by Heather Hunt
Aging with Gracie
Heather Hunt
Table of Contents
Other Novels by Heather Hunt
Copyright
Acknowledgments
Dedication
Chapter One – Mansfield Parking
Chapter Two – Pride, Pain, and Prejudice
Chapter Three – Scents and Senility
Chapter Four – Nurse North, Anger, and Abby
Chapter Five – Love and “Freindship” (Austen Spelling)
Chapter Six – Persuasion
Chapter Seven – The Three “Sisters”
Chapter Eight – Mr. Clifford’s Memo
Chapter Nine – Emma
Chapter Ten – The Female Philosopher
Chapter Eleven – A Lady Named Susan
Chapter Twelve – The Watsons
Chapter Thirteen – The Visit
Chapter Fourteen – A Novel Plan
Epilogue – Our Beautiful Cassandra
Coming Soon
Other Novels by Heather Hunt
“The Gift Series”
Gifts of Life
Gifts of Hope
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are
either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead,) events, or locations is
entirely coincidental.
Aging with Gracie by Heather Hunt
Copyright © 2012 by Heather King Hunt
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form
or by any electronic means, including information storage and retrieval
systems, without permission in writing from the author except by a
reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.
Scripture taken from the
HOLY BIBLE, King James Version
Cover design: Heather King Hunt
Photo Credits:
© Catzovescu │ Dreamstime.com
“Holding Hands” ID: 6990987
©Judy Kennamer │ Dreamstime.com
“Pink, yellow, and orange note paper on clothesline” ID: 18731270
Acknowledgments
The grace of God is an overwhelming blessing for which I am always thankful. The gift of my family is another such blessing. Thank you to those who have offered such encouragement and support during the publication of my first novel, Gifts of Life. I hope you love “Gracie” as much as I do!
For my “Aunties”...
True characters in every sense of the word!
Chapter One
Mansfield Parking
“What did I ever do to deserve a nursing home?” Grace Woodhouse grumbled over the country music coming from the car stereo, wind whipping through her wavy brown hair as the convertible flew past another tiny mountain town.
“I can’t believe my parents are sticking me in this place.” She glanced toward her front-seat passenger with an expectant look. “Hey, Knightley! Are you even listening to me?”
Her companion looked up from his snack to give her a brief glimpse of his less than sympathetic but soulful, brown eyes.
“Well, I have no idea how to run a place like that.”
Despite her frustration, Grace calmly navigated the curvy, perilous stretch of mountain road. It wasn’t difficult considering the fact that she hadn’t seen a soul for over an hour.
“What was Daddy thinking anyway?” Grace seethed.
Out of the blue, a huge creature ambled toward the center of the yellow line. She jerked hard on the steering wheel in order to avoid a collision. As it was, she barely missed a rusty mailbox on the other side of the road. Knightley, secure in his seatbelt, barely noticed that he’d come close to face-planting a rooster whirligig bolted to the top of what should have been consigned to the garbage heap by the Postal Service twenty years back.
“Sorry, friend,” Grace managed in choppy breaths as she reached over to pat his head. “Goodness gracious, Knightley! Was that a cow? You’ve got to be kidding me!”
Grace took a few calming breaths, pressed a tentative foot to the accelerator, and eased her car off of the soft, grassy shoulder and back onto the road.
“Lord, I’m not sure what you have in store for me way up here in the mountains, but I’m pretty sure I’m not going to like it. Furthermore, the way things are going, I’m not sure I’ll even make it into town.”
Grace squirmed in her seat and stretched against the seatbelt in an effort to work out the tension in her neck. She’d been so stressed over the past few days that she was starting to get a crick! Slamming on the brakes hadn’t done her any favors on that end, either. She could only imagine the fine case of whiplash that loomed in her future…and not even a chiropractor on the horizon!
With her hands still trembling on the steering wheel, she contemplated the chain of events that had landed her in her present predicament. Just last week, over a plate of Belgian waffles and a cup of strong black coffee, her father had broken the news to her…and things had been on a downward spiral ever since!
•∞•∞•
“Sugar Plum, we’ve just bought a little place called Magnolia Manor up in Manhattan,” he’d said with a smile that Grace had immediately thought suspicious. Before she’d been able to comment, he had continued. “I’m sad to say that the place is a mess and needs to be completely overhauled. Trouble is, we have to accomplish everything without putting anyone, especially the old folks, out in the street.”
Upon hearing the word “Manhattan” Grace’s ears had perked up, but the “old folks” tag had quickly sent her thoughts in motion. She had been looking forward to her first major assignment with her father’s company for years and could definitely see herself working in the city. Unfortunately, with the exception of her grandparents and a handful of senior citizens at her church, she had never really been exposed to many elderly people.
“You’re telling me this, why?” she had asked. “And, sir, what exactly did you mean by ‘old folks’?”
She’d arched a perfectly manicured eyebrow as she’d waited for his answer…and had paid dearly for the slight disrespect. As pain streaked across her forehead, she had wondered for the hundredth time why she’d let her mother coerce her into a trip to the salon the previous day. Why did it matter that she’d never had her eyebrows waxed? It was not as if she had a uni-brow…at least, not much of one!
“The place is a retirement home, Sugar Plum, and I’m telling you all this because…” he had paused as he sliced a piece of melon. “Bright and early Monday morning, you’re gonna’ take your pretty little self up there and put that place in order.”
“A retirement home!” Grace had cried out. This was outrageous! Consigning her to the midst of senior citizen blisslessness was almost unspeakable!
Unfortunately, her father had barely noticed her outrage. At least, if he had, he’d given no indication as he’d continued to plunge ahead...with both his plans and his breakfast.
“Your mother and I think that working up there will do you some good,” her father had gone on to say. “She’s even convinced me to rename the place Mansfield Park. Isn’t that right, Honey Bun?”
Evelyn Woodhouse had simply smiled at Grace across the table with that announcement.
“You know what I’ve always thought about that Jane Austen woman, but if it makes your Mama happy, what’s the cost of a few signs? Sounds a little pretentious for North Georgia, but you know how that woman has me wrapped around her finger.”
As sweet as she’d always found her father’s devotion to her mother, Grace had been lost on the last part of his comment.
“Excuse me, Daddy, but
did you just say ‘Georgia’?” She’d barely avoided choking on her last sip of coffee. “Manhattan, Georgia?”
Although she’d been less than enthusiastic about the “old folks” part, the change in location had been the deal-breaker. It was beyond cruel for him to put such a damper on her New York minute. At least the thought of spending the next few months in the Big Apple had been a consolation!
She had watched in horror as he’d nodded.
“Where did you think I was talking about?” he had asked.
“Well, Daddy, I thought you were talking about New York!” she had finally sputtered.
“New York?” With that, he had let loose one of the belly laughs. “Now why in the world would I send my baby up to that den of sin? Your mother would have a conniption fit!”
Mother. It had become clear as her father had continued that her new job was nothing more than another instance of her mother’s inherent desire to micro-manage the life of her only child. Grace had struggled for years to gain her independence…to climb the ladder of success at the Woodhouse Corporation on her own merits…not simply because she was the boss’s daughter. She had hoped that the new position was a step in the right direction.
Unfortunately, to Grace’s dismay, it seemed that Evelyn had once again forced her will into the situation and had won the latest mother-daughter challenge. In spades!
•∞•∞•
Grace, still seething from the memories, let her mind return to the present. She eased her foot off the accelerator and glanced at the GPS map on her phone.
Mr. Knightley, oblivious to Grace’s thoughts, snored softly as she turned off the main highway at a dilapidated sign proclaiming: “Manhattan: A Little Apple in the Big South”.
“Come on,” Grace muttered. “Can you get any cornier than that?” That there were apple orchards of both sides of the road had not made a difference in Grace’s mind.
Another slobbery snore was her friend’s only answer.
Frustrated more at her situation than Mr. Knightley’s lack of sympathy, Grace took a quick peek at her directions and wondered if the small town’s streets had even made it into the map’s directory. Unlikely, she decided as she spotted a Magnolia Manor sign nailed to a large pine tree.
Grace shook her head in dismay and fought the tears pricking her eyelids. All the while, she thought to herself that it was really too bad life never turned out the way you imagined it might when you were six years old and filling out the “What I Want to Be When I Grow Up” section of your scrapbook.
Marine Biologist? Flight Attendant? Absolutely! Any kid would agree that those careers rocked! Grace had even dreamed of having such an exciting career...at least until she’d watched a movie about sharks and learned about the airline industry’s strict adherence to weight limits.
As she grew older, however, Grace had focused her efforts on a career with her father. After all, he was her hero, and she had great aspirations of being at his side. Of learning from the best in the business.
Unfortunately, her dreams of becoming a chip off the old block in no way resembled being hijacked to the most remote, most backwoods, hillbilly place on the planet! Never in a million years had she imagined herself working with a group of dried-up old prunes who wore support hose and blue eye shadow!
She followed a series of spray-painted arrows and finally reached an oak-lined dirt driveway straight out of a scene from Gone with the Wind...not at the beginning of the war, but more as it might have looked a few days after Sherman’s troops vacated the great city of Atlanta and headed on south toward Savannah. In other words, completely and appallingly trashed.
As Grace pulled her classic T-bird convertible into a reserved parking space in front of what appeared to be Magnolia Manor, she was still in shock that her father had foisted the unreasonable assignment on her. To her credit, though, one thing Grace Woodhouse had never been was a coward. She had learned long ago that unreasonable fear had no place in her life. After all, she’d memorized the story of David and Goliath by the time she was two years old. She knew that God had better plans for her life than to let a little fear ruin things. Didn’t he?
“Say to those with anxious heart. Take courage, fear not.” The verse from her morning devotional came to mind. That one certainly applied to her. She was usually very even-tempered, but today, her nerves were on edge.
Anxious. Yes, that term fit her mood perfectly. She let out a weary sigh. Whether she liked her present situation or not, she had arrived...in every sense of the word.
As she looked at the formidable structure from the leather-seated safety of her high school graduation gift, she wondered if she should have used some of her savings for something other than the laser eye surgery she had chosen. Myopia would have been a gift right about now. If not for her corrected vision, she would have at least been able to take off her old wire-rimmed glasses and let the sight before her fade into a soft, opaque haze.
But such were the choices of youth...and like it or not, a person always ended up reaping what was sown. If only she’d taken that internship with the university’s agriculture firm. Had she only known that the farming industry was the better of her choices, she would have jumped in with both feet. If only...
But when her father had said, “Grace, honey, you need to get your feet wet in the family business,” she had imagined something more along the lines of their Key West hotel...or the Woodhouse Spa and Health Club in Asheville. Entering a world of multivitamins and stool softeners in the pits of Appalachia had certainly not been on her agenda!
She took a deep breath and attached Mr. Knightley’s leash to his rhinestone-studded, black collar. He nudged her leg anxiously as if he, too, was unsure of their destination.
Grace barely noticed the line of doggie drool across the front of her skirt. To her mother’s dismay, she’d never been interested in fashion, and for Grace, the fact that the dog had basically sabotaged her mother’s attempt at a power suit was simply poetic justice. If only he’d stolen one of her new leather slingbacks for a chew toy, then she could have traded the entire look for jeans and a pair of Nikes. As it was, she would simply have to endure. She looked down at her shoes and cringed. Her toes were hurting so badly that the state of the rest of her outfit was inconsequential! The fashion-minded Evelyn Woodhouse had struck again, and Grace was paying the penalty.
Although the pain in her toes had surpassed unbearable, it was nothing compared to the misery she had endured while trying to meet the decrees of the image consultant her mother had hired a few weeks ago. She lifted her eyes to heaven at the memory. It had amazed Grace that the water-sipping, celery-snacking rail had not been able to understand that some people, Grace in particular, would never fit into a size two outfit! The woman had finally thrown her hands up and quit when Grace refused a series of chelation therapy treatments and a trip to a purifying sauna for wheatgrass enemas.
Grace grimaced at the image. For crying out loud! It had already taken her an entire month to grow her bangs out to the point that she could tuck her hair behind her ears. She couldn’t even imagine the shape her body would have been in had she followed the woman’s other advice.
Regardless of her present footwear, however painful it might be, the thought of getting her feet wet...in a nursing home, of all places...was more than a little intimidating. Nauseating was more the term she was looking for, and as her family could attest, one thing Emma Grace Woodhouse had never done well was nausea.
She glanced toward the scene before her and forced herself to keep her eyes open. She did a quick visual survey of the exterior of the building. Its appearance was appalling to say the least. Not only was the paint peeling, but the crepe myrtles lining the sidewalk were way past the pruning stage, and there wasn’t a rocking chair in sight.
Where are the rocking chairs? Grace released a disgusted sigh.
It was a fact known by everyone in the universe…or at least the Deep South, that old people needed rocking chairs. They wer
e a necessity, for crying out loud! What else was there to do on a nice autumn day but sit on the porch and chat about the “good old days”?
She let out an irate huff and checked her lipstick. Seeing everything in order, she climbed neatly out of her low-slung chariot and shouldered her new Cole Haan tote...another of her mother’s purchases.
“After all,” she had explained to Grace, “Every professional woman needs to project a certain look.”
Grace looked down at her outfit and laughed to herself. Her power suit was faring just about as she’d expected. The black wool was covered in dog hair and the seams of the updated, stylish ensemble were stretched to near-capacity. Grace wasn’t concerned, though. She had packed plenty of jeans and tee-shirts. From the look of things, they would be more appropriate for her work here, anyway.
Grace’s father had not exaggerated when he’d said things were in a mess at the retirement home. Something was definitely wrong, and Grace decided then and there that her personal agenda would have to take the back-burner. The place definitely needed a makeover, and she was just the person to do it!
She tightened her grip on Mr. Knightley’s leash and had barely conquered the first step of the long, low-country style front porch when she was pushed aside by the first in a long line of green-vested, pigtailed girls. There were at least twenty of them, identically outfitted except for the varied badges of service that their mothers had immaculately sewn in places of honor along the sashes crisscrossing their pre-pubescent chests.
Grace glanced their way and attempted to give the fearless juveniles her most annoyed look. As she opened her mouth to give them a piece of her mind, she remembered the business at hand. She was on a corporate mission, and she was bound and determined that a group of cookie-selling do-gooders would not ruin her first day at work.
“Please, ladies,” Grace pasted a sweet smile on her face. “Go on in. I hope you have a wonderful time today.”
