Free Just Kiss Me by Rachel Gibson

direct. Then she turned toward him and pointed toward the ceiling. He shook his head, clearly not happy with the orders his mother issued his way. The last time Vivien’d seen Henry, he’d stood in her own momma’s kitchen, frosting on his shirt and laughing about stolen petit fours. She couldn’t recall if she’d ever heard Henry laugh before. Ever. He’d certainly never called her “darlin’,” and for a moment or two, they had been just a man and a woman. Standing in a kitchen sharing a laugh. She’d forgotten their past and that she’d called him Butt Head Henry.
    “I’m not your employee,” he told Nonnie as Vivien walked toward them. “I’m only here to pick up grandmother’s extension leaves for you.” He pointed toward a dining table with big claw feet shoved against the far wall. “I don’t think you realize what it’s going to take to get those damn things ready in two days.”
    “I appreciate it, son, but right now I need you to go up into the attic and look around for your grandmother Shuler’s wedding silver. I need the chrysanthemum cake plate.” She gestured with her hands. “It’s about yea big, by yea big. It’s heavy and tacky beyond words.”
    Vivien remembered the chrysanthemum silver. She’d polished it enough times that the pattern was imprinted in her brain. She set the garment bag on a horsehair settee and interrupted Nonnie’s diatribe on the Shulers’ tacky taste. “Excuse me.” When the older woman turned toward her she said, “I have Momma’s clothes ready.”
    “Good.” Nonnie nodded. “I’ll have someone take them to Stuhr’s for you.”
    Which brought Vivien to her second problem of the day. “I need to shop for some things.” From behind his mother’s left shoulder, Henry’s dark gaze met hers and the lines creasing his forehead rose as if he’d looked up and was surprised to see her. “When I left L.A., I forgot to pack a dress.”
    One corner of his mouth lifted as if she wasn’t an altogether unpleasant surprise. In the past two days, Henry had smiled at her more than in her entire life. She turned her attention to Nonnie, away from the confusion of Henry’s smiles. “Sarah isn’t here to pick something up for me.” The last time Vivien had tried to shop like a regular person, a crowd of photographers had camped outside of Dior on Rodeo, waiting for her. Within minutes, the crowd grew bigger, the paparazzi more intense, trapping her inside. Before security could disperse the spectators, a Japanese tourist got mowed down by Paris Hilton’s pink Bentley. Thank goodness the tourist survived, but Vivien had been horrified by the whole experience. She’d learned her lesson about walking around like a normal person. “I don’t want to attract attention while I’m in Charleston.” Her gaze rose to Henry’s face as she said, “Sarah usually calls ahead of time so the store manager can get security in place before my arrival.”
    He shook his head. “I doubt you’ll need security.”
    Maybe he was right. This was Charleston. Very few people knew she was in town. If anyone recognized her, they’d probably think she was just some random woman who resembled Vivien Rochet, a plain and less attractive version, of course.
    “I’ll call Berlin’s.” Nonnie pulled a cell phone from the pocket of her blazer and dialed the number. She relayed Vivien’s problem and concern, then she placed a hand over the phone and said, “Ellen’s checking to see if they still have the black Armani.”
    Vivien knew exactly where Berlin’s was located. As a kid, she and her momma had window-shopped at the exclusive clothier at King and Broad. They’d talked about the day they would be rich enough to walk through the doors and buy designer dresses and frivolous hats, but like all the other things they’d dreamed about, they’d never done it. Now they would never get the chance. “Is Momma’s car in the big garage?”
    “That car doesn’t run. Henry will