Chapter 55 Grace Nash

The Agenda

Five Months After the Wedding

I stare at the blank phone in my hand as tears fall down my face. They land somewhere on my shirt, but they're coming too fast for me to keep up with them.

How the hell did we get here?

It wasn't so long ago he was telling me that he loved me after a game…and now it's over?

I knew the season would be hard on us, but I thought we had a little more time. He's been preoccupied with practice and meetings and games, so I threw myself into my own thing. I thought it was a good thing for us to have separate interests. I thought I was respecting his boundaries when he told me he needed to focus. It was all working out—his focus shifted to the game, and mine to the vineyard.

I've been trying to find something, anything, to use against her in this whole vineyard fight, but I keep coming up blank. It feels like she's winning the vineyard, and all I had left was Spencer.

But now he's walking away, too. Another blindside.

What does that leave me with?

Nothing. The answer is nothing .

And I have no idea what to do to fight for him. His voice made it sound like he didn't want a fight. He's just done. It's over for him. There's nothing left to fight for.

It makes me wonder if he ever really meant those words when he said he loved me. What would make him just end it out of the blue? We didn't have a fight. There wasn't even enough time that passed for us to really grow apart.

The tears start to dry as anger steps into their place. Why is he just giving up? Something must have happened, and he's not letting me in.

I want to talk this out with somebody, but I realize once again…I don't have anyone.

I don't know if I've ever felt so alone.

It doesn't get any better as the end of the day Monday rolls around. I pick up my phone no less than ten times as I think about texting or calling my husband.

He's still my husband. He still cares enough to stay married to me for the rest of the year. That has to mean something, doesn't it?

I wonder what he's doing. It's only three o'clock there, and surely he's at practice or in meetings. He told me if they lose, they don't get Mondays off, but Tuesdays are always their day off.

Maybe I should fly out to see him tonight. I take a quick look at flights. There's one out of here in a little over two hours. If I hurry and carry my bag onto the plane with me, I can make it.

I glance at my calendar to see what's on the agenda for tomorrow.

It shouldn't matter, but it does.

I have meetings booked for most of the day. I'm scheduled to meet with Nana about some ideas we had for the tasting room in the morning, and then I'm touching base with my dad about the cellar workers and their change in schedule for the fall months. Then I have a Zoom call with Heidi regarding this weekend's wedding, plus we have a retirement party on Friday night that Heidi can't make, so it'll be on me to get the barn ready for that .

It's too many things to juggle, too many things to cancel, to just abandon this place to fly out to see him.

Still, I text Heidi and ask if we can Zoom today instead of tomorrow.

She replies with a video call.

"What's wrong, Grace?" she asks as soon as she sees my face.

"Is it that obvious?"

She ducks her head a little, but then she nods. "Yeah."

I blow out a breath. "The physical distance between Spencer and me is starting to get to us, that's all." I don't get into the nuts and bolts of it. She doesn't need to know, and I don't need to be talking about it in an office where my sister could put a glass up to the wall to overhear every single word.

"Then call him, silly. Go see him. We can handle the vineyard." She purses her lips and raises her brows meaningfully at me.

"I know. It's just…" I trail off, but she finishes for me.

"Just Amelia. I know. We won't let her steal it out from under you while you're gone."

"She's tried every time I've left. I'm terrified to leave now," I admit quietly.

"Listen, Maggie knows all you do. We all know it, Gracie. This place is as good as yours, and you know I'm fighting for you to have it over her. I can't imagine her being my boss." She strains her face into an exaggerated grimace. "Now go get your man before it's too late."

She's right.

I need to go talk to him in person. I need to fight for him. I need to fight for us .

I nod resolutely, and then I scramble up from my seat. "I gotta go."

I rush toward my office door, ready to run to my bungalow, throw some stuff in an overnight bag, and race to the airport.

Just as I'm about to clear the doorframe, I see my dad as he rushes down the hallway toward me. He's pale, his eyes are wide, and he looks like he's seen a ghost.

"What's wrong?" I ask .

"It's Nana. I…I think she's having a stroke."

* * *

It's interesting how you can waffle back and forth over a decision, but when an emergency situation arises, the decision is made for you.

All my meetings are canceled for tomorrow. The thought of flying to San Diego is stripped from my mind.

She has to be okay. Please let her be okay.

I'm sitting in a waiting room at an emergency department thirty minutes from home, and I'm holding my dad's hand as we pray silently and wait for the doctor to come in and tell us what's going on.

A woman in scrubs walks in. "The family of Margaret Newman?"

The four of us—my dad, Uncle Jimmy, Amelia, and me—all push to a stand at the same time. I'm still holding my dad's hand, and I feel like a little girl again.

"The good news is that Margaret didn't have a stroke. She had what we call a transient ischemic attack, which can mimic the signs of a stroke. It's a temporary block of blood flow to the brain that can serve as a warning sign, and because of her age, we're going to admit her so we can have our neurologist run some more tests and assess her risk."

I let out a breath. It wasn't a stroke, but it was still something .

I'm not ready to lose her. Nana is one of the most important people in my life, and I can't imagine a world that exists without her in it.

My immediate thought upon hearing she's okay is that I want to call Spencer. He loves her, too. He should know.

"Visiting hours are over for the night, and we'll be transferring her to a floor bed," the doctor continues. "She can have visitors in the morning starting at eight, so feel free to go home and get some rest. She'll need you at your best tomorrow."

"Can I just get in to say goodnight?" Dad asks, and Uncle Jimmy nods beside him .

She flattens her lips, but then she nods. "Quickly, please."

They both nod, and Amelia and I are left alone in the waiting room.

"Thank God she's going to be okay," Amelia says once Dad and Uncle Jimmy follow the doctor out of the waiting room.

I press my lips together and nod, and then I start to cry.

"Hey," she says softly. This isn't the Amelia I'm used to, but I'm not used to facing an emergency medical situation for a close family member either. "She's going to be okay."

"I was just holding it together for Dad," I admit as I swipe away the tears.

"Me too," she says, and her voice cracks.

It's the most tender moment we've ever shared, I think, and it feels…strange.

Here's this strong, independent, sometimes wild, sometimes wonderful woman, and I can't help but think what a team we'd make if we could just find ourselves landing on the same side of things.

We haven't eaten, so once Dad and Uncle Jimmy return from seeing Nana, Dad offers to take us all out to dinner. Uncle Jimmy rode in the ambulance here with Nana after she'd been confused and her face was starting to droop, and he sits in front of Dad's car while I sit in back with Amelia.

There's a bit of awkwardness in the air between us, but I also can't help but wonder what's going through Nana's mind right now.

The most important thing is that we get her healthy and back home with us.

I wish I could talk to Spencer. I wish I could tell him what's going on.

And I try to. The moment I walk in through the front door of my bungalow, I collapse on my couch and dial his number.

It goes straight to voicemail.

I tried. He didn't answer.

I'm reminded once again how very well and truly alone I really am.