“Of course, they’re not all active,” Henrietta said. “A lot of our members join simply so they can take trips or be on the seniors’ softball team or attend classes for free.”
“How many active members do you have?”
“About eighty.”
That was manageable. “I’d like to ask your active members to a party.”
“A party?”
“Actually, it’s a reception.”
“Oh? A reception for whom?”
“Me.”
Yes, there was that confused expression again.
Riley explained about the canceled wedding. “So, I’m going to have a party this Saturday. I’m wondering if some of your members might enjoy coming to a fancy dinner.”
“I think they would,” Henrietta said eagerly. “I sure would. I’ve been at sixes and sevens since my husband died last summer and I’m always looking for ways to fill the weekend.” Her expression turned wistful.
“It would make me very happy if you’d come,” Riley told her. And she meant it. The more people like Henrietta who came, the more she’d like it. Her non-wedding reception was no longer so much about her as it was about giving a holiday lift to people who could really use it. “Here’s the invitation,” she said, sliding the sheet of paper onto the desk.
Henrietta picked it up and read, “‘Come one and all to The Pines this Saturday at 7:00 p.m. to help Riley Erickson celebrate the holidays. (And her lucky escape from marrying the wrong man!) Dinner, dancing and non-wedding cake provided. No gifts. Your presence will be the best gift of all.’ That’s sweet. Your grandma’s always saying what a class act you are.”
Riley didn’t know if what she was doing counted as classy but she hoped it would be fun. Anyway, it beat sitting home feeling sorry for herself.
“Don’t be surprised if you get a ton of RSVPs,” Henrietta said.
“That’s what I want,” Riley told her. She said a cheerful goodbye to Henrietta and left, her next destination the nursing home.
The Watermark served as both a retirement and nursing home. One corner of the property was occupied by a three-story building made up of retiree-friendly two-bedroom condos. It came complete with a workout room and a party room that residents could reserve for entertaining large groups, as well as some short, scenic trails for walking. Most of the rooms had a lovely water and mountain view. And, snugged in by trees as the place was, none had a view of their future—the nursing home, which was the next, close-by step for residents who couldn’t take care of themselves anymore.
According to Grammy this was the last stop before the Grim Reaper escorted you off the party bus. “Don’t even think about putting me there,” she’d say. “If I reach that point, just hit me over the head with a hammer and put us all out of our misery.”
But Riley knew that many of the nursing home residents were only there temporarily, recovering from various surgeries and going through PT. Some of them might have a family member who could bring them to her party.
The walls of the nursing home were painted a calming blue, and the windows had curtains that looked like they’d been stolen from an old farmhouse. Other than at the main entrance, the walls were devoid of pictures. In spite of the cleaning personnel who were diligently mopping the floors, a faint odor of urine hung in the air. Riley could see why her grandmother didn’t want to end up here. The place needed an interior decorator, not to mention stronger cleaning solution.
An old lady was walking down the hall. When Riley came within reach, she leaned on her walker and stretched out a frail hand. “Hello,” she said. “Welcome to The Watermark. My name is Margaret.”
Riley took her hand. It was thin and fragile, down to skin over bone. “I’m Riley.”
“You’re very pretty,” said Margaret. “Are you visiting someone here?”
“No, I’m here to drop something off.”
“The desk is right over there.” The woman nodded but didn’t release Riley’s hand, and Riley couldn’t help wondering how many visitors she got. “I’ll come with you,” Margaret offered.
“I’d appreciate that,” Riley said.
The old woman let go of her hand to turn her walker around. “Don’t leave.”
“I won’t.”
Once pointed in the right direction, Margaret started toward the reception desk and Riley slowed her pace to match her new friend’s.
“Speaking of dropping things off...” Margaret began. “People have been showing up with Christmas cookies. Carolers came last week and brought those frosted ones to give out.” She frowned. “We’re not allowed to eat them, though. Liability issues, don’t you know.”
If the nursing home didn’t allow people to distribute cookies, would they allow her to invite the residents to her party?
“I’m ready to leave this place, let me tell you,” Margaret continued. “I hope to be back in my house by Christmas.”
Their progress down the hall was slow. If they’d been racing a slug, the slug would have won. Still, Riley enjoyed visiting with the woman as they walked.
“I was once a Rockette,” Margaret said. “I was quite a high kicker back then.”
“I’ll bet you were great.”
“Oh, I had a wonderful time. I love to dance. When my husband was alive we used to go to the Elks every week for the tea dance. I was still dancing clear up until October when I fell and broke my hip.”
“I’m sorry,” Riley said.
“Oh, I’m so much better now. I’d sure like to dance again.”
Maybe she could. “Do you have family around here, Margaret?” Riley asked.
“My daughter and her husband are snowbirds but they’re around all summer. They’re planning to come back for Christmas, so I’ll see them soon. My granddaughter moved to Alaska. Can you imagine? The very thought of living up in that cold wilderness makes my old bones ache.”
“So there’s no one here for you now?”
“Oh, there is. My handsome grandson comes to visit me every week. In fact, this is his day. I was watching for him when you arrived.” The look Margaret shot Riley was positively cagey. “He’s single.”
And probably living in his parents’ basement while they did their snowbird thing.
“What did you say your name was, dear?”
“It’s Riley.”
“And are you single?”
“Yes, but I’m not looking right now,” Riley said. She was waiting for Santa to drop the perfect man down her chimney. That could be a little hard to do, considering the fact that she had an electric fireplace.
They arrived at the reception desk and the receptionist, who was about Riley’s age, asked, “May I help you?”
“Yes, thanks, I have an invitation I want to drop off.”
The receptionist smiled. “Nice. Who’s it for?”
“For anyone who wants it.”
The receptionist’s brows knit. “I don’t understand.”
“I broke up with my fiancé,” Riley explained.
This brought a sympathetic frown. “That’s too bad.”
“Yes, it is. But we’re having the reception, anyway, and I thought you might have some residents here who’d like to come.”
“I’d like to come,” Margaret said. “Will there be dancing?”
“We’ll have a DJ,” Riley said.
“And cake?” Margaret asked eagerly.
Riley smiled. She couldn’t believe she was actually smiling about this. “Of course.”
“Wow,” said the receptionist, staring at Riley as if she’d announced that she’d completed the Boston Marathon and ended world hunger...while running the Boston Marathon. “That’s sweet of you. I’ll pass it on to my boss,” she said as Riley handed it over.
“It’s this Saturday,
so if you could pass it on right away that would be great,” Riley said.
“I’ll be there,” said Margaret.
“Now, Margaret, we have to check,” said the receptionist.
The old woman scowled at her. “Last time I looked this wasn’t a prison.”
“But we’ll need your doctor’s permission.”
“He’ll give it or I’ll find myself a new doctor.”
“Gram, are you causing trouble?” came a male voice from behind them.
That voice sounded familiar. Riley turned to see...Jack Logan.
Margaret lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. “This is my handsome grandson.”
Jack blushed. He covered his embarrassment by rolling his eyes. “That’s my gram, biased and blind.”
Riley didn’t think her new friend was either. Jack Logan was good-looking, no doubt about it. And obviously he was a devoted grandson.
“Are you visiting someone here?” he asked Riley.
“No, I’m just dropping off an invitation.”
He grinned. “To your non-wedding reception?”
“You guessed it.”
“I’m going,” his grandmother announced.
“You want to go, Gram? You can be my date.”
“We’ll need her doctor’s permission,” put in the receptionist.
“I’ll take care of it,” Jack said. Then he returned his attention to his grandmother. “What’s for dinner tonight?”
“Chicken and mashed potatoes, same as last week.”
“Good thing I like chicken and mashed potatoes,” Jack said. Then to Riley, “Want to join us?”
“Oh, please do,” said Margaret.
“Well...” She didn’t really have anything else to do at the moment. “Sure.”
Jack smiled. What a smile. “You’re in luck—there should be chocolate pudding for dessert. Right, Gram?”
“Oh, yes,” Margaret said happily.
At the lunchroom Jack insisted on paying for Riley’s meal then scoped out three places for them at a table already occupied by two women who looked as frail as Margaret.
“You’re lucky to have such a fine grandson,” one of the women said once they’d all settled at the table. “And is this his girlfriend?”
Riley’s cheeks felt warm. She sneaked a glance in Jack’s direction and he was smiling. Again.
“We’re new friends,” he said.
“That’s so sweet,” cooed the woman.
A waitress came to take their orders. Big choices—did they want peas or carrots with their chicken? And did they want decaf coffee or tea?
“What do you think of my grandma?” he asked Riley as the women told the waitress their preferences.
“She’s charming,” Riley said.
“She’s a firecracker. If the doc doesn’t give permission for her to come to your party, she’ll probably beat him up with her walker. Guess we’ve got a chaperone.”
“I guess so,” Riley agreed. She lowered her voice. “I don’t know what had her more excited, the dancing or the cake.”
“Might be a toss-up. Mostly I think she’s excited to get out. This place is making her buggy. It would me, too,” he added under his breath.
“It’s kind of you to bring her,” Riley said.
“I have many good qualities.”
“I’m beginning to suspect that.”
“Wait until Saturday night. I’ll be happy to confirm your suspicions,” he said.
Dinner conversation was an interesting combination of reports on aches and pains and the disappointing behavior of family. Not everyone at the table had a grandson who offered weekly visits.
Margaret did her best to cheer up her table companions, though, assuring them they’d be feeling better soon and predicting visitors for them. “Meanwhile, I’ll share my grandson and my new friend,” she said, beaming at Riley and Jack.
“You young people are so fortunate,” one of the women told them. “You’ve got your whole lives ahead of you.”
“We still have some time left to us,” Margaret informed her. “And then eternity with the Lord. Now, that’s something to look forward to.” The other woman frowned at her plate, and Margaret leaned across the table and said to Riley, “I’m a glass-half-full kind of girl. How about you?”
Three weeks ago Riley had been more of a glass completely empty kind of girl. Thank heaven she didn’t feel like that anymore. “Definitely half-full,” she replied with a nod.
Jack winked at her and she decided maybe her glass was a little more than half-full. Possibly up to two-thirds.
Dinner ended, and they escorted Margaret to her room, which she shared with another woman. “Betty’s been a very nice roommate,” she said, “but I’ll be glad to go home and have my bedroom all to myself again. She snores.”
“It won’t be long,” Jack reassured her as she lowered herself onto her bed. “You’re getting around better all the time.”
“I’m certainly getting around well enough to go out for an evening,” she said. “Don’t forget to order me a pass, darling.”
“I won’t.”
“And now, you two young people probably have things to do, so I think I’ll just read for a while and then rest my eyes.”
“Last time I came in and found you ‘resting your eyes’ you were snoring yourself,” Jack teased her.
“That must’ve been Betty,” she said, waving away his teasing. “Give me a kiss, you rascal.”
He obediently bent and kissed the top of her head and she smiled. “Come give me a kiss, too,” she said to Riley, who was happy to oblige.
“And now I’m going to read about murder and mayhem,” Margaret announced, holding up a paperback mystery with a very gory cover. “Next time you visit, I’ll have a full report on who done it.”
“Can hardly wait,” Jack said as he and Riley slipped out of the room.
“What a lovely woman,” Riley said.
“It runs in the family. My mom is, too.”
“And what about your sister?”
“She suckered me into dressing like a girl for Halloween when I was eight,” he said, making a face, and Riley chuckled. He checked his phone. “Six o’clock. Cocktail hour. Wanna get a drink?”
“I might spill it on you.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
They wound up back at The Tree House, sitting in the bar area, and this time Riley managed to keep the Grinch in her glass.
“So what do you do when you’re not making passes at strangers and hanging out with little old ladies?” he asked.
“I’m a teacher.”
“Ah.” He nodded. “Loves kids, wants five of her own.”
“Loves kids and only wants two. I’ve seen firsthand how much school supplies cost, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Kids are an expensive hobby.”
“I wouldn’t mind having a couple of ’em, though,” he said. “Down the road. I’m in no hurry.”
She almost asked him if he was in a hurry to find the right woman and get married. Almost.
Instead she took another sip of her drink. “I suppose you’re busy entering golf tournaments.”
“I’ve done a few,” he said and drank some of his beer. “You ever played golf?”
She shook her head. “I’m not athletic at all.”
“Then what do you do for fun?”
She shrugged. “Watch movies, read, go out with my girlfriends, go dancing.” She used to go out with Sean. Oh, no! No thinking about Sean allowed. She quickly moved on. “I like to play cards with my family.” Did she sound boring?
“Yeah? I like to play cards. Poker,” he added.
A sudden image of playing strip poker with Jack Logan came to mind. D
on’t go there, she scolded herself. You barely know this man.
“I like movies, too,” he said.
“Action ones, right?” she guessed.
“Is there any other kind?”
“Romantic comedies. Movies based on Jane Austen books?”
“Who?” She looked at him, shocked, and he laughed. “Just kidding. I know who she is. But I gotta say, those movies bore me to tears. All that...talking.”
“That’s what we’re doing now.”
“Yeah, but this is different. We’re talking about us.”
Of course he meant us as in each of them individually, but she for a moment couldn’t help imagining them as a couple. They might have gotten off to a bumpy start but those bumps were smoothing out nicely. Oh, how she’d like to be an us again with someone. The right someone this time.
“What else do I need to know about you?” he asked. “Are you, by any chance, a nymphomaniac?” Her face flamed and he grinned. “A closet nympho, I bet. But moving on, tell me some more about yourself.”
“I love Christmas.”
“That explains the Christmas wedding,” he murmured.
She shrugged.
“You have poor taste in men.”
“I’m having a drink with you,” she pointed out.
“Your tastes are improving,” he said, saluting her with his beer bottle. “What else?”
“I’d like to travel.” Sean had promised to take her somewhere glamorous for their honeymoon.
“Yeah? Where?”
“Someplace with very blue water and warm beaches. I’ve never been to Hawaii.”
“That’s definitely an oversight.”
“I suppose you have,” she said.
“Yeah. Maui is the best. Waterfalls, great scenery, good hiking. Oh, except you’re not athletic.”
“I can hike. And I love beautiful scenery and waterfalls.” Maybe someday she’d get to Hawaii. She was already having a non-wedding reception. Why not a non-honeymoon?
“Lots of hiking around here,” he said. “Done any of the trails in the Olympics?”
She shook her head. She’d only said she could hike. She hadn’t said she actually had.
Three Christmas Wishes Page 21
