Destiny’s grin grew.
“Now, Charlie, that’s not a nice thing to say. That’s her friend, and she’s a nice girl.”
“I’m sure she is. Just don’t understand it, that’s all,” he muttered.
“Well, Honey, you don’t worry about the unimportant things like what color the girl’s hair is and focus on the perplexities of the world that are more important, like how you’re going to win that game.” Jessie walked with Destiny toward the door.
“Bye, Charlie,” Destiny said with a wave. “Bye, Sydney,” she added.
The young girl turned and looked at her, perplexed, waved her direction and then went back to watching her movie.
“Hrrmph,” Charlie growled, as he took the puzzle out of the bag.
“To him, it’s like a Rubik’s Cube. It’ll keep him stumped for hours,” Jessie added.
“I heard that!” Charlie hollered from his chair.
“You ain’t heard nothin, old man,” she laughed. “Not since your daddy shot off the rifle right by your ear when you was ten.”
“Huh?”
“See what I mean. Deaf as he is mean,” Jessie added, saying the last part a little louder before glancing his direction.
“What?” Charlie asked.
Destiny turned at the door. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“You come on out any time.” Jessie reached to hug her.
Destiny welcomed the embrace, closing her eyes. “Thank you.” It felt good to be hugged. Daily intimacy was just one of the things that she missed. Throwing a wave over her shoulder, she walked to her car and looked up into the bright, clear sky. The wind blew just slightly and the still warm Texas evening air felt good on her skin. Texas weather was fickle; sometimes the changes were subtle, sometimes more drastic. It could be in the hundreds one day and thirty the next when a cold front blew through. Today was perfect.
As she started her little Sonic, the headlights flashed on. Phillip was a Chevy man, and after he died, Destiny still felt true to his tastes and his traditions. So, she sold both their cars, and using the remaining money from paying them off, and some of the insurance money, she bought the most practical, energy efficient Chevy on the market. Her cell phone rang in her purse, and she dug to find it before it stopped ringing.
“Hello?”
“You on your way?”
“Leaving now. I’m fifteen minutes away.”
“Hurry up!” Lisa insisted. “There’s this adorable guy here you just have to meet.”
“Not there to meet men,” Destiny stated firmly.
“See you in a bit.” Before Destiny could respond, Lisa hung up.
Destiny stared at her phone, growling, and dropped it back into her purse. It wasn’t the first time her friend had conveniently introduced her to single men she knew. But she wasn’t ready. Maybe she’d never be ready. It wasn’t something she wanted to think about at this point. Destiny looked at herself in the rearview mirror, hesitating. Then she sighed and backed her car away from the fence, heading back the same way she came, leaving a cloud of dust behind her.
Chapter 10
The newlyweds walked up the steps to the porch that wrapped completely around the restored historic house. They arrived at the front door, dragging their luggage behind them, a resounding thud repeating as the wheels traveled from step to step. Bill greeted them at the doorway and took their bags.
“Mr. and Mrs. Walker, I’m so glad you made it. Your room is all ready,” he smiled. “I’m William Ireland, the owner. I talked to you on the phone. But you can call me Bill.” He shook their hands. “I’ll take your bags up to your room if you’d like to go into the library. We’ve baked some cookies for you. They’re still warm.”
The couple grinned at each other. “We could smell them when we walked in,” the young bride answered excitedly. “I’m Jeannie, and this is Butch.”
“Welcome and congratulations on your nuptials,” Bill said. “There’s a carafe of ice-cold milk and another of iced water to enjoy with your cookies. Please help yourselves.”
“Thank you.” Butch turned to his wife and with a gentle touch of his hand led her into the library.
Bill dragged the suitcase up the carpeted stairs and into the bridal suite, which was actually the original master bedroom of the ten-bedroom home. He and Sydney occupied the only two bedrooms on the first floor, each with its own bathroom which had been added ten years before he purchased the property. He had originally occupied the second floor but rarely rented out the smaller rooms on the first floor. Most of his inquiries were for the larger rooms upstairs, that had extended views of the gardens, so he thought he would experiment with a room swap to see if it made a difference. Once he traded their residence, he sold out all of his rooms regularly. The relocation worked better for him as well, since he didn’t worry as much about Sydney running up and down the stairs several times a day when she was younger. Although, Bill was sure she did it anyhow, only when he wasn’t looking.
Bill took great care in pampering his guests. They provided the best soaps, body washes, shampoos and bath salts, all from Austin producers. Every morning their guests dined on exquisite breakfasts, all hand prepared, either by himself, his house manager or a chef they hired on occasion—when overrun with business. And they only purchased from local farmers and purveyors also, to support small businesses.
The Kemper House and Gardens Bed and Breakfast was renowned in Texas and listed as one of the top 20 in the state by Texas Monthly and Texas Highways. In the eight years since he’d purchased and renovated it, they had been featured in no less than a dozen national travel magazines. Since opening, it had been visited by senators and congressman, stars of television and film, musical performers, and presidential hopefuls. Not to mention twelve seven-year-olds for a slumber party for Sydney’s last birthday.
Sydney had requested a princess tea party, complete with makeovers and character costumes. One of the children’s parents, a reporter for the Austin American-Statesman, thought it would make an excellent article for the Leisure section of the paper one Sunday. Suddenly Bill began getting phone calls inquiring about the availability of the property for other similar parties, such as birthdays, rehearsal dinners, Christmas parties, and even wedding receptions.
The house sat on almost ten acres; it was gated, complete with beautifully manicured gardens and water features that emptied into a one-acre pond. There were paved walking paths that crisscrossed through the property and a gazebo. After that article, they went from being booked every weekend, to being booked almost every day, which made it difficult for Bill to spend the time he wanted to with Sydney. But he refused to be an absentee father. So, he added two other warm bodies that would welcome guests, cook and in general, wait on guests as needed—basically, everything he already did. One of them, Deborah, was allowed to live in an attic room that they renovated but never had success renting out since it was much smaller than all the other rooms.
Within three years of opening he had recovered all his expenses on renovations and was turning a profit. He had been offered over a million dollars on two occasions to sell though he hadn’t even listed it. Bill turned them both down. It wasn’t that he was holding out for more; it was his home; a home that he shared with strangers, but more than that, a home that he shared with Sydney. It was the only home she’d ever known. She loved meeting new people every week, sometimes, every day. They lived close to her school. It was a safe neighborhood. And Sydney had friends nearby with whom she could play. Of course, they preferred coming to the Kemper House because they could play hide and seek in the gardens or swim in the pool at the base of the waterfall. Bill much preferred that to Sydney sitting in her room playing video games. However, he had to balance the fact that their home was also a place of business and a bunch of screaming seven and eight-year-olds weren’t usually what the guests expected when they were visiting.
Deborah peeked her head into the kitchen. “You ready for me to take over?”
>
“Absolutely.” Bill wiped his hands on the apron. He untied it, took it off, and then tossed it into the laundry basket in a corner of the kitchen by the pastel blue wall. “The Walkers just checked in—Butch and Jeannie. I’ve already taken their bags up. I saw them walking out in the gardens a few minutes ago.”
“Beautiful night for a walk,” she smiled, putting on her apron. “The rolls rising for morning?” she asked, as she mentally inventoried the prepared items for breakfast. “Everyone else checked in for the night?”
“All checked in,” he confirmed. Bill turned to face her.
“Oh, my God! What happened to your nose?”
“Long story,” he began. “Let’s just say that I’ll be using the mahogany desk for kindling come winter.”
Deborah snickered into her hand.
“I’m going to go and check on Sydney. Please make sure she doesn’t stay up too late, okay?” He narrowed his eyes playfully. “And no late night Coke floats,” he added with a wag of the finger. “She was bouncing off the walls when I got home last week.”
Deborah smiled, after tasting a finger full of icing from the beaters that she was about to spread on the still-warm chocolate cake. “Yeah,” she crinkled her lips. “Sorry about that. Blame that on my blind trust of an eight-year-old with beautiful eyes and an adorable smile.”
“You should know better. Even an eight-year-old knows how to work those beautiful eyes and that adorable smile. Trust me, when she’s working you, she has an ulterior motive. This comes from someone who’s been worked by that same child. Once she wraps you around her little finger, she owns you.”
Deborah laughed. “How many for breakfast?”
“Twelve tomorrow and sixteen, Sunday.”
“Allergies?”
“One gluten free, one diabetic, one lactose intolerant.”
“Right.” Deborah turned back to the menu, running her finger over the recipes for the following day. She’d either make the adjustments or use completely new recipes for those with allergies. “Will you be late tonight?”
“Not too late.” They walked together toward his living space. “Bingo night again at the Senior Center. If they aren’t done and gone by nine, I’d be totally surprised.”
“I don’t know. I’ve seen some pretty spry eighty-year-olds. Who knows, maybe they’ll catch their second wind and last til midnight.”
“God, I hope not,” he chuckled. “I’d be a sad sight if they outlasted me.”
“I’ll take care of everything,” she smiled, as she walked up the stairs.
“I know you will,” he winked. “Thanks, Deb. For everything.”
“No, thank you. If it weren’t for you, I’d be homeless.”
He arrived at Sydney’s room. Deborah smiled and walked on up the stairs. Bill peeked into his daughter’s room. She was lying in bed, in her Cinderella dress, reading Cinderella. “Hey, Sweetheart. Dressing the part, I see.”
Sydney beamed. “Hey, Daddy. You leaving?”
“Yes, Sweetie. But Deborah’s here, and she’ll get you in bed.”
Sydney grinned.
“No Coke floats.”
Sydney’s smile faded.
“You can have ice cream, though,” he countered. “One scoop.”
“I guess that’s acceptable,” she said matter-of-factly as she closed her book.
“Oh, well,” he scoffed. “I’m glad that’s acceptable.”
“Park tomorrow?”
“Park tomorrow,” he promised as he kissed her on the head. “Bed by nine.”
She rolled her eyes back to her book.
“Nine,” he repeated.
She sighed dramatically. “Fine.”
Bill narrowed his eyes.
Suddenly a smile grew on her face, and she stood on her bed and jumped into his arms. “Just kidding!”
“You’re lucky I love you so much.” Bill turned her in his grip, then dropped her back onto her bed.
“And you’re lucky I love you so much.”
“Yes.” Her father brushed back her straight black hair and kissed her forehead. “Yes, I am.”
“Be good.” Sydney wagged her finger at him as he turned to leave.
“Always.” Bill closed the door and smiled to himself. “Eight going on eighteen,” he remarked under his breath with a shake of his head. “God help me.”
Chapter 11
Destiny drove behind the Senior Center as per Lisa’s instructions and parked under a light, as Phillip had always taught her. Growing up in the country, she didn’t use to worry about such things. Living in a big city had its perks, and sometimes its pitfalls. Phillip was as overprotective as he was practical. He made sure she had mace in her purse, a key fob with an alarm and even gave her a gift certificate for self-protection classes one Christmas. Though she had rolled her eyes at the time, nine months later she was attacked by a purse snatcher in broad daylight. In class, she was taught to give up her purse. However, she had thousands of dollars of cash and gift cards in her purse for a church fundraiser, and somehow couldn’t bear just to let it go. Grateful, at that point, for the classes, she not only managed to keep her purse but gave the perpetrator a bloodied nose. Many of those who witnessed the whole occurrence and rushed to her aid, arrived just after she nailed him in the groin, bringing him to his knees. Some applauded her while the rest sat on the young man until the police arrived.
The parking lot was full. Destiny stepped through the metal door at the back entrance. Tentatively, she walked down the hallway into the bustling hall. The old Senior Center smelled of popcorn and potpourri. The potpourri was to cover the faint smell of cigarettes—a smell that still clung to the insulation and had become a part of the sheetrock—from decades before they implemented a no smoking policy. After being an extrovert most of her life, she had become more introverted since burying her son and husband. So, with every step she took now, she contemplated turning and leaving. But she knew Lisa would only track her down and drag her back. Destiny drew in a deep breath for courage and then entered the main hall.
The bingo caller was rapidly speaking letter and number combinations into a microphone, while men and women sat expectantly in metal chairs around folding tables, poised to stamp in unison once their numbers were confirmed. Some of them had three cards each, their allotted limit for every game. They methodically perused each card in rapid succession to try and stay ahead of the bingo caller as well as the other players. Every fifteen seconds, a new number was called, mostly to assure that they could get in as many games as possible before eight-thirty.
It wasn’t hard to spot Lisa. She stood out like a parade float on a city street. She was sitting beside a man in a wheelchair who was breathing with the assistance of an oxygen tank, helping him fill his card. Destiny smiled. Lisa didn’t care how differently she dressed, or how much she looked like she didn’t fit in. Her heart was in the right place. These people welcomed her and talked to her as though she was one of them.
Destiny and Lisa had been best friends since childhood though their paths through the years had been different. Lisa became an entrepreneur. Destiny, by fate, ended up the head of a household at seventeen. When she wasn’t in school, she was working to help make ends meet. Her parents weren’t planners like Phillip. They each had purchased just enough life insurance to pay for their funerals. Barely. Destiny and Andy were able to collect Social Security after their parents’ deaths. Her brother wanted to go to college and had to depend on scholarships and student loans until they finally sold their family home. Destiny, on the other hand, not only had a full scholarship but applied for enough additional ones to cover the cost of her books and dorm expenses.
Destiny watched Lisa interact with the elderly men on either side of her. Both of them were in wheelchairs. In fact, practically a fourth of those around the tables were in wheelchairs, chuckling and nudging each other in jest. Lisa looked up and spied Destiny. She waved and rushed to Destiny’s side. Immediately she grabbed her best friend
by the arm and led her to their table. Lisa stood just behind her friends, waiting for someone, anyone to say “bingo.” That would give her a fifteen-minute break for introductions. A moment later one of the men sitting beside Lisa yelled: “‘Bingo!” Everyone else groaned with disappointment, then immediately stood to either grab something to eat at the concession stand, run outside for a quick smoke, pee, or swap out bingo cards.
“Dee, I would like you to meet my friends, Harry, and Ralph.”
Ralph wheeled his chair backward a few inches, holding out his hand, taking deep breaths in between sentences. “Lisa tells me,” he began, drawing breath from his portable oxygen tank. “This is your first time here.”
Harry, one of the oldest men there, wore a baseball cap with “American Veteran” sewn across the front, adorned with assorted pins and flags, from various units and states. He also wore a vest with “Veteran of Foreign Wars” embroidered across the back, plus more pins, and several patches. “Can’t understand why two lovely young ladies like you would want to hang out with a bunch of old geezers like us rather than going out with some young whippersnappers.”
“Ah, Harry,” Lisa smiled, kissing his cheek. “You know I like older men.” She winked at Destiny. “Besides, with you guys I don’t have to worry about anyone hitting on me and then disappointing me.”
Destiny grinned.
Ralph laughed, causing himself to cough. “Speak for yourself, Harry,” he gasped, then coughed once more. “I, myself, like the attention.” He drew in a deep breath. “This is the most action I get all week.” He looked at Lisa and tapped his cheek. She obliged him by kissing it.
“You fellas thirsty?”
“I’ll take a margarita,” Harry grinned.
“Make mine a double,” Ralph added.
Lisa narrowed her eyes. “We’ll see what we can do.” She turned to Destiny and took her by the arm. “Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet.”
Destiny stopped walking and cringed. “Aww, Lisa.”
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