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“Nah, keep it,” he played along. “You can use it when you marry Bubba.”
“I don’t even know who Bubba is!” she protested.
“Don’t worry, you can’t miss him,” Nash said, and the way he said it, it didn’t make Vivian feel any better.
“Let me guess, his looks match his namesake,” she said drolly.
“Surprisingly no,” Nash said and scratched his head as if he were confused by the notion.
Vivian grew curious. “Well, then, maybe Gretta is on to something,” she said, searching Nash’s face for a reaction.
She got exactly the one she was hoping for.
“Did I say she had a knack for matchmaking? Because I lied. She’s horrible at it. Look at the time,” he rushed out, and placed his hand at her back, turning and pushing her toward the passenger door. “We should get back so you can start your lesson in making paprikash.”
“Paprikash?” She’d never heard of it before.
“It’s a kind of chicken dish that Gretta serves with noodles. It’s amazing,” he explained.
“Oh…I hope I don’t mess it up,” Vivian worried.
“You can’t. Trust me, it’s easy as pie.”
Climbing into the passenger seat, Vivian looked at Nash as if he’d grown another head—much like he’d done to her soon after her arrival. “Pie is hard!”
“But you breezed right through it.” He winked. “Now buckle up.” Nash closed the door and hurried around the truck before Vivian could say another word.
What had gotten into him? First, he was easygoing and calm. Now all of a sudden he wasrushing around like a chicken with his head cut off—another saying she’d picked up from Gretta.
As he leaped behind the wheel and fired up the engine, backing out of the space expertly but no less slowly, Vivian puzzled over his behavior…until she spotted the sleek black limo two rows down, parked conspicuously near the exit.
She glanced over to find Nash focused on the limo, and when he looked over at her, a silent understanding passed between them. Nash hadn’t wanted her to notice Andrew waiting for her, and she was eternally thankful that he cared enough to try to help her avoid him.
As they coasted out of the lot, past the waiting car with blacked-out windows prohibiting them from meeting the eyes of the man who was no doubt inside watching them, Nash reached across the console and took her hand in his.
Whether it was a show of solidarity or an act of comfort, Vivian didn’t know, but she was grateful to have him by her side.
SEVENTEEN
After dinner, a tired Gretta ushered everyone out of the house, citing her need for peace and quiet. Vivian and Nash had walked out of there filled with doubts and a niggling worry.
“I feel like there’s something she’s not saying,” Vivian confessed as the two of them strolled through the pasture. They’d gone at least a mile already, in comfortable silence. Now, she felt the need to reveal what had been weighing on her mind since the afternoon she’d driven Gretta to the doctor’s office.
“I know,” Nash agreed, “but she’s a grown woman, and she deals with everything in her own time and her own way.”
“So you do think something’s wrong?”
He sighed deeply. “I suspect as much, but she’s not goin’ to say what she doesn’t want anyone to know. Gretta has always been a very private person, despite her proclivity to meddle in other people’s affairs.” He cast her a knowing look.
Vivian stared at the ground, watching each step they took in time with each other. “She’s been extra tired lately.” Though a person might not realize it if they weren’t sharing her personal space like Vivian was each day. Gretta’s mouth was a great disguise for what was going on beneath the surface.
“She isn’t exactly a spring chicken anymore,” Nash pointed out.
“Still. I feel like we didn’t get any real answers after her episode, and she hasn’t said anything toward it since. I doubt it just went away.”
“I’m sure it hasn’t, but like I said, she’s her own person. She’ll ask for help if she needs it. In the meantime, we’ve all just been pulling a little extra weight to be sure.”
Vivian nodded. She’d been doing the same. It seemed Gretta had a lot of people around her who cared for and respected her.
