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“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, Ihaveheard 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.
