Page 4 of Falls From Grace
“It’s only going to get colder, Mrs. Lyman,” warned Chester with a twinkle in his eye. “Hope you packed your winter coat!”
“Brynn, please,” she corrected him. This Mrs. business was going to be the death of her, as she fought off the strained, mildly hysterical giggle bubbling up inside her. “And this is my winter coat,” she added wryly, shrugging inside her leather.
“Ah. I’ll have Remy take you back into town tomorrow so you can start your shopping tour then! Burlington is very well resourced.”
“Yeah, that’d be… great.” Brynn was not a shopper, and she definitely didn’t have the budget for whatever a tour of shopping entailed. Chester had stylishly-cut steel-gray hair and dark flashing eyes surrounded by deep crow’s feet that made him look perpetually a little worried, despite his cheerful smile. He cocked his head for them to follow.
“Brace yourselves,” he remarked, before opening one of the glass doors and leading them back outside into the chill. Later, she would wonder if Chester had been warning them about the cold outside, or something else altogether. Hunching her shoulders, Brynn gestured for Noah to go first, trying to shelter behind his skinny frame as the light breeze sliced through her.
The perfectly trimmed lawn was emerald green and lush, feeling soft under her shoes. When had she last walked on grass? Her life in LA was all pavement and sand. She tried to take in the surroundings, but it almost felt too much. Every tree was spectacular in its individual blaze of color, the lake a sheet of polished glass, the sky a soft blue completely untouched by the smog of LA.
The men ahead of her came to a stop and she stepped around from behind them to see why. Hidden in one of the Adirondack chairs at the edge of the bluff, looking out over the lake was a woman. She, too, seemed dressed poorly for the cold, in skinny blue jeans, ankle boots and a gray knit sweater. Her long blonde hair was pulled up in a messy bun. She wore no makeup and while her cheeks glowed slightly pink in the cold, her lips were blanched almost white, her large blue eyes watering. For a moment, Brynn wondered if they’d surprised her while she was crying, but as the woman’s unflinching expression settled on them, she figured she was just cold.
“Savannah Grace,” Chester gestured. “Noah Lyman, and his wife Brynn.” Brynn started. Not just at the ‘wife’ word again, but at the realization that this was the megastar they’d come to meet. She didn’t look like a celebrity at all, nor Brynn’s idea of a country singer. This small, plainly dressed woman? No cowboy boots or big hair? She rolled her eyes internally at herself and looked closer.
Savannah was objectively stunning, even dressed down the way she was: her eyes the exact same shade as the lake, full lips (probably natural, her LA brain immediately assessed), flawless skin and both curves and legs that her plain outfit couldn’t conceal. She suddenly realized the gray-blue eyes were watching her back and she felt a flush come over her as she rearranged her own expression from checking her out to one of friendly greeting. Great wifing, Marshall, she thought with chagrin.
Savannah didn’t get up but reached out to shake both their hands, her fingers icy cool. Brynn fought the urge to squeeze them between her own and rub some warmth into them. Why on earth would you choose to sit out here when there was a delicious log fire inside? How long had she been there, and more importantly, how long would they have to stay out there with her? Fucking celebrities.
“Lucille will show them to their rooms, but I thought you’d like to meet our guests first.” Chester filled the silence after both she and Noah had murmured their nice to meet you-s. Savannah seemed to shake herself, as if remembering that talking was a thing that regular mortals did.
“Thank you for coming,” she murmured, the words barely out of her mouth before the phone beside her on the wooden chair interrupted with a piano version of Brahms' Lullaby, which frankly was a very creepy ringtone to choose. “Excuse me,” she said, before turning her body slightly and answering the call. She listened for less than a second. “I’m on my way,” she said to the caller and hung up without saying goodbye. She got to her feet. “I’m really very sorry,” she addressed Noah. “We’ll talk soon,” she promised, as if they hadn’t just flown seven hours to meet her. All three turned and watched as she paced across the lawn and disappeared into the house.
“Did we…do something wrong?” asked Noah. Chester shook his head, looking faintly worried as he always seemed to.
“No, no, all is well,” he said, his voice remaining cheerful. “Savannah is just a bit torn between responsibilities at the moment. She’ll settle down and focus when you two start writing. Oh, my stars, Mrs. Lyman, you look frozen through. Let’s get you back inside, shall we?”
Brynn had never been so pleased to submit to old-fashioned chivalry in her life. Once inside in the warmth, an older woman appeared and introduced herself as Lucille, the housekeeper. She led them up an enormous white flight of stairs and along corridors hung with stunning black-and-white shots of a number of musicians in action, none of whom Brynn recognised, although one or two looked vaguely familiar. Coming to the end of the hall, Lucille opened one half of a double door and welcomed them to their suite.
Suite was perhaps underselling it. Brynn’s entire apartment could have fit inside it eight times over. As the door closed behind them - Lucille letting them know there’d be pre-dinner drinks served at 6 p.m. - she and Noah exchanged awed grins and high-fived each other before leaping in to explore.
They had their own bright and beautifully appointed living room, with three gigantic sofas and an oversized television, a well-stocked kitchenette complete with a tall bar fridge filled with drinks and snacks. The bathroom was stunning: all soft gray stone with a lush clawfoot tub positioned under a vast picture window facing out over the lake. Finally, there was a luxuriously appointed bedroom with the biggest bed Brynn had ever seen. The bedding was soft, white and fluffy, making it look like a giant cloud. With a groan, she flopped her tired body down onto it and lay sprawling, limbs spread out like a starfish.
“Where are you going to sleep, Lyman?”
“Pfft,” Noah snorted. “I could have an orgy on the other side of this bed and you wouldn’t even notice.”
“Good point.” Brynn rolled over about eight times and claimed the right side of the bed as her own. She sat up and gazed outside, mesmerized by the gentle undulations of the lake, framed by the spectacular patchwork of bright trees. “So…. Savannah… was she just what you imagined?”
“I don’t know,” mused Noah. “Too soon to tell. I mean, we barely saw her.”
“Right? She was rude. So very I have more important things to do than waste time on mere underlings like you.”
“I’m not sure man, she seemed… fragile or something.” Noah had hauled his suitcase out and started to unpack his many hair products.
“Ugh please, that’s such a gross dude thing to say. She’s pretty and she’s petite, so you’re all naw, she’s fragile. The woman’s a powerhouse; I’m sure she doesn’t need you to sweep her up in your manly arms and save her.”
“Doesn’t mean she’s not human.” Noah shrugged as he crossed to the bathroom, likely to take up all the storage space. Brynn rolled her eyes and followed him, her far more humble cosmetics bag in hand.
“You’ve changed your tune. You thought she’d be a typical celebrity pain in the ass, then after she acts exactly like one, you decide she’s a delicate teeny-weeny human. It’s got nothing to do with the fact that she’s wildly gorgeous, though, right?”
“You noticed that too, huh?” Noah wriggled his eyebrows at her. “Unlike you, since you’re a country music philistine, I already knew what she looked like. But no, it’s not that. I think she just seemed…sad. And stressed, or something. I hope she still wants to write with me.” He looked worried.
“She paid for our flights out, didn’t she? I’m sure she’ll get her head out of her ass soon enough. Don’t worry about it just yet, my friend.”
They unpacked together. Noah was a ski-bunny in Winter and his wardrobe was far more Vermont-ready than her own. Brynn wasn’t particularly worried. Their suite was deliciously toasty, and she figured it’d be at least a week before she even wanted to get out of the impossibly cozy bed.
“Dude… what’s this?” Noah was peering into her almost empty suitcase. “Some light reading?” He was looking at her old anatomy textbook.
