The road trip, which was designed to keep Ophelia away until everything blew over, did not go as planned. The news about her and the Richards men had gone down a rabbit hole with multiple sources making up new stories hourly. Someone had even alluded to the fact that she was having an affair with Paloma too.
Ophelia arrived back in L.A. ten days later, and much to her relief Sullivan had had to go to New York for business reasons. It only took Ophelia a few days to realize that her presence was a hindrance and in no way helpful. Reyna was in a rehab center, and the center had requested that she cease visiting her for the time being because her arrival caused too much chaos.
With sadness in her heart, she gave Reyna and Pops her resignation.
There were tears, words of love and support, and the promise that when it all blew over, she would come back and things would be normal again, but Ophelia knew that you could never go back. If Oak Island had taught her anything, it was that very fact.
It took her a day to pack up her belongings and another day to write all the necessary passwords, phone numbers, and any additional useful information down for her replacement. When it came time to leave, Sawyer helped her load up her boxes and then held her while she cried. There were no words of comfort that would make it better, and he knew better than to bring up Sullivan. He promised her he would take good care of Polly until her master returned and that he would make sure to help Reyna and Pops with everything they needed.
As she drove away, she refused to look back, and when she reached the gate, the press made it impossible to do anyway.
Ophelia spent the next few months traveling around the country, seeing some of the places she always wanted to see, New Orleans, Memphis, Santa Fe. She drove without rhyme and reason, never staying in one place too long. Eventually, she stopped seeing her face on the tabloids' covers and figured it was time to settle somewhere.
Shay was the only one she had remained in contact with during her travels. She had to turn her work phone into Reyna, which left her with her personal phone only, and she asked Shay to repay her favor and keep her number to herself, but Ophelia would call her weekly and ask for updates on Reyna. Reyna was home and had made a full recovery, although she wasn't quite ready for work yet. Pops had taken a roll as an Army general and was in fine form, bossing everyone around. Shay said the girl who had taken Ophelia's place had bitten her nails to the quick and could barely string two words together whenever Sullivan or Sawyer were around. Sawyer was well and taking some time off to hang out in Florida, although he wouldn't say why, and Sullivan was busy editing his masterpiece film that had wrecked the family. Shay was unusually quiet about herself.
Realizing it was time to settle down before she completely drained her savings, Ophelia landed in New York. It was as good a place as any to get lost in a crowd. She had worked as a live-in personal assistant for a while, but her employers were not Reyna, and it was miserable. After about six months, she had enough saved to take a lesser paying job.
It was the first time in a long time that fortune had smiled on Ophelia. She landed a job at a unique bookstore that was also a coffee shop and art gallery. There were frequent open mic nights, art showings, and Indy-film showings. It was a stimulating place.
It was located in an old four-story brownstone. The basement was the bookstore and coffee shop, the ground floor was where the galleries were located, and the second and third floor housed an office, living area, kitchen, and five bedrooms. These bedrooms were given to staff willing to take a much lower rate of pay for their room and board. Ophelia lucked into one of these rooms.
Ophelia loved her new job. She did everything from making coffee, stocking shelves, setting up for events, to cleaning bathrooms when necessary. The owner, Annsa, was a forty-something woman with vibrant red hair who always wore flowing clothes that surrounded her like a cloud.
Uma was attending NYU as a film student and was obsessed with film noir. Once a month, she could pick out a film in her favorite genre to show in the gallery. She was a petite blond with green eyes.
Hank was a thirty-something artist. He was tall and thin and always smelled like old paint and turpentine. He had a bit of a crush on Annsa, but Annsa's feelings were unclear.
Robin was a book worm to the core. She loved every word ever written, and they all turned their backs when she borrowed a book from the shop.
Every single one of them had their strengths. Annsa had brought Ophelia in to help with the paperwork and the books, run the social media accounts, maintain the website, and book the artists.
They were a team, a well-oiled machine, and Ophelia had found another home, something she never thought would happen again. If any of them recognized her, they kept it to themselves.
It had been over a year since she had left the Richards employ, and she missed them every day.
Once, after having helped Hank pick up supplies from his favorite art store, she swore she saw Sullivan getting into a cab. Hank had called her name, and she had only looked away for a second, but when she turned around, the cab was gone.
It had depressed her for a week, and the others gave her the space she needed to regain her equilibrium.
They had done their mid-year inventory that day, so the store had been closed. Now, they were all in the living room with the remnants of their pizza dinner surrounding them. It was rare for them to all have dinner together. The television was tuned to one of those late-night talk shows, and everyone, but Ophelia, was lounging around in food comas with only the occasional word being spoken.
Ophelia was sitting at the small kitchen table in the corner, trying to make the numbers add up in the computer. The problem with artists was that they were no good with numbers. She muttered to herself as she threw another miscount on a pile that was growing by the minute. There was no way they had 81 copies of The Grapes of Wrath. It had to be more like 18.
Ophelia, who was only half tuned into the television show, froze she heard the words, "Welcome to the show, brothers, Sullivan and Sawyer Richards!" The host's voice was exuberant, and Ophelia glanced at the screen, noting that she was a pretty woman with perfect features and perfect hair.
Ophelia had stopped breathing as she heard their names, but now her heart stopped as she saw Sullivan, looking handsome in a suit, appear on the screen.
"Whoo-eee, she's all over Sullivan like a flea on a dog!" Hank shook his head as he stood to grab another piece of pizza. "Some guys have all the luck!" Then he burped.
Ophelia forced her attention back onto her computer screen.
"Sullivan Richards, you ain't, Hank!" Uma snorted as she took a sip of her soda. "I mean, I'd take either one, but Sullivan is more mysterious."
"He's less feeling. It's more of a challenge for a woman to break through that cold exterior. I'd take Sawyer any day. He's fun," Robin chimed into the conversation.
"I'd take Sullivan," Annsa added. "Physically, he's more powerful, and I bet he is something in the bedroom if you know what I mean." Annsa gave a dreamy smile.
"What about you, Ophelia!" Hank called from across the room.
"Sullivan, all the way!" Ophelia said, without taking her eyes off the screen in front of her.
"Fine, then let's watch this paragon of manhood!" Hank said, plopping down on the couch and focusing on the television.
"There's a rumor that you changed actresses towards the end of the shoot. Is this true?" the host asked.
Ophelia froze at the question.
"Yes, we brought in Paloma Clark," Sullivan confirmed without going into details.
Ophelia could hear the tension in his voice.
"Paloma was great. She was the missing link that we needed to make the movie meet Sullivan's vision." Sawyer added.
A photo of Paloma flashed on the screen. She was in costume for the movie and in deep discussion with Sullivan. "There have been rumors of wedding bells for years between you and Paloma, is there anything to it?" the host asked.
Thankfully, the host had moved on from the initial question, and Ophelia took a deep breath.
"Paloma is a dear friend," Sullivan said with a sincere smile.
"And your mother, how is she doing after her boating accident?" As usual, the interview was turning personal.
"She's one-hundred percent. In fact, she goes back to work next week." Sawyer said.
The interview returned once more to the movie, and its plot before a brief segment of it was shown. It was a dramatic love scene between Sawyer and Paloma, and Sullivan had been right to change actresses. Paloma and Sawyer set the screen on fire.
A joke was made, tongue in cheek, that maybe Paloma had changed to team Sawyer after the steamy love scene, everyone laughed, and the interview was ended.
"Give me Paloma Clark any day!" Hank whistled under his breath. "That Sullivan Richards is one lucky dude to have her on his arm."
Ophelia couldn't take it anymore, so she redirected the conversation.
"I need a recount on these things!" She held up the stack of papers.
"Nooooo!" Uma cried. "My feet hurt!"
"We can do it tomorrow morning and open late?" Ophelia looked at Annsa for direction.
"Nope, now. If we each take a few, we can have it done in a few minutes." She stood and grabbed the slips of paper, passing them around.
"We could always upgrade to a modern P.O.S., and then you wouldn't have to do all this recounting," Ophelia suggested.
"I'll think about it," Annsa muttered as she led the group back downstairs, giving Ophelia the breathing room that she needed to recover from seeing Sullivan and Sawyer again.
She missed them both, but Sullivan had caused an ache that wouldn't heal.