Gretta’s words struck Vivian right in the chest. She hadn’t realized until that very moment that she had, in fact, been standing in her own way. Or at least attempting to. It was so easy to adopt a defeatist attitude and make it your mantra, but in the end, she would only hurt herself more than Andrew had, wouldn’t she?
With misty eyes, Vivian helped finish the kitchen before retreating to her room on the second floor for a much-needed timeout.
TEN
Dinner was just as challenging as breakfast, especially since Vivian hadn’t counted on making it. When Gretta called her down at five p.m., she’d just assumed the woman wanted a hand. Instead, Gretta had plopped her little rump down on a chair and told her what to do, step by step, for over an hour.
Surprisingly enough, dinner was even more involved and exhausting than breakfast. Of course, since it was all a crash course for Vivian, and since Miss Gretta had the idea that everything had to be made from scratch, she’d gone the long way about it all. The pie had been the worst. Never again would Vivian take one for granted. The sheer amount of time and skill it took to handle the dough alone was mindboggling. The lesson she took from today: cooking from scratch was hard work!
But boy was it ever rewarding.
Thankfully, the mess she’d made hadn’t stained her clothes, thanks to the cute apron Gretta lent her. Faded from years of use, it had a picture of a drawing printed on the chest of a penguin standing in snow—something Nash had drawn for her when he was a kid.
Despite turning the kitchen into a disaster area, dinner had been a success. Of course, a few of the dumplings had turned out either too stiff or too doughy, but the ones she’d cooked just right were delicious. And the chicken breasts, boiled first to support the dumplings, then seasoned and grilled under the broiler till they were tender enough to fall off the bone were amazing. And the pie…Well, that had been above and beyond. Those tender apples mixed with cinnamon and sugar had satisfied any possible craving she could have had. And the men without families who decided to join them before heading home had given her their rave reviews.
“Maybe dinner is more your speed,” Nash complimented—at least she decided to take it as a compliment.
Vivian smiled as she cleared the last of the plates from the old farm table and carried them to the deep sink basin that, in the city, would have cost a hefty sum. Here, she’d bet it was just as commonplace as the shabby chic décor that was also en vogue back home. There, she’d never understood the appeal of the rustic style, but here it worked. Maybe because it was a result of years of love and life etched into every chip of paint and scratch and scuff on the wood. Whatever it was, it just felt…cozy.
“You did a mighty fine job tonight, dear,” Gretta said as she washed up the dishes.
“Thanks, Ms. Gretta, but I never could have done it without you.”
“You mean without my constant harping?” she teased.
“Exactly.” The truth was the truth. If the woman hadn’t stayed on top of her the entire time, Vivian probably would have burned down the house.
“Everyone needs a little instruction sometime, somewhere,” Gretta said as she rinsed a plate. “It’s all part of life and learnin’. Can’t learn nothin’ if there ain’t no one willin’ to teach— Ah!”
The cry and gasp weren’t loud, but they were sharp and sudden enough that Vivian and Nash were instantly at her side, filled with concern.
“What’s wrong?” Vivian asked, looking for any sign of injury. Had she cut herself on a knife? Was the water too hot? Too cold?
But no, when she looked at Nash, Vivian realized it was much worse than that. Gretta was holding her fist to her chest.
“Vivian,” Nash said, his voice calm but strained, “I need you to go to Ms. Gretta’s room and get her pills from the nightstand. Could you do that for me?”
“Y-yes. Yes, of course,” she stammered and hurried off.
Thankfully, they were easy to find, and she was able to hurry back in moments. Nash had taken Gretta into the living room and was in the process of sitting her down on a flower-patterned loveseat next to the cold hearth that she’d bet emitted plenty of warmth during frosty winter evenings.
“Here you are.” Vivian thrust the box she’d found at him, and he took it with a grateful look in his eye. There was no smile this time, though, because they were both scared.
“How often has this been happening?” he asked Gretta as he opened the box and popped a white oblong pill from the foil package. It reminded Vivian of a Tylenol, but she knew it was much more important than that.
“Oh now and then. Nothing to worry yourself about.” Gretta tried to downplay it. Nash’s expression said he wasn’t buying it.
“What does the doctor have to say about this?”
Gretta tossed back the pill and swallowed down some water from a glass that had been sitting on the table. “He doesn’t know nothin’ about it, and he doesn’t need to,” she said forcefully.
“Now, Ms. Gretta—”
“Now, Ms. Gretta, nothin’,” she snapped and jumped to her feet, pushing Nash out of her way. “I don’t need no one makin’ a fuss over me. I’m old, not feeble, and I can look after my own health.”
“Fine, have it your way,” Nash snapped back. “But if you drop dead from a heart attack, don’t come cryin’ ta me!”
Vivian refrained from pointing out the problem with his logic. Instead, she tried to make herself as small as she could standing in the archway and remain out of it. She had a feeling this wasn’t a new argument for them, and she didn’t feel she had earned a place in the middle of it either.
“Vivian,” Gretta said, turning to her, “would you please tell the man that I am not a child and I didn’t survive seventy-eight years and a pain-in-the-ass husband to sit here and be told what to do by someone a quarter my age.”
“Vivian,” Nash added, “would you please tell Ms. Gretta that being a pain in my ass more than qualifies me to stick my nose in any-damn-well-where I please?”
Vivian’s gaze jumped from Nash to Gretta, unsure who to address without exacerbating the problem. It was apparent, no matter who she sided with, she was going to upset someone, and tensions were already running too high for her comfort.
But Nash saved her from having to say anything. “You’re gonna make a call to the doc, or I’ll do it for you. I don’t want to hear any more fuss about it, Ms. Gretta. It isn’t up for discussion.”
Vivian expected more arguing, more raised voices, but Gretta just glared Nash down, her lips pressed into a mulish line. She reminded Vivian of a child who’d been bested and knew it but wasn’t ready to give up the fight, yet knew better than to keep it going.
Nash appeared to understand that as well. With a firm nod, he stepped back from the woman and, with angry tugs, rolled his sleeves up each arm. “Now I’ve got work that needs tendin’. I’ll be back ‘round lunchtime, and I’d better hear that you called and got somethin’ scheduled.”
Gretta grunted and turned her face away, mumbling under her breath. Nash turned to leave, his gaze colliding with Vivian’s.
“See to it she makes that call,” he ordered, then brushed by and out the front door.
Vivian lingered a moment longer. “He’s just worried,” she said, her words meeting silence. She went on. “So am I. I know you’re stubborn and are used to doing things for yourself, but I agree with Nash; you should make that appointment. It would hurt a lot of people if something bad happened to you.”
As the words left her lips, Vivian realized that she wasn’t just talking about the farmhands. Gretta had come to mean something to her, too. If she had dropped dead in that kitchen today, she would have been heartbroken. Maybe not as much as the rest of the people in town, but she had grown an attachment to the feisty old lady, who’d taken a chance on a stranger and welcomed her into her home and life with open arms.
“You all worry too damn much,” Gretta grumbled, refusing to look her way. That was fine. Vivian knew
how hard it was to admit defeat. Humiliating was what it was.
“Can I get you anything?” she offered.
“Just time alone so I can rest in peace,” Gretta stated.
Any other time, Vivian would have returned with something sarcastic, but she left this one alone. Watching Gretta stare into the dark fireplace, her thoughts likely turned inward, she gave her what she wanted and turned away and headed back to the kitchen to find something else to clean, while Gretta rested in the living room and collected her thoughts and sense of independence again.
ELEVEN
It was mid-afternoon by the time Vivian entered the town and parked Gretta’s little station wagon she’d insisted on taking in the parking lot outside of the doctor’s office located on the main street. It was one of those little town roads that cut right through the center, with a few essential shops, a bank, the sheriff’s station, and the doctor’s office all sandwiched together, putting everything a person might need within walking distance.
“Do you want me to go in with you?”
Gretta cut her weathered hand through the air and hobbled her way up to the curb and toward the entrance, a single recessed door set between two bay windows, marked clearly in black letters:
Dr. J. Kutter, MD
Family Practice
Below that was a list of emergency and non-emergency hours. Inside, the blinds were open to allow in the afternoon sunlight, showing off a clean and surprisingly modern waiting room with two people waiting amongst the sea of chairs to be seen.
“I’m fine by myself. Go explore. Buy something nice for yourself. Eat a sandwich. Lord knows you’re too damn skinny,” Gretta said over her shoulder as she opened the door, a bell chiming her arrival.
Then Vivian was alone, standing beside the wagon, with no idea what to do with herself for who knew how long.
Then she spotted a quaint little vintage shop at the end of the street and thought, in keeping with her adventure, she might try another something new for a change.
The Thrifty Housewife was a tall red-brick building decorated with scrolled iron hooks and lush hanging ferns, clay pots filled with splashes of colorful petunias, and two white-painted rocking chairs on its front stoop. The hand-painted sign in delicate gold lettering was just the touch of whimsy it needed to finish off the look of a small-town store.
Vivian was smiling as she entered the shop and, again, a little brass bell chimed overhead, announcing her presence to the woman who was fanning a stack of business cards on a tin tray behind the counter.
Her dark brown pigtails whipped about as her head popped up. “Oh, hello there!” She paused, taking Vivian in from head to toe, then her expression brightened impossibly further. “You must be the new girl in town I’ve heard so much about.”
Vivian had no idea how to respond to that. “Um…yeah, I guess that’s me. And you must be…I’m sorry,” she said with a chuckle, “I have no idea who you are.”
“Oh, I highly doubt that.” Coming around the counter, she motioned Vivian farther inside as she started tidying up the displays of knickknacks, making sure each one sat just so on the shelves. “I’m the one who runs the online sex shop,” she informed.
Shocked, Vivian took another look at the woman. She was petite, dressed in a patchwork maxi dress that represented every possible color and pattern. Tied around her waist was a leather belt of some kind with long strings hanging down from it like fringe or tassels. Maybe both. She wore Birkenstocks, and when you added in the pigtails? Well, Vivian would almost call her a hippie. At least, that was the impression she gave.
Still, she wouldn’t have thought her a sex store owner.
“Ah, yes, I have heard a bit about you,” she admitted.
“I’m sure. It’s one of those controversial things around here.” She rolled her eyes. “As if every single person in this town hasn’t had sex or expanded beyond missionary.”
“Oh yeah, um, I bet.” Vivian cleared her throat and inspected a rather lovely dream catcher with blue and white feathers dangling from it.
“Out of curiosity, have you ever used toys before?”
Vivian looked cautiously up at her. “You mean…”
“Dildos, vibrators, lubricants,” she expounded.
Vivian felt her face grow red. She had never, ever spoken about sex with anyone before. Not really. Sure, some of the women in her social circle chatted about it sometimes, but she mostly just listened and laughed along with them. It wasn’t something she’d ever felt comfortable sharing personally.
“Oh, you poor thing,” the woman cooed, taking her silence and obvious discomfort as answer enough. “I tell you what,” she said, rushing behind the counter and stooping down.
Vivian watched curiously from her place across the room as she listened to her rummage around for something. When she popped back up, her brown eyes danced with excitement, and she hurried around to Vivian, thrusting her hand out.
“The next time you find yourself in a position to use it, try this.”
Vivian opened her hand out of reflex and just plain good manners, and the woman dropped a travel-sized bottle into her palm. Vivian frowned. “Is this…lubricant?”
“The best kind! It reacts with your body temperature and provides a cooling and warming effect, heightening sensations and sensitivity for both partners, and I don’t have to tell you what that means. Orgasms!” she said giddily. Grabbing both of Vivian’s hands in hers, she squeezed. “I can’t tell you how many fantastic romps I’ve had with this stuff,” she confessed, her voice a conspiratorial whisper.
Vivian was beyond embarrassed, her face flaming hot. She was just thankful that they were the only two in the store. “Um, that’s…great?”
“You’re skeptical. That’s okay. Once you try it, you’ll be saying, ‘Jenna, give me more of that jelly!’ Just you wait ‘n see.” She winked knowingly and headed back to the display she’d been working on, turning a porcelain cat a scant inch to the left.
Vivian’s head was whirling. This woman was something else! She’d never met anyone so confident in their sexuality. No wonder people were talking. She had no doubt ruffled their feathers—in a good way.
Putting the bottle of lube into her purse, she wandered around the space, checking out its wares. “You have a lot of nice stuff,” she told her, taking a closer look at a quill paired with an embossed silver inkwell. “Have you been in business long?”
“It’s a family business, actually. My grandfather opened it back in the thirties, and my mom and dad took over after his stroke in the seventies. When they retired, it was passed down to me. It survived the Depression, wars, economic downturns. No matter the age, people always love a deal.”
“That’s impressive. So business is good?”
Jenna gave her a what-do-you-think look. “Especially in the summer when the county participates in the state-wide garage sale and flea market thing. People from all over the country pass through here buying up as many antiques and collectibles as they can find.”
Vivian’s eyebrows arched. “That must be a sight.”
“I tell ya, you think the people in this town are strange? There are some interesting characters out there.”
Vivian hadn’t and wouldn’t say that much, but she understood her meaning. “I’m from Chicago. You haven’t seen strange until you’ve gone out after midnight in the city.”
“I don’t know much about Chicago, but I’ve always wanted to visit New York.” Jenna surprised her. “I hear the Big Apple is amazing. Expensive, but not to be missed. It’s on my bucket list.”
Vivian picked up a set of wooden spoons, one engraved with ‘Shit stirrer’ in the dip used to scoop up food, and carried it to the counter. “You want to travel?”
“Are you kidding? I want to see the world,” Jenna effused. “Isn’t that what brought you all the way out here?”
“Not exactly,” Vivian shared, knowing it was a topic that would invite questions. “Sometimes life doesn’t go your way,
so I decided to explore my options, see what else was out there waiting for me.”
Jenna’s smile was positively bursting. She took the spoons and typed their price into the old-fashioned cash register. “Adventurous. We need more people like you around here. These small towns can get oppressively stale. Two dollars.”
Vivian pulled the money from her wallet and accepted the plastic bag stamped with the shop’s name in exchange. “The pace is a little harder to get used to, but I’m enjoying it so far.”
“You’re staying with Gretta, right?” Jenna asked as Vivian slowly made her way toward the exit.
“Yeah, she gave me a room for as long as I want it.”
“Good. She could use someone to keep her company. We don’t say it much, but we all worry about her being all alone up there in that big old house ever since Pete passed and she had the heart attack.”
Mystery solved. Vivian nodded as if she fully understood. “I’m glad I can help,” she offered, not really sure she was much help at all.
“Well, you take care, and make sure to tell Gretta hello for me.”
“I sure will,” Vivian promised. “Thanks for the spoons.”
“Anytime. Don’t be a stranger.”
Waving, Vivian let herself out and made her way back to the wagon, where she saw Gretta already waiting in the passenger seat.
“Done already?” she questioned as she climbed into the driver’s side. “I hope you haven’t been waiting too long.” She handed the bag to her.
“I told you all that it wasn’t no big deal,” Gretta huffed, casting Vivian a pensive look as she opened the bag. “Doc said I’m just fine.” Withdrawing the spoons, she read the engraving and hooted. “These are fantastic! Thank you, dear.”
Vivian nodded as she put the car in reverse and backed out of the spot. “You’re welcome. And I’m glad the appointment went well.” Still, she wondered about the episode she’d had in the kitchen. “Did he run any tests or anything? Adjust your medication?”
Finding Home (Roped by the Cowboy Duet Book 1) Page 7