“What are you talking about?” Audrey asks.
Vivien and I share a look and then speak at the same time. “Peggy.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Vivien
* * *
Betty’s Diner is packed. I had to park down the street. A crowd lingers outside, waiting to be seated.
Or they’re there for the show.
They part like the Red Sea when Audrey and I walk to the door.
It’s us, we’re the show.
Jerry winks at us, the movement exaggerated. “What a surprise to see you two here,” he says loudly and then holds the door open.
“Thanks, Jerry.”
Inside, Mother sticks out like a hard diamond surrounded by rough-cut gems. She’s seated in the back corner booth, posture perfect, coat draped beside her like she’s posing. Maybe she’s sitting up so straight so her back won’t touch the red vinyl seat behind her and become tarnished with its averageness.
She looks up as we approach. “Vivien. Audrey.”
Audrey slides into the booth across from her. “Mother.”
I sit next to Audrey so we’re both facing her.
A waitress appears next to the table almost immediately, coffee pot in hand. She’s middle-aged, wearing a red and white checkered apron, her dark hair pulled back in a bun. Her nametag reads Margaret. “Morning. Can I get you ladies coffee?”
“Yes, please.” I turn my cup over.
Audrey does too, and she fills them then turns toward Mother. “And you, ma’am?”
“No coffee for me.”
“Anything else to drink?”
“Do you have Perrier?”
“Uh, we have tap water.”
“I’ll pass.”
The waitress leaves, and Mother waits a beat before folding her hands on the table. “So. I’m glad you agreed to meet. I’m not your enemy.”
“Then why do you act like it?”
“As I’ve explained, I want our family attorney to review your grandmother’s will. That’s it. Once that’s done, you can sell the assets or hire someone to care for them, and come back to LA. I got you an audition for the next Mack Ziner film. And Audrey, your friends have been stopping by the house, asking for you. Don’t you want to come home?”
Aubrey opens one of the little creamers and dumps it in her cup. “No. I don’t. I’m happy here.”
A disbelieving laugh huffs out of her. “How can you be happy in this . . . place?” She winces in disgust. “The people here are ridiculous. I couldn’t even order room service this morning. First the phone in the room wouldn’t work, and then the lady at the front desk was too deaf to hear me. I tried to find a restaurant in town, but this is literally the only option other than the grocery store.”
I lift my coffee cup to my lips to cover my smile. “Did you try the grocery store?”
“Well, yes, if you must know, I did. Their register was broken.”
