She passed up the bedroom and continued down the hall and through the living room, toward the front door.

Peering through the peephole, she furrowed her brow.

What was Eleanor Duncan doing here?

Grace deactivated the alarm and pulled the door open. “Hi, Eleanor. This is a surprise.”

“I hope I’m not intruding, but the sheriff told me you were down with the flu, and I know you don’t have any family in the area. So I brought you homemade soup.” She lifted a small, lidded container. “I was going to run over with it on my lunch hour, but the sheriff said I could take the rest of the day off to get ready for my trip. So I stopped on my way home.”

Wow. Nate was right. The woman did have a heart of gold.

“I can’t believe you went to all this trouble. It was very kind of you to bother.”

“It was no bother at all. As the sheriff said to me this morning, life should be all about helping each other.”

That sounded like Nate.

“A wonderful philosophy.”

“Why don’t I put this in a bowl for you and you can heat it up for lunch? That will save you having to return my container later.”

“Let me do that.” She reached for the offering. “I hate to let you in and expose you to all my germs. I wouldn’t want you to come down with this on your vacation.”

“I have a hardy constitution—but if you insist.” She handed over the container.

“Give me two minutes.”

Eleanor retreated into the shade of the clematis vine on the porch as Grace shut the door and hurried toward the kitchen as fast as her shaky legs allowed. Her appetite had been nonexistent, but soup might tempt her—especially after Nate’s glowing review.

She pulled a bowl from the cabinet and dumped in the generous serving. Chicken noodle, it appeared. Less hearty than what Eleanor had prepared for Nate, but probably perfect at this stage of her recovery. Rice and vegetables could be a bit too heavy for her stomach.

After stowing it in the fridge, she rinsed out Eleanor’s container and returned to the front door.

“The soup smells delicious.” Best not to mention Nate had told her how tasty his was, lest that further fuel the rumor mill about the two of them. “I can’t wait to try it.” She handed the container back to the woman.

“I hope you enjoy it. My mama always said chicken noodle soup could cure anything. Do you feel up to eating?”

“I didn’t until I got a whiff of your soup. I’m going to take your advice and eat it for lunch as soon as you leave. I hope you have a wonderful trip.”

“Thank you. I know I will. Take care of yourself.” Eleanor pulled out her keys, descended the porch steps, and returned to her car.

Once the woman backed out of the driveway, Grace closed the door, rearmed the perimeter security system, and wandered back to the kitchen, where her laptop waited on the kitchen table.