Prologue

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May 1986

"Good evening, everyone. I'm Rebecca Taylor and tonight, we have a very special guest joining us. Please welcome retired guitarist and founder of the Stephanie fund, Lindsey Buckingham." The stage lights blinded him in a familiar sensation, though lacking the deafening applause, as he grew closer to the stage. Sitting on the tufted armchair, he attempted a smile, sparing a small wave for the assumed viewers.

"Lindsey, thank you so much for joining us tonight, and on such a special occasion."

"Thank you for having me."

"Of course, our pleasure. What have you been up to? Apart from today's significance for you I'm sure, how are you doing?"

"Ah," he said uneasily, put off from the seeming insensitivity of such a question, "well I've been keeping busy, especially with Stephanie project."

"Speaking of—tell us more about the Stephanie project, what's happening with that right now?"

"Well, it all started as a fund. After I finished with the band, I needed something to...give me new purpose. It wasn't just people like me and her close friends who knew her well, but she um she touched so many people in her short time and this idea felt like a good way to...channel all the grief so many of us were feeling in that aftermath. And the Betty Ford center near Joshua Tree was relatively new at that point so we started working with her people as sort of a way to spread the message. But in the past few years, the support has just been overwhelming so next week, I'll actually be going to Arizona for the opening of a center in Sedona, just an hour or so from where she grew up which will be...very special."

"Mhm, that's just wonderful. Will the Nicks also be joining you at this opening?"

"Oh, definitely. Jess and Barbara have always been like family, but especially in the past few years, their support has been invaluable. Truly two of the best people I know." After going back and forth with more pleasantries, the interviewer finally paused.

"Now, please, feel free to get as personal or not personal as you wish with this last question-" He took a breath, bracing himself.

"How do you think your work here has been changing Stevie's legacy?"

"Well I wouldn't want to presume anything about what she would think. But I-I mean I met her when I was sixteen years old. We lived on dreams for a long time and so I know- all she really wanted was to touch people with her music. She thrived on that human connection, and her fans really meant everything to her. So I think, I hope she would be happy with the work we're doing, to help people in her name."

"What a beautiful response. I'm sure she'd be very proud. Thank you so much for joining us today."

"Thank you for the invitation." He stood, shaking her hand before exiting the stage.

"And thank you everyone for joining us for our special program in remembrance of Stevie Nicks, as today marks the third anniversary of her untimely passing. We will be back soon with musical contributions from dear friends like Don Henley, Tom Petty, and more." He subtly wiped at his eyes as he heard the end of her conclusion.

It's been three years, and the sound of her name still brings tears to your eyes. 

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A week later, Lindsey stood with the glaring Arizona sun in his eyes. Though it was only May, already the rising temperatures were hinting at the brutal summer to come. While he had hoped to avoid making a speech, as president of the organization he couldn't attend without saying a few words. Nervously smoothly the end of the his sports jacket, he took the podium when gestured. He removed his sunglasses, looking out into the audience.

"Good afternoon, everyone. Thank you so much for joining us today despite the wonderful weather we're having. As many of you know, I'm Lindsey Buckingham, and I founded the Stephanie fund a little over two years ago. We have gathered here on this particular afternoon because thirty eight years ago today, Stephanie Lynn Nicks was born. Stevie was...a special kind of person. Her sense of self and endless energy—her laughter could brighten a room. She was everything to me for a very long time. But there came a time when it was very difficult for her to find that inner light that we all loved so much. And...and she was gone before we could help her get it back. And so, the opening of the Stephanie Nicks Addiction Treatment Center really represents a significant step in our effort to make sure that others, who are going through what Stevie did, are also receiving the treatment and support that they need. I cannot thank you all enough for your help and support these past few years—none of our amazing achievements would have been possible without you. I know she would appreciate everything we have done here. Thank you." The end of his speech was met with polite applause as he maneuvered down the steps, finding the Nicks. Jess grasped his shoulder in support and comfort. Barbara looked up at him with tears in her eyes.

"That was a wonderful speech you made for her, Lindsey." Grasping her hands in appreciation, he returned her watery smile.

"I'm glad you liked it."

"Teedee would be proud of what you've done here. We all are," Jess remarked. Lindsey nodded his head, looking down. Jess was like a father to him, and their praise still meant so much. Becoming more emotional, Barbara continued.

"I know she was...troubled towards the end. But she always loved you, Lindsey. She loved you so much." Lindsey felt the tears burning in his eyes.

"I know." If only they knew.

Comforting his wife, Jess quickly changed the subject before they got too emotional.

"You're visiting us for the holidays, yes? Because I won't hear of it any other way."

"Yes, sir." He replied with a smile, taken back to the days where Jess Nicks's commanding voice inspired fear unlike anything else. As it would, when you were the young man living in sin with his only daughter. So much wonderful fantastic breathtaking sin.

"Good man. Well then we'll see you in a few months. Don't be a stranger!"

"Goodbye dear," Barbara added as they made their way into the crowd.

"I won't." He said softly, knowing they would be able to hear him.

As soon as they left, he made his way to the bar, leaving the festivities to those who were hopeful about the new center and not still grieving for the woman in whose memory it had been created.

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