Untamed: (Heath & Violet) (Beg For It) (29 page)

I knew she’d invited
me today out of a sense of maternal obligation, more than an
authentic desire to spend time with me. I remembered childhood
parties she’d hosted for hundreds, but since the divorce from my
father she’d become a bit of a recluse. She’d pretty much holed
up with her roses, her hounds and, after a few years, her second
husband Stewart, who brought new meaning to the words stodgy and
boring. She liked things quiet. Kind of like me.

The only problem with
that was neither one of us had a damned thing to say to each other.

“Heath!” Thank God,
like an angel from above my younger sister Gigi entered the room,
bringing levity and conversation with her. She’d always stood out
in this family like a fresh daisy sprung from the frozen earth,
radiant and charming.

“Didn’t know you
were here.” I rose and gave her a hug.

“It’s the start of
trimester break!” She chattered through all of lunch, telling us
about her senior year in college, the internship she was doing, and
how excited she was to head off with friends to the Bahamas for the
rest of her break.

“I’m so sorry about
the crazy exposé that network had planned.” Gigi placed a
delicate, consoling hand on my forearm. “But Nelson’s taken care
of it, hasn’t he?” She looked to my mother, so optimistic and
upbeat. How she’d grown up in this family so unscathed, I didn’t
know. Maybe she had more going on inside of her than she let on. But
to external appearances, she seemed practically perfect in every way.

“Nelson has
successfully managed the situation,” my mother confirmed.

“Yeah?” I’d
figured that the vast Kavanaugh connections and wealth would win the
day, but I hadn’t heard for sure.

“He phoned this
morning,” she explained. “That network—” she spat out the
word as if it were distasteful— “has agreed to cancel its plans.”

Relief poured through
me fast and hot. I took a sip of water. Strangely enough, I felt the
impulse to call Violet and share the good news. It made no sense. I
knew that. She was the reason for the mess in the first place. But
the thought occurred to me nevertheless. I still felt a connection to
her. I guessed it was because I rarely let people in. Once I’d done
it, it was hard to get them out.

Gigi got us through the
remainder of the lunch and even tea afterward. We sat out on the
veranda—who used that word anymore?—surrounded by the birds
chirping and sun shining down on an uncharacteristically warm
winter’s day.

When I could finally
excuse myself without it being too rude, I stood up to go. Gigi gave
me a kiss on the cheek and told me how much she loved seeing me. I
wondered what she thought of us all, a family of pieces that didn’t
quite fit together. But she sailed off upstairs to return to packing
for her vacation, buoyant and unperturbed.

That left just my
mother and me at the front door. She surveyed me with her cool, grey
eyes.

“We’re more alike
than you might think, Heathcliff.” She smiled, though still looked
a bit sad. “We like to keep to ourselves, don’t we?”

I nodded. I hadn’t
thought of it like that before, that she and I were fairly similar in
a way.

“But sometimes its
good to let people in,” she continued. I couldn’t help it. I
tensed up as she spoke. Lectures from her about how I should live my
life really rubbed me the wrong way. But then she added with a sigh,
“It doesn’t have to be me. Just someone. It’s no good to go
through life alone.”

I thanked her for lunch
and climbed into my truck. Advice was so easy to give. Knowing what
to do with it once it was given to you, now that was the real trick.

§

Staying with Ash and
Ana was easier than I ever imagined. They left me to my own devices
more often than not. I didn’t know if it was because Ash understood
me and explained to Ana that was how I liked to roll, or if they were
just really busy. Maybe a combination of both.

As it was, I got some
time on my own in the city, something I hadn’t done…well, ever as
an adult. I hit up museums and galleries, amazed by the work I saw.
You knew the art had to be good when a guy like me struck up
conversations. And I did. I chatted up the owners of a few galleries
and got to meet a few of the artists, themselves, in some of the
smaller venues. There was some cool art being created. I hadn’t
participated at all in the art scene, hadn’t done any schmoozing or
networking. I’d dismissed it all as corporate crap, the type of
thing sellouts did once they were fresh out of ideas and just started
chasing the Benjamins.

But some of the work I
saw? It inspired me. One guy at a shop in Brooklyn had a whole series
of intricately detailed metal sculptures that looked exactly like
trees. Another guy had a series he’d done with spirals, mimicking
the patterns found in seashells and expanding them into giant folds
and curves. That interplay between nature and manmade metal, it
fascinated me. There was a lot I could do in that space, and it
looked like I may have discovered a few people I could do it with.

I was feeling the best
I had since I’d left Vermont two weeks ago when I joined my oldest
brother, Colton, for dinner. Good thing, too, because I fully
expected him to take the wind out of my sails. He’d invited me to
join him at the Harvard Club. Of course.

Just walking into the
high-ceilinged, wood-paneled entryway with red and gold accents
everywhere I looked set me on edge. What kind of a pretentious jerk
would be a member of an exclusive club like this, screaming wealth
and privilege from every priceless rug and vase? Stern paintings of
old white men stared down at me along the walls. “Didn’t he go to
Dartmouth?” one of them seemed to ask, looking jowly and
disapproving. “I heard he didn’t even get a degree,” another
shook his head.

“There you are!” My
brother Colt turned from where he was conversing with some men in
suits to greet me. He looked dapper in a perfectly-tailored tuxedo.
Strong chin, bright blue eyes, freshly shaven, it appeared as if he’d
just stepped out of a Mercedes commercial. As the oldest son, he’d
inherited a freaking title when our father died: the Baron of
Warwick. Unbelievable.

“I didn’t know this
was a black tie event,” I grumbled, shaking his hand.

“No, no,” he
reassured me. “I’m off to one later after dinner. Care to join
me?”

I arched my eyebrow at
him in response.

“Of course not,” he
agreed, beginning to lead me across the room. As we walked, he
informed me that there were no less than six dining areas in the club
from which to choose.

“We have almost that
many restaurants in the town where I live,” I replied, reminding
him of our differences. As if he could ever forget. I’d cleaned
myself up to meet him, which for me meant a shirt with a collar. A
flannel workshirt, but still, no stains, no rips or tears.

“We’ll eat up on
the rooftop,” he decided, looking over at me. “Unless you’ve
got a jacket and tie in your back pocket.”

“Is that where you
keep your spare set?”

He didn’t answer,
just led me up a wide, sprawling staircase. I was surprised we were
expected to use our own legs to walk up it. No servants to carry us
up on their backs? The service in this place was deplorable!

But Colt was in his
element, stopping to greet people we passed, introducing me, asking
just the right questions, giving just the right answers. He knew
everyone. Where I’d run as far away from this world as I could,
he’d found his way right into the heart of it. He’d taken over
the family business from our father when he’d passed, inheriting
the CEO throne of Kavanaugh Industries. And he was welcome to it, as
far as I was concerned.

We sat and Colt ordered
us some grilled prawns and a white wine to start.

“Now Heath,” he
started in and I braced myself for yet another lecture. “I didn’t
know you were starting your own business up there in the woods.” He
made a dismissive gesture to accompany woods, as if I’d chosen to
live in a dung heap.

“The town’s called
Watson.”

“As I’m now well
aware,” he agreed, giving me a significant look. “Seems like
Nelson helped us out of a jam. Again.”

“We should get him a
cape for Christmas,” I grumbled. Nelson the superhero.

“No, I don’t think
he’d wear a cape,” Colt disagreed. Aw, Colt. He needed to lighten
up. “But there’s two good things that came out of the ridiculous
promo that network aired.” He held up his fingers, one, two.

“First, it dredged
you up from the bottom of the lake.”

I took a sip of my
wine. It was easier than defending myself against his bullshit.

“And second, it came
to my attention that you’re exceptionally talented.”

Wait, what was that he
just said?

“I’ve been on the
website for your shop. If you could even call it a website,” he
scoffed. “But still, I could see a few of your pieces and you’re
really doing some excellent work.”

“Um, thanks?” I
looked at him, still waiting for the catch.

“So what are you
doing to promote it?” He took a nonchalant bite of prawn.

“Nothing.” I ate a
few prawns myself. Delicious, with lemony spice. But I’d have to
eat about 200 to fill up.

“As I expected.”
Colt nodded. “Heath, let me talk to you about something.”

I put down my fork and
listened while he told me how I was going about things the wrong way.
I wasn’t growing my business. I wasn’t investing in
infrastructure, building my client base. Marketing was at least as if
not more important than creating.

“You done?” I
finally asked. I’d already made it halfway through my entrée by
the time he started winding down. Colt had confidence to burn. That
combined with the power of CEO meant the man could talk. I could
picture him up in front of a boardroom, getting them to agree to
whatever he wanted. He was so much like our father.

“I’ve said my
piece,” he agreed.

“I’m not you,” I
began. No matter how much my father had tried to make me into that
same mold, he hadn’t succeeded.

“Pretty clear on
that.” Colt nodded as he took a sip of his wine.

“I’m not doing this
to see how much money I can make.”

“Heath, Communism is
a failed doctrine. It runs contrary to human nature.”

“Who said anything
about Communism?” That was so Colt, taking a regular conversation
and infusing it with economic, political and historical facts and
theories. He’d earned his Harvard undergraduate degree and then
doubled down, getting an MBA from the same venerable institution.

“There’s nothing
wrong with making money.” Colt dumbed it down for me. “Especially
if you’re doing something you love. I’ve seen your work. You’re
really good.”

“What piece did you
like?” I almost wondered if I were calling his bluff. I had a hard
time picturing my oldest brother, the corporate raider, taking the
time to play around on our most basic of basic websites to admire my
artwork and furniture.

“The rocking chair,”
he replied instantly.

“That was Violet’s
favorite, too.” The words slipped out of my mouth before I could
think.

“Violet?” Colt gave
me a knowing glance.

“I’ll gift it to
you.” I changed the subject. “The rocking chair. It’s yours.”

“Don’t just give it
to me, Heath! For Christ’s sake! Charge me money for it! The more
the better. You determine your own worth. And if you listen to me
you’re going to start charging a lot more.”

“I’m not interested
in that,” I protested.

“What about those
people you work with? The other hippies in your commune?”

“I’m not in a
commune.”

“Sorry, artists’
collective.” Oh, wait, was my straight-laced brother making a joke?
Easy to miss them, they were so few and far between.

I could not tell a lie.
“They’d like to make more money.”

“That’s what that
network should have done a show on, you know. Who wants another
celebrity exposé? They could have done something with the local arts
and crafts scene up there. And then each week they could feature
another town. Local is hot right now.”

“That’s what Violet
wanted to do.” Again with the Violet. I took a sip of my wine. Colt
watched me do it.

“All right, listen.
You’re a man of mystery, Heath, and you want to stay that way. I
can see that. All I’m saying is you can sell more without selling
out. Let me help you and your hippie friends. Set you up with a real
website, do some marketing. You’ll all triple your sales within the
first month.”

I thought of Harriet
and how excited she’d been about the TV show. And how disappointed
she’d been when it had been taken away from her and the others.
“I’ll think about it.”

“You don’t have to
do everything alone, Heath.”

“Funny, mom just told
me the same thing.”

“Our mom?” He
looked shocked. I shrugged. We both ate for a few minutes in silence,
lost in our thoughts.

“Good to see you,
Heath,” he finally offered, looking at me with a surprisingly human
quality to his eyes. I might almost say vulnerable, though that word
and Colt had never crossed paths. “I know I haven’t…since dad
died, we haven’t…”

“We’ve both been
busy.” I gave us both the universal pass, the excuse that blanketed
over every shortcoming.

“And you’ve always
been so self-contained.” He shook his head, a slight smile on his
face. “I always remember you with those blasted Legos.”

“You do?” Whenever
I thought of our childhood, which I didn’t often, Colt wasn’t in
it. He was four years older than me, which wasn’t so much now, I
realized, him 29 and me 25. But back then it had meant he was gone,
whisked off to boarding school right around the time the shit had hit
the fan in our family.

“You’d spend hours
making these elaborate constructions,” Colt recalled. “Completely
absorbed. You had no idea what was going on around you.” That’s
where he was wrong. I had been aware, only too, and that’s why I’d
absorbed myself in Legos. But that was a conversation for another
day.