Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
It’s as if the sun has broken into the office and I feel warmed from the inside out. “Thank you,” I say.
“I’m here to support you,” Tommy says.
“Good man,” Felicity says.
“So let’s figure out what is going to make you happy in this next stage of your career,” Tommy says.
“I don’t have any definitive answers or ideas of what I want,” I say. “I just know what I don’t want.”
“Then we’d better figure it out,” Tommy says. “Melanie, can you get a flip chart brought in, then you and Peter can leave us.” Tommy and Felicity’s assistants immediately jump to their feet and speed out as if they’ve been on standby and have just been switched on.
“Right,” Tommy says. “What’s going to make you happy?”
When he asks the question, the first image that comes to mind is Beau.
“Let’s talk about the song I just wrote,” I say. “It’s called ‘London Love Letter’.”
THIRTY-SIX
Beau
Dad’s clattering around in the kitchen, huffing and puffing as he rolls out pastry and finds a pie dish. I don’t know if it was the drive or if I’m still suffering from Finnish jet lag, but I feel tired. Heavy. Like I can’t be bothered to do anything. I just sit at the kitchen window, my focus flitting between a blustering father and the view out to the garden. The skies are gray. Exactly how my head feels.
“Get us some wine, will you,” he says. “Malbec all round I think.”
I lift myself up from my chair and then realize what he’s said. “You’re offering me your Argentinian Malbec? Without being forced?”
“Careful or I’ll revoke the offer. As it’s the two of us, I think I can spare some.”
None of my brothers are coming up this weekend. It’s just me and Mum and Dad, and Dog of course. I need the peace or the space or…something.
I grab a bottle of Dad’s favorite and take it back to the table, along with two glasses and a bottle opener.
“I can’t believe Vincent bought the vineyard. You think he makes money from that place?”
Dad laughs as he cuts the excess pastry from the pie dish. “Course not.”
“Then why did he buy a vineyard? Was it just an ego thing?”
He glances over at me, a sorrowful look in his eye, then turns back to his half-made pie. “Vincent knows I love the wine there. It was an act of love. A need for him to belong.”
Did I mishear him? “He wants to belong to Argentina? Or wine?” What did I miss? I pull the cork from the bottle and pour two glasses. I’ll see if Mum wants a gin and tonic in a minute.
“No, to us. The Coves. You know when a cat catches a bird and brings the lifeless, feather-shedding thing into the house to show its owner?”
Are we still talking about wine?
“It’s the same thing,” Dad says. “The vineyard was a dead bird—although a lot more welcome. And expensive.”
“I’ve lost you. You’re saying Vincent was showing off his wealth to you?”
“No, he wanted to please me. I can’t make him my son, but I try and treat him like one. I think he thinks it’s conditional. Maybe that’s changed now he has Kate. I hope so.”
Fuck, Dad is right. It makes perfect sense. Vincent was trying to cement his place in the family, except it was completely unnecessary. He’s always been one of us. “Have you ever said anything to him?”
“Actions speak louder than words, son. You should know that.”
“So do you have all our foibles filed away in your head?”
“Yes,” he growls. “That’s our job—me and your mother. We’re your parents.”
Dad starts filling the pastry-lined dish with precooked apple filling.
“I’ve never bought you a vineyard,” I say, my thoughts jumbled in my head.
“No,” he replies. “I try not to hold it against you.” He chuckles to himself, and I smile.
“So what do I do that gives away my deepest insecurity?” I ask.
Dad straightens and glances over at me. “You don’t have a thing like Vincent does. But you try and fill a need in yourself by going off on all these trips. I thought you’d grow out of it, but doesn’t look like that’s going to happen anytime soon.”
“I want to make the most of my life. What’s the matter with that?”
“Absolutely nothing. Just as long as the price you pay isn’t too high. Sometimes I wonder if never being in one place for long means you actually miss out on the things that would fill that gap.”
I don’t say that I’ve been having similar thoughts myself for a while now.
“Dax says I’m a commitment-phobe.”
“How is Vivian?” he asks, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Subtle, Dad. Very subtle.”
“Wasn’t trying to be,” he says, laying the pastry lid on his pie. “I like her. Pretty girl, but also, not how you’d expect a pop star to be. She didn’t put on airs and graces. And she seemed to like you an awful lot.”