Chapter Seven
“I should plant some gaura or butterfly bush or whatever it’s called,” says Grandma, nodding to the garden across the road. “Awilda’s looks lovely and healthy. It obviously likes the climate.”
“Pretty.”
Her head turns this way and that, inspecting the rest of the street. “And that’s Rose’s ex’s car parked outside their house. I wonder if they had a sleepover.”
“You mean a hookup?”
“I said what I said.” She drinks her coffee. “They made such a nice couple and seemed so happy. I wouldn’t object to them getting back together.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
She chuckles.
“I have a theory that the only people who know how or why a relationship works are the people in the relationship, and then not even them sometimes.”
“You probably have a point,” she says.
“Did you ever want that? To have a significant other?”
“I wanted it very much with your grandfather. It broke my heart when he died and your mother was so young. Life became all about working to keep a roof over our heads.” She falls silent for a time.
“I don’t think I ever really trusted the universe enough to try again.
And I’ve always been happy enough on my own. ”
We’re sitting on the front porch again with our coffees the next morning.
Grandma is hiding her eyes behind a pair of sunglasses.
She went out shortly after Nash’s announcement yesterday afternoon and didn’t return home until the early hours.
I’m not saying she went on a bender, however, the evidence suggests as much.
It would seem she has more in common with the country music rock’n’roll lifestyle than she’d like to admit.
She was, after all, a part of the fast-paced world that she’s been warning me about for a decade or so.
“What do you think made you and Grandpa such a good match?” I ask.
“We were both too stubborn to give up. That didn’t hurt.
First we figured out how to fight. Then we worked out what was worth fighting for and when one of us needed to give.
” She stares contemplatively out at the garden.
“He used to make me laugh so hard, and he often had such fascinating insights into things. And even just holding his hand made the world seem somehow better.”
“I’m glad you had that. And I’m sorry he was taken from you.”
Grandma takes a deep breath. “Me too, dear.”
“It would be hard to replace.”
“There’s no replacing your grandfather,” she says. “So many years have passed. I do get lonely now and then.”
“You’ve never been tempted to try a dating app?”
“Can you imagine?” She laughs.
“Some people have more than one great love in their life. Or it might just be about companionship.”
She makes a dismissive noise. “Are you on a dating app?”
“Not right now.”
“Give yourself time,” she says. “I thought I might’ve met someone once. But it wasn’t to be.”
“You never told me this.”
She gives me a quick smile. “There’s a lot of things I haven’t told you. Stick around and you’ll no doubt hear everything eventually.”
“I’d like that.”
“So would I.”
I cross my legs and get comfortable. This sort of conversation with trust and openness has been missing from my life for a while now. It feels good to be here with Grandma. “What was this person like…the one who was a maybe?”
“Your grandfather worked for an architectural firm and liked wearing suits. He was nothing like this other man.”
“Was he nice to you?”
There’s no answer for a moment. Then she says, “He wasn’t always nice. But he was always kind. I think that’s more important, don’t you?”
“Yeah. You met him while you were working for Nash?”
Grandma just frowns. Guess I shouldn’t have said his name. She still hasn’t recovered from his news.
The man himself is out at his morning meditation or jogging group or whatever.
She turns her head toward the larger house next door.
There’s a Japanese maple, a graceful birch, and other established trees on the property blocking much of the view of the building.
The privacy of the place makes it a smart choice for him.
We can, however, see open windows over there and a van parked in the driveway. Guess it’s the original owners clearing out their things ahead of selling the place.
“I wasn’t lying when I said I loved him,” she says. Nash is obviously on both our minds. “After ten years of working for him and cleaning up his messes, however, I was ready for a nice long break. But if he’s bought a house here then his various friends are bound to visit also.”
“Grandma, is this man you’re talking about one of his friends? Is that why him buying next door freaked you out so badly?”
“What do you young people say? It’s complicated?” She sighs. “Another part of me wants to keep Nash close so I can keep an eye on him. Make sure he’s eating and sleeping properly. Once when I was on vacation, he existed on nothing but carrot cake for a week.”
“I guess it has a vegetable and walnuts in it.”
“So he claimed,” she says. “I’m probably worrying about nothing. He won’t be able to stay away from the bright lights forever. The Bend will bore him eventually. It’s only a matter of time.”
“You think so?”
“I know so. He’s been constantly on the move for as long as I’ve known him. It’s the only way he knows how to live.”
I don’t mean to frown. There is unfortunately one on my face.
And Grandma frowns back at me. “You haven’t gotten attached to him, have you? As I’ve said several times before, it wouldn’t be wise.”
“We’re just friends.”
She ponders this for a moment. “He had his guitar out last night.”
“Did he?” I ask in surprise. “I went to sleep early and didn’t hear him.”
“It’d disappeared by the time I got up this morning,” she says.
“That’s the first time I’ve seen it since he got here.
The first interest he’s shown in music, now that I think about it.
He used to constantly walk around wearing headphones.
Getting his attention was a nightmare. But there hasn’t been any sight of them so far this trip. ”
“Interesting. Maybe he needed a break from music as a whole.”
“You might well be right,” she says. “But if he’s started playing guitar then it wouldn’t surprise me if he starts writing songs again soon.
It’s in the boy’s blood. He can’t help himself.
Life seems to be just songs waiting to happen for him.
Then he’ll want to share those with the world. It’s just how he is.”
My stomach doesn’t twist and turn at the thought. I just have gas or something. “Makes sense.”
“I overreacted to him buying the house next door.” She nods to herself. “He probably won’t turn up more than once every few years. Everything will be fine.”
Which is when a shiny, luxury midsize SUV comes to a stop outside the house. And it’s followed by a delivery truck. The big bow on the hood of the SUV is odd, to say the least. Not something you see outside of a car sales yard.
The driver of the SUV is a man in a pair of chinos and a polo shirt. He comes down the front garden path with a skip in his step. It matches the broad smile on his face. “June Callaway?”
“Yes?”
“No need to get up, miss. You keep on resting right there.” He hands me the car fob.
“This Volvo is one of the safest vehicles on the road today, and we hope you drive many happy miles in it. We’ve already fitted the car seats in the back for you.
They’re also top of the line and safety-wise, the best we could find for you. ”
I don’t know what to say. So I say, “Wow. This is really not necessary.”
“Mr. Farmer insisted we make sure you have anything you might need,” says the man.
Grandma clears her throat. “How very kind of the record company.”
“Do you normally go around giving away cars?” I ask, bemused and bewildered. “Is that something you just generally do? Because it seems sort of huge to me.”
The man just smiles. Like my confusion at being gifted a luxury vehicle is silly or something. “Now where would you like us to put the furniture and other gifts for the nursery?” he asks.
My eyebrows are so very high. “There’s more?”
“I’ll open the garage for you,” says Grandma, taking charge. “The wonderful news about the babies isn’t widely known at present, and we’d prefer to keep it that way.”
“Of course, ma’am. Mr. Farmer is very excited, by the way. He looks forward to discussing more family-friendly plans for Mr. Porter’s future recording and touring schedule.”
“And we will be sure to pass that on to him when he returns,” says Grandma. “How about we get all of this out of sight and you on your way as soon as possible. Small-town gossip being what it is.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
This is wild. Imagine being able to afford to just give away a luxury vehicle. Nash and I also need to talk, because the twins are turning out to be an issue. The last thing I need is news of my fake pregnancy spreading around town.
I already told Rose and Carmen about my money and car woes at the bar that night. But we never specified what Nash did for work. We could say he has some money. He would need to be solvent to buy the house next door. Lying about your life to an entire town sure can get complicated quick.
The pounding of feet and chatter of conversation can be heard coming down the road. Then a familiar voice says, “What’s going on here?”
Shit.
A group of people stand gathered around the back of the delivery truck.
There are about a dozen of them dressed in activewear.
Nash is in his cargo shorts and sneakers.
His need to walk around half naked should be addressed.
It’s causing me ongoing sexual distress.
Perhaps I could lodge a complaint at the next town meeting.
Start a petition or something to make him wear a shirt. Though I doubt anyone would sign it.
Honestly, no wonder my hormones are so hung up on him. Fuck him for being so attractive. It’s also not helpful for him blending in and staying on the down low. Good to see him making friends and enjoying life, however.