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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.
