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“It means even small things have mighty impact.” Vivi laughed a little as they walked past the pool. “There was a very successful college basketball coach who used to say,“Little things make big things happen.”It’s the same concept.”
Coop was impressed she’d made the link. He never had, but then again, he’d never dwelled too much on Shakespearean quotes. “The coach you’re talking about is John Wooden. He has the most basketball championship wins in NCAA history.”
The more Vivi talked, the more Coop was convinced that she’d be able to shed light on the mysterious quest his father had sent him on.
“It wasn’t that Shakespeare had all this insight on his own,” Vivi said in an excited voice that matched the sudden spring to her step. “He wasn’t a prophet. He was just really good at putting words and themes in his stories that captured the human experience and perspective. Words and themes that are still relevant today.”
Coop nodded as they approached the horses. “Like lives are short and pay attention to detail?”
The black gelding greeted him with a nose to Coop’s hat, knocking it to the ground.
“He’s as annoyed with your interruption of his siesta as I am with your interruption of my work.” Vivi bent to pick up his cowboy hat, dusted it off, and placed it on Coop’s head.
Their gazes lingered.
Pound-pound-pound.
Not only did she make his pulse race, Vivi made him long for something he couldn’t define. And it had nothing to do with Shakespeare and everything to do with long, quiet conversations that covered everything and nothing.
“I have questions about Shakespeare.” Coop handed her Yancy’s reins, expecting to help her mount, but Vivi swung into the saddle on her own. “You said old Will believed in fate?”
“Yes. But remember that I don’t.” So glib. That was her response any time he came too close physically or verbally.
“I’m not sure why you don’t take me seriously.”
“Because nobody normal ever wants to talk about Shakespeare.” Vivi turned Yancy around and headed down to the beach.
Coop had to hustle to mount up and follow. “Uh, sidebar. When did you learn how to ride? All that panic yesterday and—”
“Yesterday, I had nothing to hold onto—”
“Except me.” He patted a spot above his belt buckle.
“—butyou.” She gave him that superior smirk of hers. “I had a well-rounded education which included all kinds ofquote-unquoteuseful skills, like how to ride, how to swing a golf club, and how to hail a cab when it’s snowing.”
“Nobody takes cabs anymore,” Coop noted. “They Uber or Lyft.”
“Or order gas-guzzling, black Town Cars.” She tried to hide a smile.
And he couldn’t hide his. “There are lots of ways to get around, including horseback riding.” He patted Boots. “Can I at least toss out my academic question?”
“If you must.” But she tried to urge Yancy into a trot or gallop, giving away her unwillingness to answer.
Thankfully, Yancy was older than Mother Earth and had only one speed—slow. The mare kept plodding forward in the sand despite Vivi’s attempts to the contrary.
Coop told Vivi the quote he was interested in—like madness is the glory of this life—explaining how his father had prefaced it by telling him to find his fate or his gift. Or both.
Vivi turned thoughtful. “The first meaning is the most obvious, that a frivolous, or glorified life, will lead to ruin. Overspending and such. Is there a family business he might be concerned with?”
“Yes,” Coop said tightly. “That’s what I thought when I looked up the quote online. But it doesn’t mention a gift.”
“Hold that thought about the gift,” Vivi said with a furrow in her brow. “You probably didn’t dig deep enough to find the broader meaning of the quote. According to Shakespeare, there’s a boundary between living a life to its fullest—happily—and living a so-called “mad” life—one that is wasteful. Who can judge what is right or wrong? Because what’s right for one doesn’t fit another. And perhaps…” She gave him a searching glance. “Never mind.”
“What?” Coop mashed his cowboy hat on his head in frustration. He felt as if he was within reach of an answer and an end to his exile. “Tell me. Even if it’s bad.”
She wrinkled her nose, clearly reluctant to share her opinion. “I don’t know you or your father or your situation.”
“But you suspect…”
