Chapter 16 - Tea With Vivienne
I agreed to meet Vivienne because Camille believed the conversation might clarify her position.
Not because the message had earned my trust.
The meeting took place in Camille’s office.
I refused the private club Vivienne suggested.
She arrived carrying a silk scarf and the expression of a woman accustomed to making other people feel underdressed.
I wore trousers, a sweater, and supportive shoes.
My ankle remained inconveniently real.
Vivienne kissed the air beside my cheeks before I could step back.
“Lena. Elena’s eyes.”
I did not thank her.
She sat.
For several minutes, she spoke about my mother as though describing a difficult but beloved masterpiece.
Brilliant.
Stubborn.
Impossible.
Too sensitive.
I waited until she stopped.
“You worked for her,” I said.
Vivienne smiled.
“We worked together.”
Camille opened the file.
“Then we should identify what each party agreed to.”
The smile thinned.
Vivienne described international introductions.
Performance opportunities.
Advances.
Costs.
She said Elena had benefited from her representation before deciding that personal freedom excused professional obligations.
I felt heat rise beneath my collar.
“My mother opened a neighborhood studio.”
“Yes,” Vivienne said. “Instead of completing engagements.”
“While she was sick.”
“Some disputes predated the illness.”
Camille placed a hand near the file.
Not on mine.
Near enough to remind me why we were there.
We discussed documents.
The actual documents.
Some agreements concerned recordings.
Others concerned representation during specified periods.
There were references to expenses my mother disputed.
Vivienne’s claim to control future reconstructions appeared broader than the pages she had provided.
She said additional schedules existed.
Camille requested them.
Then Vivienne turned to me.
“You are talented, Lena. But talent requires management.”
“I have management.”
“You have a billionaire who is in love.”
I went still.
Alexander’s wealth had become an explanation people used whenever they wanted to ignore my choices.
“I also have a lawyer,” I said.
Camille smiled without warmth.
Vivienne changed direction.
She could arrange an international tour.
A carefully managed debut.
Access to important stages.
The Glass Orchard could be developed properly.
In return, she wanted an exclusive relationship concerning the work and associated publicity.
A new contract.
A fresh signature.
I looked at the proposal.
For fourteen years, I had imagined someone offering me the world my mother once knew.
Now the offer lay on a desk, and I could see the cost more clearly.
“I’m not signing anything today.”
“Of course not.”
Vivienne sounded gracious.
Then she added, “Delay can close doors.”
“So can bad agreements.”
For the first time, she looked directly at me rather than at Elena’s daughter.
Good.
The meeting ended without resolution.
Camille would continue examining the archive.
Vivienne would supply the missing materials.
I would not rehearse through pain simply because a woman in silk described caution as fear.
Outside, I found Alexander waiting across the street.
He had not come inside.
I appreciated that.
Then he said, “I spoke to her counsel.”
I stopped.
“About what?”
“A temporary standstill. No filings while we review the papers.”
My relief lasted one second.
Then I saw his face.
“What else?”
He looked toward the car.
“An option to acquire certain archival rights.”
I stared.
“You offered to buy them?”
“To stop her using them against you.”
“Without asking me.”
“It was only a proposal.”
“Without asking me.”
He said nothing.
For months, Alexander had been learning to ask.
Fear had sent him back to the language he knew best.
Buy the obstacle.
Control the timing.
Remove the threat.
I understood the instinct.
I was still furious.
“My mother is not a parcel in one of your shipping disputes.”
His face changed.
“I know.”
“Then stop trying to acquire the parts of her that hurt.”
I walked past the car.
Not far.
My ankle would not permit a dramatic exit.
That made the moment worse.
Thomas approached and asked whether I wanted another vehicle.
I said yes.
Alexander did not stop him.
As I climbed inside, he spoke.
“Lena, I don’t want to lose you.”
May you like
I looked at him.
“Then don’t make being protected feel like disappearing.”
