Finally,I’dhad enough.Thetwo women didn’t seem to be doing anything at all but gossiping—meanwhileViviennewas waiting patiently, seemingly oblivious to the way she was getting talked about.
“Excuse me,”Isaid, raising my voice and looking directly at them.“Couldone of you ladies please helpLadyVivienne?She’spicking up a few things she ordered online.”
Their eyes flew wide in surprise, andIguessed that they weren’t used to people asking them to actually do their job.Butafter a moment, the woman with the blonde ponytail came forward and said, in a grudging tone,
“Packages for thePackLeader’swife, you say?”
“Yes,Barbara—thank you,”Viviennesaid graciously, stepping up to the long counter.
“Well, let me see.Idon’t know if there’s anything for you at all,”Barbarasaid, frowning.
“There should be—Igot a notice that the new clothesIordered were in,”Viviennesaid politely.
“Oh, new clothes, is it?”the other woman sneered.“Guessyou can’t wait to start living it up now that poorPackMasterCarteris gone.”
Vivienne bowed her head, two spots of color blooming on her cheeks.
“I never…Ijust needed some new summer dresses,” she said in a low voice.
It struck me that she was used to being talked to like this or why else would she put up with it?MaybeUncleCarterhadn’t allowed her to talk back if the people of thePackinsulted her.
Well, there was no one stoppingmefrom speaking up.
“Why would you say that?”Idemanded, staring directly at the blonde woman.“TheLadyVivienneis a grieving widow.Whywould you assume she ordered new clothes to celebrate the fact that her husband died?”
The woman looked taken aback.Hereyes went wide, and her face went pale.
“I…Inever said…” she began.
“You implied it,”Ishot back.“LadyViviennewas a faithful wife to your oldPackLeaderfor twenty years.Pleasetreat her with the respect that she deserves.”
“I…I…”Barbaraclearly couldn’t think how to respond.Butthe other woman—the one with the gray curls—suddenly hurried up to the counter with an armful of packages.
“Here you are,Mr…?”
“I’mKorwynJamison, nephew ofCarterJamison,”Isaid, thoughIwas fairly sure she knew whoIwas.Ina town this small, the incident at the oldPackLeader’sfuneral the night before would be front page news.
“Ah yes.Well, here areMs.Vivienne’spackages,Mr.Jamison,” she said, pushing the packages over the counter to us.“Thankyou for coming in today.”
“Thank you,Ellen,”Vivienneechoed, nodding graciously.
I gathered the packages for her because, as my mom used to say, a gentleman doesn’t let a lady carry things when he can help, and we left the post office.
ThoughIcouldn’t see them,Icould hear the whispers of the two women.
“Getting too big for her britches,” one of them hissed.
“Always so high and mighty—like she’s better than us,” the other replied.
I frowned, wondering ifViviennehad heard too.Probably—she hadWerehearing just likeIdid.Butshe didn’t turn and confront either of the women.Herchin went up and the cool, calm expression came over her face again.
That’s her armor,Ithought, watching her transform.Theonly defense she has against those people.
It was a shame they didn’t know her the wayIwas beginning to.Viviennewas anything but cold and uncaring—Ihad seen her true self when she cried in my arms that morning.Shewas hurting inside, andIwasn’t completely convinced that all of her pain was coming from the past.Thereseemed to be something bothering her, though she hadn’t told me what it was.
She doesn’t have to tell you anything—it’s not your business,Itold myself sharply.ButIcouldn’t help feeling worried about her, just the same.Whatwas the secret anxiety she was harboring?
“Let me just put these in the car andI’llmeet you in the grocery store,”Itold her, once we were out of thePostOffice.