“You’re going to do something great. I know it,” he assured me, kissing my hair. Lying there in his arms, I really believed I would.
And I hadn’t even looked at my phone yet to see the text waiting for me, inviting me to a meeting with a new network.
CHAPTER 24
Heath
I headed back up to Watson after another week and a half, and another week after that Violet came up, too. It felt so good to spend time with her again up there, where I still felt most at home. And what was incredibly cool was the fact that there were two reasons she was back in Vermont.
The first and clearly best reason was that she wanted to see me. I couldn’t get enough of her and apparently she felt the same way. We’d had our fight back in February, spent our time apart, and now both of us were holding on to what we had together with fierce protectiveness. Seeing as how tough we both could get, I’d give our relationship a pretty good chance at survival.
But the second reason Violet was back up in Vermont was to get video footage to pitch a concept for a show. And not the show that Fame! had in mind. This was a new network. Violet had a friend in the city who apparently knew everybody. She was the type of person who had the exact opposite instincts as me. Where I’d see a crowd and turn away quick, this friend of Violet’s would plunge right in and three hours later have a hundred and fifty new best friends.
Violet had made the most of her new connections, wining and dining, lunching and brunching, and each time she talked with someone new she circled in closer and closer around what it was she wanted to do. It was so fun to watch her do it, too. I didn’t go along with her to any of the meetings, but I got to hear about them as she came back with shining, excited eyes and talked rapid-stream about all her new ideas.
I did my own work of a sort in the city, meeting with my oldest brother Colt and then some of the artists I was getting to know. There was a lot we could do together, and I finally felt open to giving it a try. It was worth a shot, putting all our work together on a website, marketing it to niche customers. Colt hooked me up with people who knew all about branding and targeting and all sorts of other actions that sounded vaguely violent but the way they talked about it got even me interested.
Once I returned to Vermont, I didn’t try to force things with my friends and neighbors. I let things take their own, natural course. Vermonters were slow to warm up and not overly fond of change, two of the many reasons I felt right at home among them. But it didn’t mean my re-entry into Watson as Heathcliff Kavanaugh, heir to a couple hundred million, would be smooth.
My buddy Dave took things in stride, dealing with the new reality by giving me plenty of shit. “Guess you’re buying,” he liked saying to me whenever I came by his bar.
Sometimes he called me MB for moneybags. Sometimes Richie Rich. Either way, I preferred it to the way he’d been looking at me the day he’d stopped by my cabin, like I was an alien from another planet. If he was harassing me, it meant he still thought of me as a friend. That was the New England way.
In early April the guys down at the brewery decided to throw a party. That was also the New England way. No one complained too much about winter in Vermont. It was a given, an accepted part of life in our part of the world. But once spring came, you realized just how much you’d been missing the sunshine and all the green. People came out of the woodwork, blinked their eyes, and wanted to party.
On the night of, Violet came out of my bedroom twirling in a flippy dress that ended mid-thigh.
“Too much?” she asked, as if any man in his right mind would ever say no to seeing his woman wear that dress.
“Don’t you dare take that dress off,” I told her, rising to greet her in more ways than one.
“I could change into some baggy jeans,” she said, teasing me now. “Maybe some sweatpants?”
“Wear that dress,” I told her stern, catching her in my arms. “Until I take it off later.”
Everyone was at the party, because that was how Watson rolled, all the residents hanging out from ages eight months to 80. They’d strung up some little white lights in the patio area and a local band was playing bluegrass tunes. Violet did some dancing. I did some sitting, shooting the shit and drinking beers with some guys, which suited me just fine. I had a great view of the dance floor.
When the band took a break, someone hooked up an iPad to the speakers. Bruno Mars came on and like some kind of a flash mob, Violet and Helga and a bunch of other women flooded the dance floor and shook it in a crazy routine, laughing the whole time. I only had eyes for Violet, though, watching her all flushed and relaxed and having the time of her life.
“So she’s back,” Harriet said, coming to join me. “With another idea for a show?”
“Yup,” I agreed, still a couple of years away from earning my official Vermonter’s card, granting me the right to say “a-yuh.” I’d get there, though. You had to have goals in life.
“But a different network?” Harriet asked.
“I think it’s called Explore? Something like that.”
“How do you feel about all of it?”
I turned to her. Nice of her to ask. She’d been a little frosty with me when all the shit had hit the fan a couple months ago. But she seemed to have gotten over all that. Especially since new opportunities had opened up for her, our shop, and all of the artisans in the area courtesy of my brother, Colt, and his extensive team of marketing geniuses.
“I’m good,” I assured her, eyes back on my girlfriend.
She kept on talking shop with me, wanting to check in on this or that detail about our new web retail presence. I still didn’t follow all of the ins-and-outs of it, but I had been amazed at what some high-quality web design and marketing could achieve for our small, locally-owned and operated businesses. Colton had been right, which, I had to admit, he usually was about a lot of things. With some niche outreach—I was still figuring out exactly what he meant by that, but it seemed like matching up interested people with stuff they’d like—we were all seeing our visibility and sales climb rapidly.
It all dovetailed nicely into Violet’s latest pitch. She’d met with a bunch of people in New York, but the meeting that had gone the best, where she felt like they instantly got her concept and ran with it, was with the Explore Channel. She was developing a concept with them for a series of half-hour shows called Love Your Local featuring the best of local spots all over the U.S. and their food, art, people, music.
I thought she had a great idea on her hands and so far the network executives seemed to agree. They were giving her a ton of creative discretion. The first place she wanted to film? Watson, Vermont.
“Oh my God! Have you tried these?” Violet came over carrying a plate with a few cookies, fresh-baked from the town’s diner.
“Crazy good,” I agreed, helping myself to two. They made a white chocolate Macadamia nut cookie that could probably inspire world peace it tasted so good, though chocolate chip was still my favorite. I was a basic kind of guy.
Violet settled into my lap and I was glad we didn’t have to have the whole “get on over here” conversation. Wrapping an arm around her, I gave her a kiss. And maybe she had a crumb or two at the corner of her mouth I got in on as well.
“We’ve got to get the diner on the show, too,” Violet declared.
“Maybe they’d want to sell some cookies from the website?” I could see a tie-in from the show after it aired, sending people to the site where they could taste for themselves. The hard cider, too.
“Colt would be so proud of you.” Violet smiled, nuzzling me behind my ear. “You’re such a corporate raider.”
“I do like raiding things.” No, it didn’t make much sense, but from my suggestive tone and hands caressing her waist, she knew what I was thinking about.
“Really?” she asked, teasing me back but I liked the hitch in her breath all the same. “Are you going to raid and plunder me later?”
“I don’t think so.” I shook my head.
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“No?” She looked so disappointed that my masculine pride swelled, in both the literal and figurative sense.
“Later seems like too long to wait.” I gave her a roguish smile. “How about now?” I stood, offering her my hand.
“Now’s a good time,” she agreed, placing her hand in mine as we made our way through the party, saying our good-byes.
Just two months ago I’d been pretty worried that I’d been permanently cast out of Watson, branded as a fraud and a liar. Turned out that most of the townsfolk seemed either to have forgotten all about the blip on the radar that was the promo for the exposé, or they hadn’t cared in the first place. I guessed my own fears of what people would think had loomed larger than reality.
“Headin’ out, Richie Rich?” Dave asked me, clapping me on the back.
“Got to go count my millions,” I confirmed, clapping him right back.
“Not going to buy us a few rounds first?” another guy who worked at the brewery asked.