by Gina Ardito
On a heavy sigh, I dialed Mom’s cell, but the phone didn’t even ring before going straight to voicemail. Stupid desert! Mom and Dad had such lousy cell service out there, it would probably take days for me to connect with them. Still, I waited for the beep and left a message.
“Hey, Mom. There’s a problem with Nana Thea. They want to throw her out of Sunny Hills. Call me back asap please?”
As messages went, it wasn’t very warm and fuzzy, but I was desperate. She’d forgive me, especially when I got to explain what was happening here.
In the meantime, I would have to go to Sunny Hills and talk to Nana. See if I could somehow convince the staff to give her another chance and then coerce her into behaving so they’d keep her. I checked my appointment book and found the great big stinkin’ hole I knew was in today’s morning. My studio was booked solid after three this afternoon, when the kids got out of school, for the obligatory family holiday photos.
Oh, well. With my morning free, I should probably get the Nana episode over with. No sense in avoiding the inevitable. I locked up the house and climbed into my minivan. I’m no soccer mom—or any kind of mom, for that matter. The van was the easiest way for me to carry all my equipment. I offered traditional services like wedding and special occasion photographs, but I also hawked beach photos to tourists during the summer, provided aerial shots for real estate and government agencies, and occasionally, played paparazzi for celebrity charity events. I needed a vehicle that served as a moving storage facility and a mobile dressing room, in case I had to change clothes in a hurry. Best of all, it kept the sleazy lecherous men at bay—the ones from out of town, looking for a little vacay action. In this day and age, a minivan was more effective than a wedding ring for chasing away the cheaters. Men automatically assumed I was a single mom with at least two-point-three kids, and none of these fun-in-the-sun players were looking for that much baggage.
Less than thirty minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot of Sunny Hills and found a spot a brisk ten-mile walk from the entrance. Okay, not really, but the frigid temperatures and howling wind sure made it seem like I’d trekked across the arctic. In the warmer months, the complex of Tudor-style apartments with spewing fountains, wrought-iron-backed benches and manicured landscaping looked more like a beachside resort than senior housing. Monthly rent probably cost about the same, too. Today, though, the distance from my nice warm van to the nice warm hospitality center was separated by frozen tundra.
When I finally reached the entrance and the doors slid open on a whoosh and hum, I walked straight into a wall of heat and my Nana, arguing with a pursed-lipped nurse who stood beside the receptionist’s desk. On the other side of the desk, a man sat in a straight-backed chair, sobbing, while another nurse tried to soothe him with whispered hushes and gentle shoulder rubs. Well, crap. This didn’t bode well.
“Oh, come on,” Nana said. “We were just having a little fun.”
I had a compelling urge to get out of there before anyone noticed me, but I was too late. The receptionist, sandwiched between the tableaux, leaned over the curved desk, her glasses sliding to midpoint on her nose. “Can I help you?”
“Umm…” I didn’t get a chance to form a coherent thought.
“Bon-bon!” Nana Thea exclaimed, using the childhood nickname she never let me live down.
Apparently, I was one of those people who earned a name and kept it for eternity. “Bon-bon Quarter Cup” would probably be the moniker engraved on my tombstone.
She sashayed over, enveloped me in a rose-and-water-lily-perfumed hug, and kissed my cheek. “What are you doing here, sweetheart?”
She wore a bright orange caftan emblazoned on one shoulder with what appeared to be the Star Trek emblem.
“Nana? What’s going on?”
“Althea told Mr. Howe she was taking over control of the Starship Enterprise,” the soothing nurse said.
The gentleman in the chair bawled louder. Mr. Howe, I presumed. “It’s not fair,” he said. “Even when he had trouble with tribbles, Captain Kirk never relinquished command.”
“But you’re no Captain Kirk,” Nana told him. “And as Vice Admiral, I outrank you.”
“Thea, hush,” the sour-faced nurse chastised. “Why don’t you take your visitor down to your room and have a chat? I’m sure she has a lot to tell you.”
In other words, I got to be the bearer of bad news.
“Can I have a glass of milk first?” Nana asked.
“No, you may not! And if I find out you’ve brought those cats into your suite again, I’ll have them taken to the pound.”
“Tough crowd,” Nana murmured and grabbed my wrist. “Come on, Siobhan. Hey! I like that. Sounds like a song. ‘Come on, Siobhan. Boom-boom-bah. Come on, Siobhan.’” She shimmied ahead of me down the hall, singing off-key in some fifties version of a capella.
I followed her into her suite and stopped in the middle of the living area, stunned. The apartment was barren except for the furnishings there when she moved in. In the bedroom, her suitcase sat open on her stripped bed, crammed full of her clothing and belongings.
“Give me five minutes and I’ll be ready to go.”
“Go?” I stared at the empty walls and tabletops, still too flummoxed to consider what this meant.
Nana looked at me over one shoulder and grinned with all the excitement of a child at Christmas. “You’re here to take me home, aren’t you?”
That’s when it hit me. She’d planned this. The kittens (though God knew where she got them. She probably set a trap in the woods behind the facility), the cane at yoga class (Nana didn’t need a cane; she was spryer than a teenager), the naked wheelchair races, and the whole Star Trek debacle (Far as I knew, Nana preferred Star Wars). She knew exactly what she was doing and when to do it. After biding her time since we got her settled in here last July, she started acting up a few weeks ago, knowing full well she’d get kicked out while Mom and Dad were out of reach in Arizona. The woman was diabolical!
“What happened, Nana? They wouldn’t let you out to go dancing on Saturday nights?”
The glimmer in her eye dimmed. “Everyone here is so old. I don’t belong here.”
“Well, congratulations, you got your wish.”
She spun around the room, her caftan whirling around her like a tub of sherbet. “Whee! Let’s go, Bon-bon. I can’t wait to get out of this mausoleum!” Another scented hug assaulted me. “You and I are going to have so much fun. Like sisters.”
Sisters. Uh-huh. Wonderful.
Call me, Mom. Pleeeeez!
♥♥♥♥
Althea
I could tell my granddaughter was none too pleased with the sudden change in plans, but to be honest, I had a tough time stifling my glee. I was free! I finished packing the last of my belongings in record time. Siobhan took my suitcase and the box containing my trinkets and photos. George, one of the orderlies, carried out my linens and small electrical items. I followed behind with my new babies, Shaggy, Velma, and Daphne in their cardboard box. I practically skipped past the weasely receptionist with her ever-sliding specs, but settled for a saccharine-sweet, “Bye, Darlene. I’ll miss you.”
She gritted her teeth at me. Good riddance. As a final salute, I wiggled my tush at her when the doors slid open and ushered in a blast of frigid air. I stood on the automatic mat, amassing the wind like some ancient weather goddess until she shouted, “Oh, for God’s sake, get out and close that door behind you! It’s freezing over here.”
Laughing, I headed outside and crooned to my furry wards. “Come on, my kitties. New adventures await us!”
With Siobhan’s van loaded up, I placed the box of kittens in the back seat and settled in the passenger side.
“Buckle up, Nana.”
Funny. I had a feeling I should have been telling Siobhan that same thing. Still, I did as she instructed. The atmosphere inside the vehicle made breathing difficult, thanks to the weight of my granddaughter’s anger. “I’m sorry if I’ve i
nconvenienced you, Bon-bon.”
She jerked on her directional so hard I thought the lever might snap off the steering column. “No, you’re not.”
I reached over and patted her coat sleeve. “Yes, I am. If I could’ve waited it out until spring, I wouldn’t have involved you. But you have no idea how lonely I was in there.”
“You chose the place, Nana. Remember? We checked out a dozen different places and you decided Sunny Hills was the place where you wanted to spend the rest of your days.”
“I said that to get your father off my back!” I retorted, then immediately clamped my lips shut.
“Wait, what?” Siobhan pulled to the side of the road and slid the van into park. “What do you mean? I thought the assisted living place was your idea.”
“It was. Sort of. But only because I didn’t want to be a burden to your parents. Your father dropped a lot of hints that I was cramping their early retirement. I thought I could do it. But, Bon, I am soooo not ready for orderlies that hold a mirror under my nose every day to make sure I didn’t die in my sleep.”
Her eyes rounded. “Get out! They didn’t really do that, did they?”
Of course not. But, judging by her reaction, I’d win her over to my side if I lied. Too bad my conscience wouldn’t allow me to manipulate my only granddaughter. “No. But they took all the fun out of life. The food had no flavor, the music had no soul, and they kept insisting lights out was at nine pm. I may be old, but I’m not an invalid.”
“No, you’re not.” She offered me a tremulous smile. “Okay. I guess we can try to make this work.”
I fidgeted in my chair, tethered by my seatbelt from jumping up and kissing her. “We can, I promise. I won’t be a bother. I’m quite capable of taking care of myself. You’ll hardly know I’m around.”
With our moods lighter, Siobhan pulled back onto the road, and we continued our trip home. As she drove, I allowed my gaze to stare at the buildings we passed. I tended to avoid thinking too long about the changes that had occurred here since my childhood. It only depressed me to see the deli where I used to buy a fudge bar for a dime had become a frozen yogurt shop that charged by the ounce, the beach where I’d experienced my first kiss was now closed to the public, owned by some hedge fund hotshot who “summered” here.
When did summer become a verb?
Maybe I was old. Still, I wasn’t old enough for Sunny Hills, with its Bingo Tuesdays and bus rides to doctors’ appointments. I still liked golf and tennis for recreation. And walking to the local bakery for a hot coffee and a chocolate croissant on Sunday mornings. I wanted the freedom to feed the stray cats that lived in the woods outside my home, and the ability to build them a shelter when the temperatures dropped. I loved digging in a garden, or strolling the beach at sunset. Most important of all, I resented not being “allowed” to do any of these activities, not due to physical limitations but because I’d slipped a rubber rat into the desk drawer of some health care professional on a power trip. I wasn’t a senile old fool or a dried out husk of human. My juices still ran full and forceful. At my venerable age, seventy, I craved fun, laughter, and love. Not necessarily in that order.
Take it from me, friends. Life is too damn short. I’d lost too many loved ones—especially in the last few years—so I knew firsthand a person had to seize every opportunity to live. Eat tacos, make love in the ocean, travel, read, explore. When Death comes calling, be ready to say, “It’s been a good ride. Let’s see what’s on the other side.”
Siobhan turned onto Mermaid Lane, and our house came into view. My bones relaxed, and my breathing evened. Home. I had returned to the place where my husband carried me over the threshold so many years ago, where I’d raised four kids (and outlived one), where I’d hosted my husband’s wake fifteen years ago. I loved my split-level ranch with its creaky floors, swollen doors, and too-small closets.
“This will always be home for me,” I said aloud.
“I know what you mean,” Siobhan replied. “I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.”
Activity across the street caught my eye. “Hmm…big goings on at the Vais place?” A very good-looking man stepped out of a sleek, black sports car. I squinted my eyes to get a better look. “Is that little Jimmy Vais? My, how he’s grown!”
“Huh?” Siobhan veered her attention to where I pointed, and the van drifted with her gaze.
“Easy, Bon,” I admonished. “Watch it.”
“Oops. Sorry.” She pulled into our driveway, turned off the engine, and faced me. “All set, Nana?”
Her flushed cheeks and the breathy tone intrigued me. I dared another glance at the Vais house where Jimmy lifted a suitcase from his open trunk. Well, well. Bon-bon still had the hots for the boy across the street. I thought she’d given up on him when she was in high school.
As a daughter of the moon, I always believed any action I undertook had a purpose that the universe would reveal in its own time. While taking in my granddaughter’s suddenly flustered appearance, I knew why I’d had to leave Sunny Hills at this exact time.
I was going to make sure Siobhan finally snared the man of her dreams.
Other Books by Gina Ardito
The Bonds of Matri-money
A Little Slice of Heaven
A Run for the Money
Nobody’s Darling (Book I of the Nobody Series)
Nobody’s Business (Book II of the Nobody Series)
Nobody’s Perfect (Book III of the Nobody Series)
Eternally Yours (Book I of the Afterlife Series)
In Your Dreams (Book II of the Afterlife Series)
Waiting in the Wings (Book III of the Afterlife Series)
Chasing Adonis
Duping Cupid (a Valentine’s Day Short Story)
Charming for Mother’s Day (A Calendar Girls Series novella)
Duet in September (Book I of the Calendar Girls Series)
Reunion in October (Book II of the Calendar Girls Series)
Books by Gina Ardito writing as Katherine Brandon
Kismet’s Angel (Book I of the Kismet Series)
Kismet’s Revenge (Book II of the Kismet Series)
Kismet’s Salvation (Book III of the Kismet Series)
Echoes of Love
About the Author
Gina Ardito is the award-winning international author of more than twenty romances, a legendary singer in confined spaces (her car, the shower, her office cubicle), and a killer of houseplants. She hosts fun, informative workshops for writers around the country. In 2012, Gina was named a Woman of Outstanding Leadership by the International Women’s Leadership Association, but to her friends, she’s still just a shenanigator.
A native of Long Island, New York, she lives with her husband, two children, a bionic dog, and their two cat overlords. For more info on Gina and her books, you can visit her website, follow Gina on Facebook , on Twitter, or sign up for the monthly newsletter she shares with her ScribBLING Diva pals.
