. This is
just someone getting some sort of retribution.”

“But who?”
Nathaniel asked as he pulled the steaming kettle off the stovetop. “It has to
be someone who lives here to know the things they know.”

Tristan buried
his face in his hands. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Vivienne
leaned forward at his outburst. “What’s wrong?”

“Tristan,
don’t say it.” Nathaniel’s voice was stern.

“If you’re
holding something back, you need to tell me.” Vivienne replied.

Tristan’s
shoulders began to heave as he started to cry. “I never meant for it to go this
far. I tried to resist his advances, but he kept buying me drinks and before I
knew it I woke up the next morning in the hotel room.”

Nathaniel
tossed his arms up in the air. “Well, now you’ve done it. The whole town is
going to know about that stupid lapse of judgment that night in New York.”

Vivienne felt
terrible. “So there was an affair?”

“It was a
lapse of good judgment.” Nathaniel corrected her. “An affair is mutual
consent.”

“I’m not
judging you guys here.” Vivienne was quick to speak up. “But I can’t say the
same for the people in town. After all these notes, I think everyone is on
edge.”

Tristan raised
his head up and wiped away most of the remaining tears. “It was one night and
it was months ago.”

Nathaniel sat down
next to him and draped his arm over his shoulders. “We’ve worked through it and
we’re fine.”

“I’m glad to
hear that.” Vivienne felt a bit less awkward. “But the question remains, who
else knew about it?’

Tristan took a
deep cleansing breath and began to pull himself back together. “It was at the
hotel bar in New York. There were people everywhere. It took a half hour just
to get the bartender to get me a drink.”

“Just for the
record, I’ve never had any lapses of judgment on my end.” Nathaniel added as the
telephone rang. “I’ll get it.” He jumped up and dashed off to the living room
to answer the phone. “If it’s those idiots at the newspaper again I’m going to
give them hell and the name of our lawyer.”

Vivienne
thought for a moment and decided to see for herself what had really happened.
She had a gift. Magic was her ally. As Nana Mary had instructed her, she needed
to use it more often to control it better. The first few times she had tried
it, she was merely a passive observer. But, there was much more to the power
which would prove itself to be more exciting than she ever could have dreamed
for. Now, she was starting to learn how to interact with the memories. Ask
questions and make conversation that perhaps didn’t happen in the original
memory. Granted, if she took the memory too far astray the person’s
sub-conscious would ‘hiccup’, as Nana Mary described, and kick her out which
would end the spell rather abruptly.

She couldn’t
fully understand how she was able to step beyond the memory. She assumed that
it was simply a matter of taking in all of the sensory details the mind
recorded during a memory. Side conversations, pictures hanging on the walls,
what the license plate number was on the car that left the scene. It seemed
similar to how a hypnotist could coax vivid recollections out of willing
subjects for police investigations. Still, magic was able to skirt the rules
and it rarely had a logical answer. It just happened. She wondered if perhaps
her gift was intertwined with time
travel?
Was she in
fact moving into the past and poking around? Could she alter what had happened?
Her
grimoire
at home had the answers inside the musty
pages, but it would only reveal them when it knew she was ready to take the
next step. For now, it was all based on faith.

  There
was no better time or place to give her spell work a try. She reached out her
hands. “If there’s anything I can do to help you guys, you know I will.”

Tristan
reached back and clasped hands with her. “Thank you.”

There was a
tingle of energy that zapped her, much like an unexpected static shock during
the dry months of winter. She allowed the magical ability to transport herself
into his memory work slowly. The room grew dark and swirled into blackness.
When she could see again, there were lights everywhere. Bright lights, clanging
of glasses, and loud conversation. She found herself at the hotel bar the very
night Tristan made his mistake.

“What can I
get you?” A handsome blonde man asked from across the illuminated bar top.

“A 7 and 7
please.” Vivienne answered without thinking. The words just slipped out of her
mouth.

“You got it.”
The bartender dashed away to make the drink. As he moved, Vivienne could see
her reflection in the mirror. She was inside Tristan’s body, yet she felt free
to break free from the sequence of events that his memory recorded. Nana Mary
had told her that the power would change and evolve the more she used it. It
was an exhilarating yet terrifying feeling not to know where this would lead.

“I thought a
handsome guy like you would be more creative than that?” A smooth tenor voice
spoke from her left side.

Vivienne
turned to see who it was. “I beg your pardon?”

The man was
athletic in build, dressed in an expensive looking business suit that could
have placed him as a hot-shot executive in any of the offices in Manhattan. His
skin tone was a slight orange color that revealed itself as a possible salon
spray tan. His dark black hair was slicked back and glossy, reflecting the
lights from around the bar area. “I said I expected a hot guy like you to be
more adventurous when it came to ordering drinks.”

“Oh.” Vivienne
felt herself blush. “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

The handsome
executive winked at him. “I can fix that.” He snapped his fingers and the
bartender practically leapt to his call. “Cancel that previous order and get
this handsome guy the house special and another for me.”

“How do you
know I’ll like it?” Vivienne played along.

“Because it’s
like me. A little sweet, a little sour.” The handsome executive pushed his bar
stool closer to Vivienne. “But it goes down nice and easy.”

She had to
refrain from cringing at the horrible pickup line. “I guess I’ll try it.” She
had always wondered how the gay bar scene differed from the heterosexual one.
It turned out, they were both filled with lame pickup lines and promises that
rarely lived up to their initial sell.

“I just
realized I never introduced myself. I’m Robert.” He offered his right hand.

“Viv…”
Vivienne stopped just before she made the mistake. “Very nice to meet you. I’m
Tristan.”

“That’s a sexy
name.” Robert moved a little closer as the bartender set down two drinks that
were electric-blue in color.

Vivienne
stared at the highball glass. “Thank you.”

“So where are
you from, Tristan?”

“A little town
upstate. You’ve probably never heard of it.”

“Try me.”

      
She took a sip and nearly spit it out in surprise. It was potent. “Wow.” She
reacted. “This stuff should be fueling rockets for NASA.”

“You’re
adorable.” Robert raised his matching glass and downed a big gulp. “So where
did you say you were from?”

“Cayuga Cove.”
Vivienne felt the burn of the alcohol as it slid down her throat.

“Get out.”
Robert slapped his hand on the bar. “I know that place.”

“You’re kidding?”

He shook his
head. “My great-grandfather had a summer home way back in the olden days.”

“In Cayuga
Cove?” Vivienne was intrigued.

“Yeah, it’s on
the Eastern shore of Cayuga lake.”

“I’ll be
damned.” Vivienne had a ton of questions swirling in her mind. “So, when was
the last time you were there?”

“About a year
ago.” Robert answered. “My family let the place go because no one wanted to
move from the city to take care of it.”

“Who is your
family?”

“Don’t judge
me now.” Robert smiled at her as he took a drink.

“What do you
mean?”

“The
Rothwells
.” Robert answered.

“Your
great-grandfather was Edgar
Rothwell
?”

“I said don’t
judge.” Robert smiled at her and took another large drink. “You’re not a
journalist looking for another angle on that golden parachute scandal that my
father cooked up, are you?

“No. I sell
antiques.” Vivienne assured him.

“Good. Because
I’m not like the rest of my family. I don’t screw employees out of their
retirement funds and bankrupt the place when my promises fail to deliver the
results.”

“Do you happen
to know Samantha Charles?” Vivienne asked.

“The hotel
heiress? We’re both seasoned veterans of the charity fundraising circuit here
in the city.” Robert winked again. “Still, I’m old money and she is new. The
two worlds never mix.” He took another generous sip of his drink.

“I wouldn’t
know.” Vivienne added. “I grew up without a trust fund.”

Robert
frowned. “Oh man. Now we’re getting to the money part and this is where I start
to get bored.”

“I’m sorry.”
Vivienne took another small sip from her drink. “I’ve never dated anyone with
significant wealth before.”

“So we’re
dating?

Vivienne
shrugged. “I don’t remember offering to do that.”

Robert
laughed, one of those drunk and getting drunker kind of laughs that seemed to
go on for minutes. “You’re so adorable.”

There was a
light from a cell phone on the bar in front of Vivienne. The phone vibrated and
inched closer to her drink. She picked it up and saw Nathaniel’s name on the
caller display.

“Who’s that
calling you?” Robert asked.

“My husband.”
She spoke without thinking.

Robert raised
an eyebrow. “Does he let you play when you come into the city?”

“I don’t
know.” Vivienne replied as the call went to voice mail.

Robert put his
arm around her shoulders and spoke into her ear. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

“Are you
seeing someone?” Vivienne asked, feeling rather uncomfortable at the turn the
conversation was taking.

“I have a
girl, but she’s not here tonight.” He winked.

“Aren’t you
gay?” She asked.

“Oh, man.
Enough with labels. You’re starting to sounds like my parents and that’s not a
good thing.” He pulled his arm off her and finished his drink. “If you’re
looking for a quote try this one on for size. Robert Edward
Rothwell
thinks that labels are best left for clothes.” His eyes were slightly unfocused
as he made ‘air quotes’ with his hands. “That should sell a few thousand
copies.”

“I’m not a
journalist.” Vivienne repeated.

I’m an
antiques dealer from Cayuga Cove.”

“And I’ve got
an enormous suite here at the hotel all to myself.” Robert giggled a little.
“It’s got a hot tub that seats eight.”

“Sounds like
you could fit my hotel room in the hot tub.” Vivienne quipped.

“Why don’t we
go upstairs and see?”

“I don’t know
if that’s such a good idea.”

Robert snapped
his fingers as the bartender set another drink down in front of them. “It will
be after you finish this.” He smiled.

Vivienne felt
dizzy as Tristan’s memory began to fight back against her probing questions.
She had gone too far and his mind was about to ‘hiccup’ and spew her out. “I
think I better go back to my room and call my husband back.” The room began to
spin. “Thanks for the drink.” Everything went dark as Tristan’s mind ejected
her.

She found
herself back inside the kitchen of Carriage House Antiques a few moments later.

“Hey, can you
hear me? You sort of faded out there for a second.” Tristan snapped his fingers
in front of her face.

“I’m sorry.”
She found it was becoming easier to return back to the present without creating
a scene. “My blood sugar has been all kinds of wacky this month.” She lied.
“Did I pass out?”

“Just for ten
or fifteen seconds.” Tristan answered. “It was like you were in a trance or
something, your eyes never closed.” He got up from the table and reached for a
plate of blueberry muffins that was on the counter near the sink. “You better
eat something.”