THREE
Vivian hadn’t counted on everyone being so friendly. Or so trusting. Was the whole town like this? She had to wonder because as soon as she’d paid for the gas and handed the empty container to the attendant with instructions to return it to Jack, the woman behind the counter had asked her for a favor.
“I’ve been expecting you,” she’d said as soon as Vivian walked through the door. Jack must have called ahead. “Would you be a dear and drop this off at a friend’s for me?” she asked, passing Vivian a cherry pie that looked and smelled homemade.
“Umm, you don’t know me,” she pointed out, feeling completely out of place. Was this all a big joke? Was she on Candid Camera? For real, no one could be this nice or this trusting. Never in all her years had she met a single person, much less two, who was so overtly friendly. They acted as if she was their friend.
“You seem like a nice young woman. I trust you.” She pointed toward the door. “It’s on your way, and you’ll be saving me time.”
Even though she wanted to, Vivian couldn’t bring herself to tell the woman no. “Where do I go?”
The woman grinned, as if she’d just won an argument. One she’d expected to win all along. “Just keep heading south down that road. It’s the big white house on the right. Can’t miss it. Tell ‘em Betty sent you.”
Betty. Sure. “Okay, Betty,” Vivian said with a touch of doubt. “I’ll be sure it gets there safely.”
“Thank you, dear.” As Vivian started back out the door toward her car, Betty called after her. “You should stick around a couple days, explore the town. We could always do with more good people like yourself around here.”
“Thanks, but I’m just passing through,” Vivian told her candidly. Besides the ocean, she had no idea where she was headed, but she hadn’t planned on stopping anytime soon, figuring she’d just head east for a bit and see where she ended up later.
With another wish for safe travels, Vivian was off down the road toward her next unplanned destination. It took her less than thirty minutes to find it, and as it was the only white house—the only house, period—she’d come across, she figured it had to be the one she was looking for.
Pulling off the dirt road onto the packed-gravel drive, she made the long trek up to the house set back a ways from the road, pulling to a stop in front of the wide wooden porch. Two rocking chairs sat on either side of the double plantation-style doors outfitted with weathered, green painted screen doors that matched the wide shutters on all the windows, giving the place an old, rustic but cozy feel.
Just what she’d always imagined a farmhouse would feel like. Except she’d never been out of the city to see one in person.
Grabbing the pie from the passenger seat, she climbed out of her expensive Porsche that suddenly felt too lavish for such a downhome place and approached the front door, her high heels clomping against the wood almost obscenely.
They announced her before she had a chance to knock, apparently, because a short shadow filled the doorway.
“Hi,” Vivian said as friendly as she could, despite her nerves playing havoc on her. “Betty sent me—”
“I know. She called ahead.” The old woman who was at least eighty—and looked every bit of it—pushed the screen door aside and said, “The kitchen is this way. You can leave it on the counter.”
She didn’t even try to argue with the woman. Stepping inside the old farmhouse, Vivian took in the décor of colorful woven area rugs, antique furniture, aged photographs of family members that spanned generations. The kitchen itself was dated but clean, with a real butcher-block island and one of those giant metal sink basins overlooking the rear of the property.
Vivian set the pie on the island, her attention drawn to that window, to the picturesque scenery beyond. The sun was starting to set, setting the sky off in brilliant colors of purples, pinks, and oranges that, coupled with the acres of field and tall grasses and old trees, made it look like a Bob Ross painting.
“I love watching the horses run while I wash dishes,” the woman said, breaking into Vivian’s thoughts.
“It’s a gorgeous view. You can’t buy anything like it in the city.”
“I knew you were a city girl the moment I saw ya,” the old woman said, appraising her. “Which city?”
“Chicago.”
This elicited the same reaction Jack had. “Kind of far from home, aren’t ya?”
Vivian merely nodded. “I needed a change of scenery.”
The woman stared into her eyes, intelligence and understanding reflecting back at her. “Well, you came to the right place.”
“Oh, I’m just passing through,” Vivian said yet again. Three times in as many hours. She was starting to feel like a broken record.
“Nonsense,” the woman said, waving her off as if she’d just said the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. “It’s getting late. A young woman like yourself shouldn’t be driving around at night, especially in unknown places. You’ll stay here.”
Shocked, her head spinning from the sudden change in conversation, Vivian scrambled to catch up to the woman who was now retreating from the room faster than her weathered body seemed capable.
“I appreciate the offer, but I couldn’t impose,” she argued.
“No imposition at all. My late husband and I used to run this place as a bed and breakfast before he went and kicked the bucket. Now, I just offer up a room now and then when someone’s in need.” She threw a smile over her shoulder as she reached the stairs and rounded the carved banister. “Humor an old woman, would ya? I don’t get company too often these days.” Vivian hesitated, feeling pity for the woman. “Besides, I make a killer breakfast. Not what my old Pete died from, I assure you. That was the tobacco and whiskey habit I’d warned him off of for years.” She started ascending the steps. “Come, bedrooms are this way. There are six. Mine’s on the first floor now, so you can have your pick.”
The pressure was on yet again. How could Vivian say no to such a nice and generous offer? So…she would stay. Just one night because she was tired and a homemade breakfast didn’t sound too bad, and it saved her some money, too, but then she would be on her way.
To not be a pain in the ass, she chose the first room at the top of the stairs, and if it was even half as nice as the rest of them, she was amazed.
Decorated in soft blue and white linens with matching checkered drapes dressing two windows poised on either side of the enormous bed, the room was stuffed with rich antique wooden furniture and accented with soft touches of home: an old wash basin, brass candlestick holders, crystal vase stuffed with a spray of real wildflowers…
If she didn’t know better, Vivian would think the woman had been expecting her and cut them just for her. The pride-filled smile the woman wore, though, made her think she probably cut fresh flowers for each room daily, just to keep things nice.
“This is beautiful,” Vivian complimented her. “You have an amazing home.”
“Thank you. I decorated it myself.”
“You have a good eye.” Hell, in the city, people paid hundreds of thousands to achieve a similar effect, but Vivian could honestly say she’d never seen it this well done. Authentic was definitely the key.
Getting on with it, the woman shuffled over to the bed and turned down the blankets, then made her way to each window, drawing the curtains. “Even in the country, you gotta watch out for peeping Toms.” She winked. “I’ll be downstairs, so you know where to find me if you need anything. Food is in the fridge. Help yourself. As they say down south, mi casa es su casa,” she said with a chuckle.
Vivian couldn’t help smiling at her sense of humor. She seemed like a delightful old woman. “I didn’t catch your name,” she said before the woman could slip away.
“It’s Gretta. And you would be…”
“Vivian.”
“That’s a name you don’t hear too often. But fitting,” she said, giving her the once-over.
That’d happened to her so many times today, Vivian could form a complex if she allowed herself, but she liked her name, and she knew she wasn’t ugly. It was probably just the way people did things around here—inspecting the newcomers.
“Thank you for your hospitality, Ms. Gretta. I promise not to be a bother any more than I already have, and I’ll be out of your hair first thing in the morning.”
“Psssh. Nonsense. It’s no bother, and you’ll hang around long enough to get a proper meal.” She narrowed cloudy eyes at her. “Promise you won’t go sneaking out of here soon as the sun rises?”
Vivian laughed. “I haven’t been up with the sun since…well, never.”
“Good. I beat that old rooster to the punch every day so you wouldn’t have stood a chance. At least I won’t have to stand guard.” She winked playfully then got on her way. “Good night, dear. Sleep well.”
“You too.” Once she was alone, Vivian sat down on the bed and slipped her heels off. Exhaustion came crashing down on her like a two-ton boulder, and even if she wanted to, she didn’t have enough energy to go out to her car for her luggage, which sucked, because it was hotter than Hades with the only source of relief coming from the lukewarm breeze blowing through the two open windows. Of course, a house this old wouldn’t have central air. She groaned. It was going to be a long night.
Having never slept in anything but pajamas before, it looked like tonight was going to be yet another new experience in a long line of them. As she laid down on top of the covers and closed her eyes, she replayed the events of the day, thinking of how much her life had changed, how far away from home she was… She was without a plan, the future unmapped for the first time in her life.
And she was terrified.
That was the first and only time she’d admit it. She was afraid of the road ahead. There’d always been someone at her side or behind her, pushing and guiding, designing the next step, and the next. Now she was in freefall, with little money and resources, no friends, no family. It was just her and the car she’d packed with everything she could manage.
I can consider this an exciting new chapter in my life, one I can do whatever I want with…or I can be weak and wallow in misery over everything I’ve lost and will never have again.
So she’d been a kept woman all her life, part of the privileged upper class from the day she was brought into this world, but one thing she’d never been was weak. In moments, yes, but to live in her world, a person had to develop a thick skin. They had to be tough, resilient, or the world would chew them up and spit them out.
Vivian was a survivor. If she could overcome anything, it would be this. She was a city girl, and if that hadn’t broken her, then a little open countryside sure as hell wasn’t going to either.