Seven Days Destinations

by Ruth Hay

  Abigail Beck could walk to the Zoomer offices downtown on most days of the year. She valued the time to think, and strode out among the throngs of city workers with purpose and some pride.

  Only a few months previously she had been without a regular job, reduced to babysitting her cousin Portia in their grandparents’ stuffy mansion far from Toronto’s centres of activity. That this situation had been all of her own doing, was no comfort. There was no one else to blame for her ill-advised pursuit of her married boss or for the dire mistake she had made in trusting a reporter with a photograph of a British celebrity who had expected her discretion. Supervision of a very sick Portia had been expiation for her distinct lack of judgement, but the shock of it all had depleted her self-confidence to such a degree that she feared she would never recover the bold, invincible and polished exterior that had forged her reputation as a newspaper reporter of note.

  She felt the cool wind rushing up the streets from Lake Ontario and remembered a summer day by the lakeshore when she stooped to find under her seat a copy of the Canadian Zoomer magazine and her life changed instantly. It was a short mental jump from the work she had latterly done on Canadian Snowbirds in Mexico, and the kind of articles she was reading in Zoomer, which purported to be exclusively for those Boomers over 55 who still had a zest for life. She lost no time in sending her résumé to the Toronto Zoomer offices and within a week she had been interviewed and given a trial assignment. Someone on the writing staff knew her name and her work, and must have chosen to ignore her recent misfortunes.

  Since then, Abigail had gone on to contribute several items about the problems of downsizing and the need for seniors to adopt some of the modern technical advances. Most recently, she had completed a survey on the current trend of seniors moving downtown to be close to facilities like hospitals, doctors and health clubs not to mention the range of more pleasant activities like shopping and theatre-going opportunities.

  She did not have to look far for examples as her own grandparents were now living an entirely different lifestyle in a highrise building overlooking Lake Ontario. It was only one of the things for which she was grateful to them. They were her go-to couple for all things senior-related but it was their provision of a hiding place in the Forest Hill mansion that had given her the chance to review her mistakes and start over again. Even with her roommate Portia as a part of the bargain, she knew she could never have funded an apartment downtown without the help of her grandfather. She was living right in the centre of the action, thanks to his generosity and understanding.

  Abigail was not unaware of these advantages for her own age group. After her months in the isolation of the rich suburbs, she loved being in the heart of the city’s nightlife and had taken every opportunity to make friends of her own age in bars and clubs. Recently, she had hooked up with a suave type called Kevin something. He seemed keen to spend time with her but she was conscious of her roommate Portia’s sensitivities to strange men. Since their shared apartment had been the gift of their grandfather it was not wise to take anything for granted. Portia relied on Abi for support and despite an initial dislike of the girl, Abi had come to respect her for overcoming severe difficulties and starting again. It was something they had in common.

  Charming and attractive Kevin would have to wait on the sidelines for now. Abigail Beck had obligations to meet and she had learned the hard way how important that was.

  And yet, in the midst of this busy time when she had so much to prove to her new employers, it was very nice to have the admiration of an obviously smitten Kevin on tap. He was rather attractive. She would give him a call. What could it hurt after all?

  Chapter Two

  Tuesday.

  Marian Beck had developed new routines since she and Aylward moved to the condominium apartment hotel overlooking the Toronto Islands and Lake Ontario.

  In the first weeks after the move, she had not been aware of any advantages. She was still recovering from her heart attack. Because of that she had been forbidden to do anything at all about the move. Their daughter Megan had taken her to her home in the west end of the city so Marian could not stress about the arrangements. Aylward had remained at Forest Hill to supervise, but both Megan and Terrence had insisted all work was to be done by the experienced, efficient company they had hired.

  Grandson Devon was instrumental in finding buyers for the extensive collections in the house so what was left was either staying for the new owners or was to be sold by an auction house. It had quickly become obvious that the senior Becks’ old furniture would not suit the smaller proportions of a modern apartment, no matter how spacious.

  Marian had first seen her new living quarters when everything was in place. Despite the convenience of this idea, it had been a serious shock for her to go from her long-time residence, to Megan’s home, and then to the lakeshore condo. Most days she could hardly recognize where she was.

  Of course she had concealed her feelings from Aylward and everyone else in the family. They had had quite enough stress related to her condition already and she did not want to add to it.

  By now, she had adjusted, in some degree, to the expansive views of sky and sea from the two terraces and had become somewhat of a connoisseur. Before Aylward could ask how she had slept the night before, she was ready with a description of cloud and colour from the dawn display. He always chided her for exposing herself to the cold but she assured him she was well protected, wrapped from head to foot in a furry throw and wearing her knee-length, soft slipper-shoes.

  At first, she had missed the forest greenery of the mansion garden which had been their home for so long, but now she was appreciating the ever-changing scenes on the waterfront with sailing craft and ferries coming and going and by craning her neck she could also see planes arriving and leaving from the Porter Airlines’ runway.

  On sunny days, the boardwalk was full of tourists and Torontonians, shopping or eating or just taking a breath of the moist lakeside air. In all, she decided, it was a welcome change from the comparative isolation of their Forest Hill enclave and she looked forward to joining the throngs far below and visiting the islands. For this reason she followed her doctors’ advice and tried to restore her health as they recommended.

  This task was made easier by the facilities of the condo hotel. On the penthouse floors was an indoor, heated, swimming pool. Megan had sent over a selection of swimming costumes for her mother’s approval and Marian now had two smart suits to alternate. She enjoyed a leisurely swim and a warm shower before indulging in a healthy breakfast in the adjoining restaurant with even more spectacular views over Toronto. Here she had met a number of older occupants who extolled the advantages of the residences which Aylward and she had not yet explored. They already knew about the in-house restaurant services and, for the first time in decades, Marian Beck was no longer responsible for arranging meals or supervising kitchen and garden staff. A phone call summoned a cart carrying every requirement they could desire for a meal, or meals, each day. This one benefit was, in her opinion, the best guarantee of her future health and one she relished.

  As for Aylward’s health and welfare, Marian was pleased to see her husband had made use of invitations to join various clubs functioning in the building. Currently, he was playing cards on Monday, discussing investments on Tuesday and doing a light exercise program in the gym on Wednesdays and Fridays.

  They were both enrolled in a Theatre Group which sponsored season tickets for the vast selection of productions only minutes away in the downtown theatre district.

  All in all, Marian had to conclude that their lifestyle had improved greatly since the move. This was not something she could ever have predicted. It came as a great surprise, but a welcome one.

  An additional benefit was their proximity to family members. It was so much easier for their children and grandchildren to visit now they were in the midst of the city instead of miles away.

  Megan dropped in after work when her legal practic
e hours allowed. Abigail worked nearby in the Zoomer offices and she checked in with requests for their approval of various projects she was working on. She called them ‘her secret weapon’ and seemed to value their advice. Devon Skyped regularly, and included Portia’s latest successes in his video calls. She was now employed in two separate sections of the Tech Hub. Devon had filmed her paintings and her textile work and showed these to his grandparents with great pride. The two had become fast friends. Portia referred to her male cousin in all decisions about her personal and professional life.

  When Marian considered the devastated young girl who had begun her recovery in the gardens of the Forest Hill mansion, she could scarcely believe the progress Portia had made. Of course it was not without major help from all the family in addition to that of Wesley and Zoe Philips. They would never be able to thank the English couple enough for their continued support of Portia. After their first encounters with the severely disturbed girl in the Mexican resort, it would have been sufficient if the couple had broken off their connection to Portia once they had returned home to England.

  Far from it. The Philips’ had continued to support and counsel Portia on Skype. Zoe had even established a program in Portia’s name in her English Excelsior Cosmetics company, to provide help and encouragement to other young girls suffering from mental or physical abuse and post-traumatic stress.

  Marian hoped to see Zoe and Wesley in Toronto one of these days. The Beck family owed them so much. That pleasure would need to be postponed for some time as the English couple had recently welcomed a baby boy.

  The biggest surprise in family connections belonged to Marian’s relationship with her daughter-in-law, Jillian. Despite a punishing schedule of evening hours at Beckoning Cuisine, Jillian maintained a close contact with Marian, arriving in the mornings, once a week, before the restaurant opened for lunch.

  Jillian had blossomed since moving to Terrence’s side in the business. Her very posture had improved as well as her smart black dresses and tidy hairstyle. Her new confidence extended to making a friend of her mother-in-law for which Marian Beck was deeply grateful. She now had insight into Terrence’s life in the restaurant business and also, thanks to Jillian’s reports, a summary of the family doings as discussed over the table in the bi-monthly family dinners.

  Jillian seemed eager to share this information. She confided in Marian about her delight in Devon’s successes and Louise’s growing attachment to Jason. Marian was able to add her own pleasure with Abigail’s success at Zoomer Headquarters. She had already introduced Abi to some of the women in the building who were snowbirds, or seniors with concerns related to travel in advancing years.

  Altogether the two women had a rapport that had been absent during the years of Jillian’s and Terrence’s marriage right up until the amazing family week in the Mexican resort that had changed everything.

  “I can never thank you and Aylward enough for that wonderful holiday, Marian.”

  Jillian was sitting beside her mother-in-law on the terrace overlooking the waterfront. The scene always reminded her of the large balcony from which they had viewed the varied waterways of the Nuevo Vallarta resort.

  “My only regret is that your plan to move to the Bahamas never came to pass. Do you regret that, Marian?”

  The older woman took a moment to compose her answer. She had thought long and hard about this question while recuperating from her heart attack.

  “Truthfully, my dear, I am not sorry. Apart from the health-related issues, I would not have been able to see so much of our family if we had gone so far away. It was a dream of Aylward’s rather than of mine. It has taken some adjustments of course, but I am content now to be relieved of the responsibilities of our large house. Daily life is so much easier here.” She spread out her hands to encompass the vista before them.

  Jillian was thinking of the sparkling new, clean and clear apartment behind them with its crisp grey and white furnishings, polished floors and shining appliances in a kitchen that rarely required any cleaning.

  If it were at all possible, she would love to be living this high-rise lifestyle with Terry but she knew they could not afford it. Terry’s objective was to earn enough money to repay his father for the start-up funds he had loaned to his son. The money had made the whole restaurant idea feasible. The fact that Aylward had not approved of his son’s choice of career had made the generosity of the gift all the more meaningful and underlined Terry’s desire to be relieved of the debt as fast as possible.

  Jillian knew Marian and Aylward had no need of the money. They had sold the Forest Hill mansion for a fabulous price. Terry knew this too, but for him it was a debt of honour and one he was determined to pay. Jillian would never question this decision. His sense of honour was one of the qualities that made her husband the man she admired.

  “I can certainly see what you mean, Marian. It’s a beautiful apartment and the conveniences in the hotel aspect are second to none. I noticed you are now adding some touches of your own to the décor. Is that large painting on the living room wall one of Portia’s?”

  “Yes, indeed! She did it from memory. As you know, our garden in the old place was highly significant to Portia. It was where her healing really began and I love the riot of colours and plant shapes against the white wall. It’s like looking at summer every day.

  We do have our family photos displayed now and some colourful touches here and there but Aylward insists we do not descend into clutter. He relishes the peace of mind from resting his eyes on space instead of multiple layers of carpets and books and furniture to trip over everywhere, not to mention his predilection for collections of ephemera of all kinds.”

  Jillian laughed at this accurate description of the mansion’s accumulation of purchases over decades of living. She was sure the move downtown would allow the couple to live out their remaining years in comfort and pleasure and for that she was glad.

  Her ability to talk at this level of ease with Marian was one of the advantages she now enjoyed. Daughter Megan had formerly been the favourite family female but Jillian felt she had now claimed a special place in her mother-in-law’s heart.

  She stretched and yawned and patted her hair into place. The new argan oil treatment was doing its job of taming her curls despite the breeze that was frequent when outdoors at this height. She rose to her feet. “Well, Marian, I had better be going. Can I do anything for you before I head to work?”

  “You have done it already, Jillian. I so appreciate you coming here when your life is so busy.”

  “Honestly, Marian, it’s my pleasure. I’ll be back next Tuesday after the family dinner and bring you the news.”

  She bent down and gave the white-haired matron a gentle hug. It was something she would never have dared to do before.

  What she had said was the truth. There was something calming in the minutes she spent with Marian. Perhaps it was the view, or the spacious apartment, but something soothed her soul and gave her restored energy for the days ahead.

  * * *

  “Has Jillian gone, my dear?”

  “Yes, she just left. You should have joined us, Aylward.”

  “Oh, I know how much you two ladies like to chat without an old man’s interruptions. I was on the telephone to my broker again. The man has no clue how to follow the bank rate changes by the hour to take advantage of the best investment rates.”

  He shook his head in disgust at this perceived incompetence then bent down to feel his wife’s hands and gauge her temperature.

  “I think it’s time for a nice, hot, cup of tea, Marian. Shall I make it or do you want to order a snack for us?”

  “Oh, I believe I am still capable of making tea, Aylward. Don’t fuss.”

  She rose slowly from her chair and folded up the quilted throw she had worn over her knees. She never noticed the expression on her husband’s face. It would have told her how much he had learned to value every extra moment with his companion of so many years. It had tak
en her brush with imminent death to make him appreciate her as he should have. He was determined to make up for that neglect now, and for every day he had left in life. The trappings of the vast house he had clung to for far too long were an easy trade for the joy of each day in these simple surroundings with his Marian.

  “I’ll fill the kettle, and warm the teapot, dear. You set out the cups and plates. We’ll watch some television and take a nice break, don’t you think? You can tell me all Jillian’s news.”

  Chapter Three

  Wednesday.

  Jillian was taking a short break after the lunch time rush was over when Chris informed her there was a call for her.

  “Thanks, Chris! I’ll take it in the office. Hold the fort here in case someone comes in for a late lunch.”

  “Beckoning Cuisine. How may I help you?”

  “Mom, it’s me!”

  “Abi! It’s good to hear from you. What’s up?”

  It was unusual for Abigail to call during the work day. Her mother knew there had to be a good reason.

  She took a breath and consciously lightened her tone of voice in preparation.

  Abi wasted no time. “I know you’re busy. I’ll get right to the point. I’ve got a problem with accommodations.”

  “I thought you liked the small apartment downtown?”

  “Well it’s been handy for both Portia and me but now it’s too small.”

  “I know it must have been difficult for two of you sharing just one bedroom, Abi, but it was what your grandfather advised until Portia was capable of standing on her own feet.”