She knew it was impossible for everyone and everything to be perfect, but from her perspective, it certainly seemed that way.
No wonder Gretta spent so much time making sure they were all fed before they left for the day. It must have been her way of paying them back for all they did for her. Even though she would have been happy to help out just for the sake of helping, and also as her way of earning her keep, Vivian was even happier to tend the kitchen and household duties now. She felt as if she was part of something bigger, a town-wide effort to uphold one of their own in their time of need.
Had there ever been a nobler cause?
“Have you checked on her recently?” Nash asked low to avoid being overheard. The men had all cleared out, but Lord new Gretta had the ears of a hawk.
“Not since starting breakfast, but she was fine earlier. Just a little tired. She said she’d be up soon.”
He frowned, clearly not liking the sound of that. “I’m going to peek my head inside.”
Vivian tipped her head and watched him go. Yes, Nash was definitely a good man, and it was obvious that he was fond of Gretta. The two had a bond that went back years, according to her, and it was clear that was true.
He returned in a matter of minutes, just as Vivian was placing the last of the plates into the soapy water. “She’s reading her Bible. Said she’ll be out shortly.”
Glad to hear she was awake, Vivian said, “I’ll make some tea.”
“Remember, iced,” Nash said with a playful smile, reminding her of a couple nights ago on his front porch when they’d debated the topic.
“How could I forget?” she mocked, wide-eyed. “I wouldn’t want to risk the wrath of the Southern gods.”
One side of his mouth turning up, Nash replied, “They don’t like being mocked either, darlin’. Might wanna watch that tongue.”
Vivian stuck said tongue out at him.
He rolled his eyes, but she could tell he was amused. “So mature. Have fun in town today.”
With a wave, Nash left her to finish cleaning the kitchen. She made quick work of it, and by the time she had finished, Gretta was moseying out of her room.
Dressed in her housecoat, she held a weathered Bible to her breast and gave Vivian a weak smile. “Damn medicine doc gave me knocks me on my ass,” she said by way of explanation as if Vivian was judging her for rising too late in the day. She glanced around the sparkling kitchen as if hoping there was something left for her to do. “I’m sorry to be so damn lazy lately, makin’ ya do all the work alone.”
Vivian sliced her hand through the air. “No worries at all. It’s the least I can do for you putting me up in your home.”
“It’s no imposition,” Gretta muttered as she shuffled her slippered feet toward the living room. “It’s damn cold today, ain’t it?”
“Almost twenty degrees less than yesterday. Weather girl said to expect a cool down for at least the next week.”
“Fall’s on its way.”
Pouring a fresh glass of tea from a pitcher over a few cubes of ice she’d placed in a glass, Vivian carried the beverage into the living room and waited until Gretta had settled herself into an old recliner and kicked her feet up before handing it to her.
“How do you know fall is on its way?” she queried, although she’d been thinking the same thing just a bit ago.
“Thank you, dear.” She took a few swallows of tea before letting out a satisfied, lip-smacking sigh. “The signs are all over. Have been for weeks.”
Dropping down onto the nearby loveseat, Vivian asked, “What signs?”
“Oh, the usual. Shorter days, longer nights. The song of the cicadas. My tomatas stopped ripening coupla weeks ago. They’ll get one last good burst in ‘em before all’s said and done.” She stared off. “I can’t wait to break out Momma’s favorite fried green tomatoes recipe.”
Vivian watched her old friend as she recalled a distant memory, and waited.
“We should make that this weekend,” Gretta said definitively.
“I’m game. I’ve never had it before, but if you’re making it, then it must be good.”
“You bet your ass it is,” she said with a wink.
“Are you feeling any better?” Vivian asked, growing serious once more.
“Oh, much, dear. Don’t worry. I’m just getting older. I guess I can’t expect to jump to it anymore like I used to. Gotta take things a bit slower these days, as doc said.”
“Are you sure?” Vivian was skeptical. Sure, Gretta wasn’t in her twenties anymore, but it was just last week the woman had been out in her garden after making a giant feast for dinner and playing matchmaker for her and Nash. She didn’t strike Vivian as the type to slow down.
“Oh yes,” she said, her tone and expression suggesting that Vivian’s question was absurd. “Old age might be sneakin’ up on me, but it can’t hold me down. I’m goin’ to go out the same way I came into this life: kickin’ and screamin’.”
Vivian snorted at the mental image. Yep, that definitely sounded like her.
“Nash is worried about you.”
Gretta clucked her tongue. “That man never stops worrying. Of course, he’s experienced his fair share of loss this lifetime, so he’s entitled, but damn! I wish people would stop lookin’ at me like I’ve got one foot already in the grave. When I’m ready to go, I’ll jump in with both feet. Until then, what the hell am I gonna do with one foot?”
Vivian’s head whirled, trying to keep up with her meaning, but she thought she might have gotten the gist of it. “Maybe you can call him later and set his mind at ease.”
Rolling her eyes, Gretta agreed with a little head nod, and then asked, “So have you two set a date yet?”
“What is with you trying to marry us off?” Vivian said, laughing.
“Well, I ain’t gettin’ any younger here. And it ain’t like you two are doin’ anything else with your lives right now. Why not tie the knot?”
“Because we don’t know each other that well yet?”
“Oh pish,” she scoffed. “People who’ve known each other a coupla days get married all the time. You’ve been gettin’ acquainted, what, a coupla weeks now? More? I don’t see any reason to wait. It’s not like you don’t have chemistry. I get burned any time I come within’ two feet of y’all.”
Vivian looked away, blushing. “It’s not like that.”
“It sure as hell is,” Gretta countered. “Sittin’ there lyin’ to an old woman who’s gearin’ up to kick the bucket,” she muttered, lifting the glass of tea to her lips. “Should be ashamed of yourself.”
Vivian’s gaze snapped up in shock.
“Oh, don’t go frettin’ now. It’s just a figure a’speech. I’m old! I could go any day. At least let me have some fun with it.”
“I don’t even know what to say sometimes,” Vivian admitted, her mood lightening.
“With my memory? Neither do I most days, honey.”
“Well, on that note, I should go upstairs and start getting ready.”
“Going out?”
Vivian imparted her plans for the day with Gretta. “And since you’re clearly feeling a bit more like your old self,” she said with a smirk, “I’m guessing you can get by without me for a couple of hours.”
“I certainly can. Take your time. I’ll be right here when you return.”
“Not out plowing fields?” Vivian asked, making sure she wasn’t planning to overdo anything and send herself right back to the doctor’s office.
“Nah, it’s a nice day. I think I’ll take in a good book and breathe the fresh air for a bit.”
“All right.”
Once she reached her bedroom, Vivian slipped into a pair of blue jean capris and a light blouse, leaving her hair down for the first time in a long time and enjoying the feel of it swinging about her shoulders.
On her way back out the door, she called out, “I’ll be back before dinner!” then went on her way.
It felt good to be back in her own car, b
ut as Vivian drove it down the winding road, passing several trucks and a couple of older model sedans, she began to wonder if she really wanted it anymore. It didn’t fit in around here, and it was a constant reminder of everything she was trying to put behind her.
She could sell it. Considering the price it would fetch, she could definitely purchase a small property in the area, furnish it, and maybe even have a bit extra for repairs if needed.
The idea intrigued her and picked at her brain as she parked on the main street in front of a tiny tobacco shop and started her shopping-slash-exploration with the local florist.
The sweet scent of flowers enveloped her as Vivian stepped inside, a charming bell much like the one at the antique shop chiming overhead. Flowers of every size, shape, and color exploded from pastel plastic containers set on tiered displays all around the cramped space. They were so plentiful, it was like walking through a forest. Vivian could hardly figure out where to direct her attention, as it was constantly pulled in all directions, her senses fighting to take it all in at once.
“Can I help you?”
“Oh, I’m just looking.” Vivian smiled at the cashier, an older man with pale skin and a drift of snow-white hair that had thinned enough to show the liver spots dotting his scalp. “You have a stunning collection.”
He seemed pleased by this. “My wife, Agnes, grows them.”
Vivian stared in amazement, then scanned the bounty of flowers once more. “All of them?”
He nodded, venturing around the counter to her side to show her a perfect specimen of white lily. “After I sold the last of the sheep off, oh…’bout fifteen years ago, she turned the land into a flower plantation. Started off with daisies and wildflowers because they were the cheapest and easiest to grow. Eventually, we expanded. Now we have this.”
“You must do amazing business,” she marveled.
“Flowers have been good to us,” he agreed. “What’s your favorite?”
“Peonies,” Vivian said right away. Andrew had always given her roses. He’d never thought to ask her what she really liked.
The stooped man made his way around the center display to a back corner cloaked by ferns and sprays of baby’s breath. In a pot painted a baby blue, Vivian spotted bunches of pale lavender, salmon, cream, and yellow peonies all gathered together in a perfect arrangement.
“We don’t have any pink in yet,” he said, almost as if apologizing, but Vivian was so taken with the vision before her, her only response was, “I’ll take them.”
The man paused and looked back at her. “How many?”
“All of them,” she clarified before she caved to reason. This was a splurge of epic proportions, a treat she’d never allowed herself. At least, not in this manner.
“All of them?”
Vivian grinned. “Yes. All of them.”
“I—uh—sure, of course.” As if he was afraid she would change her mind any second, he grabbed the two large pots the flowers were contained in, denying her assistance, and hauled the load up to the counter to prepare her order. “Do you need delivery?”
Vivian glanced out the slivers of the storefront window that were as yet uncovered and considered it. “I think I can handle it.” Maybe. Well, she’d have to now, wouldn’t she?
It took a good twenty minutes before he had her all squared away and helped her load everything into the back seat, careful not to crush any of the petals.
“You make sure to get those into water as soon as possible now, so they don’t wilt,” he instructed. “Hate to see all that money go to waste.”
“Thank you. I will.”
In fact, Vivian no longer felt the need to be out, too excited to return to the house and get all of her pretties into vases and sprinkled in every room of the house.
Too late, she realized she’d never asked Gretta if she even liked peonies, let alone if she wanted to be inundated with a bunch of them. But then she recalled seeing flowers, all carefully selected and placed with love throughout the house, as well as upstairs as if meant for her late-husband, and thought she’d probably enjoy them. After all, Vivian would be more than happy to let her put as many as she wanted in her special room reserved for her memories.
Feeling light and as close to carefree as a person could get, Vivian’s entire mood was quickly tanked by the vision in pastel strolling leisurely her way.
Andrew.
Narrowing her eyes, she waited for him to get closer, his intent to talk to her clear in the set of his eyes.
“Buying yourself flowers? I would have thought your male friend would be doing that,” he remarked snidely.
“There’s nothing wrong with buying myself something nice. I thought you’d left,” she added.
Andrew cast a look around the street and the storefronts lining it. “I was going to, but…I think it’s growing on me. At first, I thought maybe you’d had a mental breakdown, staying in this hole-in-the-wall town, but now I think I’m starting to see the appeal.”
Vivian was beginning to wonder if she could claim insanity if she ran him over right there and then. It would be the swiftest way to end the bulk of her troubles.
“Just go home, Andrew,” she pleaded, exhaustion in her voice.
“Like I said before, not without you.” The look in his eyes was cold, calculating—the same look he used in the courtroom when he was trying to win a case.
“We’re over. The divorce is final. Done. You’re a lawyer, for crying out loud. What part of that aren’t you understanding?”
“Actually, we’re not,” he insisted, puzzling her. “As I mentioned before, you took off before you could sign the final papers. Nothing has been filed yet.”
So he was serious? Vivian’s forehead wrinkled as she thought back, trying to determine if he was telling the truth or attempting to trick her. Everything had been so chaotic, her thoughts a jumbled mess the day she’d said enough was enough and jumped in her car, headed nowhere.
Vaguely, she recalled her lawyer telling her something about paperwork. He might have said she needed to sign something, but she couldn’t say for certain. “Fine,” she relented. “I’ll call my lawyer first thing Monday morning and get it straightened out.” This time, she wouldn’t forget.
Now, she was done here. If Andrew didn’t want to leave, she would.
Without another word, Vivian opened the car door and stuck her foot inside, but before she could make a full escape, Andrew called out to her. “Are you going to the tractor pull tonight? I’ve never been to one before, but I think I’ll check it out.”
His causal demeanor and overly confident attitude really ticked her off. She didn’t deign to give him an answer.
All Vivian could think as she put Andrew in her rearview mirror was that she was this close to packing up and leaving if it meant never having to see his face again.
It seemed she had a lot of thinking to do.
TWENTY
Vivian was right, as she hadn’t the energy to get out in the garden to harvest any of her own, Gretta was happy to have a load of fresh flowers to decorate the house with. The first order of business was collecting enough mason jars to stuff them in, and then the two of them set about making the house look and smell pretty.
The downstairs held a jar in every room, but it was the second floor that Vivian had been most anticipating.
“I only come up here a couple times a month now,” Gretta was telling her as they climbed the stairs together. She was taking them slowly, and Vivian was matching her pace.
When they reached the top, Gretta led the way, past Vivian’s room, to the door at the end of the hall. “This was our room for forty-two years,” Gretta said as she pulled a ring of old skeleton keys from her housecoat’s pocket and searched for the right one.
Vivian didn’t tell her that she’d already ventured inside that room, knowing it had been an invasion of the woman’s privacy. The fact that she kept the door locked confirmed that she must have forgotten that day, and to tell her she’d
been inside would only upset her more than being there now already clearly was.
The lock made a metallic snap, and Gretta turned the brown tortoiseshell handle, opening the way inside.
“I like to visit Pete from time to time, update him on what’s been happening around here.” Approaching the six-drawer dresser, she placed her jar of flowers on top. “Pete was always was a bit of a gossip,” she said fondly.
Vivian would bet that wasn’t entirely true. Gretta was a pretty big one herself. If Pete had been anything like the men she’d met so far, he’d probably just joined her for entertainment.
“You haven’t seen my Pete,” Gretta stated as she picked up a frame and carried it over to where Vivian was standing.
Vivian clutched the jar of flowers she’d brought up to include with Gretta’s, as a kind of offering of respect, and angled her head so she could see better around them. “He was handsome.”
The photo was in black and white, but the detail was clear. It was an earlier photo than the one she’d seen before. Vivian would guess Pete was average height with a stocky build beneath a pair of dark tweed pants with a pleat running down the front of both legs and held up by striped suspenders overtop a white collared shirt. He had dark hair, combed neatly to one side, the shine of whatever salve he’d used to keep it in place catching the sun. He wore a fond smile reserved for the person behind the camera, which Vivian guessed was Gretta.
Gretta’s smile was wide and full of love. “Oh, he was the catch of the town back then,” she said as one bony finger petted the image of his dark head of hair. “All the girls were after him, but he only had eyes for one.”
Vivian smiled. “You.”
“No, Meredith Clinton, that tramp.” In typical Gretta fashion, what came out of her mouth was completely unexpected.
“Gretta!” Vivian choked on a laugh.
“Well she was!” she protested, then scowled. “Fine, she wasn’t. She was actually the preacher’s daughter. Gah! I swear she was too perfect to be real. Every hair in place, always a new dress, big tits, narrow waist. We all hated her.”
“Ohmygod.” Vivian was shaking her head in disbelief.
Finding Home (Roped by the Cowboy Duet Book 1) Page 13