by Melinda Metz
“Can I help?” Briony asked. She just wanted them gone. They’d both been really welcoming, but she hadn’t been alone since she started dressing for the wedding yesterday—yesterday! She still had her wedding hairdo and had on the maxi dress she’d been planning to wear on the plane to her own honeymoon. She needed privacy to cry or scream or collapse or something.
“No, thanks. I’ve got it.” David left again.
“My car!” Jamie exclaimed. “I knew I was forgetting something. You should use my car. Bright green Bug. Parked on Gower. That’s the street that runs past the fountain in the courtyard. You can see the car from there. No parking in the complex.” Jamie pulled a set of keys out of one of the cabinet drawers and put them on the table.
“Great. Thanks. Thanks so much. I’m sorry I showed up just when you’re—”
Jamie held her hand out, palm facing Briony. “Stop. I told you your timing is perfect.”
“Okay, we’re all set, Jam!” David called.
“He calls me Jam sometimes,” Jamie said. “He’s so cute.” She stood and swept Mac into her arms. “Okay, best kitty in the world. You be good for Briony. I’ll see you soon, and I’ll bring you a present.” She buried her face in his fur for a moment and gave him a cuddle. “I’m going to put him upstairs and say good-bye to Diogee, but expect Mr. MacGyver to be back down in a few,” she told Briony.
“Okay,” Briony answered. She followed Jamie out of the kitchen, then went outside where David was waiting by the car. He’d been just as nice as Jamie had, but what could he think of her after what she’d done to Caleb? She pushed the thought away. Everything wasn’t about her. “So a month in Morocco. Wow.” Her mom had filled her in on Jamie and David’s plans.
“It’s all thanks to a movie producer who loves my mojito cupcakes,” David explained. “When he heard I was getting married, he offered me and Jamie the use of his vacation place in Essaouira.”
“Can I admit I don’t know where that is?” Briony asked.
David laughed. “Neither did I. It’s on the Atlantic coast, about a three-hour drive from Marrakesh. We wanted to—”
“Morocco, here we come!” Jamie exclaimed as she rushed out the front door. She practically skipped over to them. “I hope Storybook Court is as wonderful for you as it was for me. Coming here changed my life.” Jamie smiled up at David.
Go; just please go, Briony thought. All the happy physically hurt. She should be going on her honeymoon now. With the perfect guy. What was wrong with her?
Finally, the happy—happy, happy, happy—couple was in the car. The car pulled away. Briony watched until it disappeared around the gentle curve at the end of the street.
Then she went inside.
Shut the door.
Locked it.
Closed the round wooden shutters that matched the adorable hobbit hole of a house, blocking out the bright Southern California sunshine.
Then lay down on the sofa.
All she wanted was oblivion. But her mind wouldn’t stop spinning, slamming images at her—Caleb smiling at her from beside the altar, her great-aunt MeMe’s mouth flying open as Briony started to fall, her parents pretending not to be horribly disappointed in her as they took her to the airport.
Something plopped down on her belly, jerking her out of her mental horror movie. Briony cracked open her eyes. The cat—MacGyver—stared back, then began to purr. It was . . . nice. The cat’s warmth radiated into her, and the purr’s vibrations somehow relaxed her muscles.
A few minutes later, the dog—Diogee—ambled over and managed to squeeze his ginormous body onto the end of the sofa. A spot of warm drool quickly formed above one of her knees. That shouldn’t have been soothing. But it was—gross and soothing. And the sound of his snoring as he drifted off seemed to invite sleep to come to her. She closed her eyes again, grateful to the two animals, even though she didn’t deserve even their small comforts. Not after what she did.
CHAPTER 2
The woman’s breaths were slow and even. The bonehead was making those wheezy snorts that meant he was asleep, too. But Mac was full of energy. It was time for adventure.
He leapt down to the floor then gave the mutt a claws-in whap on the butt. Diogee came awake with a snort, two long stings of slobber hanging from his mouth. The bonehead was disgusting, but he could be useful. Mac trotted into the kitchen, launched himself onto the counter, and deftly released the latch of Diogee’s treat jar. He used one paw to flip out a biscuit. Diogee was already down below, whining for it. No cat would ever whine. Or eat something that smelled like dust.
Mac looked over at the round window that was too high for him to reach, or so his people thought. He aimed, then—slap shot—whapped the biscuit off the counter and onto the floor directly underneath the window. Diogee raced over and lowered his head toward what the dog thought of as a treat. Perfect. Mac jumped onto his head. Diogee jerked his head up, surprised. And alley-oop, Mac got a boost to the window ledge. He head-butted the window open and escaped into the night.
He paused for a moment on the lawn, savoring every scent. Mac loved the familiar smells of home, but he was ready for excitement, and his own backyard wasn’t the place to find it. Not tonight. He loped through Storybook Court, past all the houses he’d come to know so well. Most of the humans were smelling content. Thanks to him. He’d helped where he could. It was the duty of a higher creature.
Mac came to an abrupt stop, nostrils twitching. Sardinsies. Sardinsies were close. He began to run, streaking toward the delicious odor. He left the boundary of the complex behind and entered new territory. Unfamiliar scents all called to be investigated. He’d get to them. Later.
For now, all his attention was locked on the smell of the sardines. He zeroed in on the scent and only stopped when he reached a bungalow with walls blocking his way to his beloved. But not for long. The first option Mac noticed for breaking in was the chimney. There might be an easier way, but he wasn’t going to wait to find it. He climbed a palm tree near the side of the house that gave him access to the roof. Then it was down the chimney, bracing each forepaw on opposite sides of the tunnel. Same with the back paws. Then one, two, three, four, five, he was in.
The sardines were close, so close. But so was a human. A male sat facing the television, his back to Mac. On the table beside the chair was an open can of the yummies.
Mac went into stealth mode, lowering his body until his belly brushed the carpet. The bonehead would have galloped up and started whining to be given a morsel. Mac didn’t beg. Mac took. He crept forward until he was in position, then reared up on his back legs and started to swipe the can off the table.
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” the man yelled, snatching the beloveds out of reach. Humiliation flooded Mac. He turned and slunk toward the chimney, tail between his legs. Like a dog. He didn’t want to remain at the site of his epic fail for another second.
The man let out a sigh. “What the hell. Someone might as well have a good night.” The smell of sardines grew slightly stronger. Mac looked back. Two glistening little beauties were cradled in the man’s outstretched hand.
He turned, raising his tail halfway up. He pressed his ears back as he assessed the situation. The sardines’ little eyes seemed to be pleading for him to come closer. The man remained motionless. It could be a trap. But Mac wasn’t afraid of traps. There hadn’t been one invented he couldn’t escape.
A few seconds later, the first oil-slick little fish was sliding down Mac’s throat. He could almost feel its little tail wiggle. Perfection.
“You like that, huh?” the man blah-blahed. “I like ’em too. Especially because I get to eat them with good company. Unlike in the dining room.” He ate a sardine as Mac crunched the little bones of his second fish.
Mac was filled with sardine-eating joy, which increased when the man handed over a third. But once he’d swallowed, it occurred to him that the man wasn’t feeling equal bliss. Even if he lived a thousand lives, Mac didn’t
think he’d ever completely understand humans. He pulled in a long breath, fighting to ignore the odor of sardines. Mac let out a little huff. He already had an unhappy person at home to deal with. But when the man handed Mac another sardine, Mac knew he had to find a way to help this human, too. He deserved it.
* * *
Nate Acosta stepped into the dining room. He was met with the subtle scents of citrus and bergamot from the aromatic oil vaporizing into the air ducts. His granddad had noticed similar systems in Vegas casino ventilation systems and installed one. He wanted the dining room and the rest of the community center to feel like an elegant luxury hotel and believed scent was as important as décor.
The room looked good. The servers attentive. The residents and their guests enjoying the feta turkey burgers and peach slaw. He made a mental note to stop in at the kitchen and compliment LeeAnne, the chef. It had been a coup when he’d lured her away from Suncafe.
His gaze snagged on the fiddle-leaf fig in the corner. It was starting to get bushy. He needed to find some time to do some pruning and maybe some notching. July was a good time of year for it. The plant would have had time to build up some good energy resources. He squinted, envisioning the umbrella shape he wanted, as he tried to decide where he wanted to encourage branching.
A burst of laughter drew his attention to a table by the window. Looked like the new tenant, Archie Pendergast, was settling in. He was dining with Peggy Suarez, Regina Towner, and Janet Bowman, three of the most popular ladies at The Gardens. Rich Jacobs, the community’s resident limerickist, with the business cards to prove it, was also at the table, scribbling in a small notebook with one hand while munching on the burger held in his other.
“Want to hear my latest?” Rich called to Nate as he headed toward the group.
“Always,” Nate answered. He took the empty seat, the one that usually belonged to Gib Gibson. Gib hadn’t come to eat in the dining room in three nights. Nate suspected that seeing Peggy flirting with Archie turned Gib’s stomach. It was obvious to Nate, if not to Peggy, that Gib had a thing for her.
Rich held up the notebook, cleared this throat, and began to read. “ ‘There once was a man named Pendergast/Who made all the ladies sigh and gasp/They were all quite keen/To be his fair queen/But he’d ne’er be caught in an iron grasp.’ ”
Archie ran his hand over his thinning white hair. “You’re making me sound like a cake-eater, Rich.”
“A what?” Peggy asked, leaning in close to him with a smile that showed off her dimples. Yeah, that was exactly the kind of thing Gib wouldn’t want to have to watch.
“You know, a ladies’ man,” Archie answered. “I was married to the same woman for almost fifty years. She was my one and only.”
Peggy, Regina, and Janet gave a synchronized sigh. They were goners. Nate could tell they’d all paid special attention to their looks tonight. Peggy was wearing a skirt Nate was pretty sure was new, full, with a large floral pattern around the hem. Regina’s blond bob looked like it had new, though subtle, highlights, and Janet had completely changed her hair color, going from a deep burgundy to a nothing-subtle-about-it bright cherry red with lipstick to match.
Hearing about Archie’s devotion to his late wife had clearly made him an even more romantic figure. It didn’t hurt that he was fit for a guy in his late seventies and he took care with his appearance. So far, he’d come to dinner every night in a jacket, pressed white shirt, and bow tie. Unlike, say, Rich, who favored wildly colored track suits with equally wildly colored sneakers.
“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Regina reached across the table and put her hand on Archie’s arm.
“Reggie, would you like to try this wonderful new lotion I just discovered?” Janet asked, rummaging in her purse. “You were saying this morning that you hated how scaly your skin had gotten.” She held out a small tube to Regina, who managed to simultaneously glare at her friend and smile at Archie.
“Applesauce!” Archie said. “Her fingers are as soft as silk.”
“Thank you,” Regina answered, slowly drawing her hand away. She was smiling at Janet now, a triumphant smile.
“It’s so wonderful you had a marriage like that. Poor Regina was married four times,” Janet told Archie.
Nate hoped the competition for Archie’s attention didn’t get to be a problem. There’d been a few times when a new tenant had upset the equilibrium of the place. He’d keep an eye on it. Before Regina could take a swipe back at Janet, he said, “I hear you three ladies are getting up an art show.”
“That’s right. We want to show off what we’ve been learning in class,” Peggy answered. “We’re even getting a local art critic to come in to judge.”
Archie wagged his bushy gray brows. “I’m sure there won’t be anything prettier in the show than you three ladies.” That got blushes and giggles from all three women. Nate was glad he’d included them all.
“Be careful, Grandpa. You don’t want to break any hearts.”
Nate looked toward the sound of the high, sweet voice and saw Eliza, Archie’s granddaughter, heading toward them. Her white blouse was buttoned all the way up to her throat, and her flowered skirt hit below the knee. She reminded him of an old-fashioned schoolteacher, one the boys in class would all have had crushes on.
Peggy tossed her thick silver braid over one shoulder. “Don’t worry on my account. I’m always the one who does the heart breaking.” She winked at Archie, and he winked back. Something else Gib wouldn’t want to see. Nate made a mental note to check on him. If he knew Gib, the man was living on beans, sardines, and any other foods he could eat straight out of a can. Plus a few beers. Skipping meals in the dining room once in a while was no big deal, but he didn’t want Gib to make a habit of it.
“Eliza, have a seat.” Nate stood up to make room. Archie’s granddaughter had been at The Gardens at some point every day since Archie arrived. She had to be pleased to see how well Archie was doing. Moving to a retirement community could be a tough transition, but Archie had very quickly made a place for himself. In a little more than a week, he’d gone on a movie trip, attended a Social Security chat, and been a game-night star.
“Would you mind if I sat next to Grandpa?” Eliza asked Peggy.
That’s not—” Archie began, but Peggy was already moving to the chair Nate had vacated.
“Thank you.” Eliza sat, then reached over and straightened Archie’s bow tie. He gave her fingers a squeeze.
“I like seeing a granddaughter looking after her grandpa.” Rich popped a forkful of slaw into his mouth. “I have three, but they’re scattered all over the country. We exchange messages on Facebook and we do FaceTime. But it’s not the same. At least my grandson’s nearby, over at UCLA. I’ve offered to pay the girls’ way here for a visit, but no go. They’re all too busy.” A gleam came into his eye. “I think there’s a poem in there.” He took his little pencil from behind his ear and flipped to a new page in his notebook.
“I think it’s wonderful that you use FaceTime and Facebook to stay in touch,” Regina commented.
“You almost made me drop my pencil,” he told her. “Here I had the impression you didn’t think I had one admirable quality.”
“You don’t have many,” she answered. “Those shoes, Rich.”
Nate checked out the sneakers. Today’s were cheetah print. Purple cheetah print, with twisty no-tie shoelaces in neon orange.
“I think it’s great that you’ve kept up with current technology, too,” Eliza said. Rich gave a grunt, already writing in the notebook. “My grandpa won’t even own a computer.”
“Too dang complicated. And unnecessary,” Archie insisted, then used two fingers to smooth down his mustache.
“I could teach you the basics,” Peggy volunteered. “I couldn’t live without Google.”
“Goggle at Google,” Rich muttered, erasing a line.
“I might just take you up on that,” Archie told Peggy.
“If you want to learn how to use
a computer, I’m the one who should teach you,” Regina said. “I was a programmer for almost forty years.”
“You know too much to make a good teacher,” Janet said. “You’d give him way too much information.”
“I’ll probably need help from all three of you shebas to understand one of those machines,” Archie answered.
He knew how to be diplomatic. That was good, Nate thought. He checked the clock. He wanted to hit the kitchen to compliment LeeAnne. He’d discovered compliments were her kryptonite. When he was trying to hire her away from Suncafe, a higher salary or more staff wouldn’t do it. What got her was appreciation. “I’m heading out. Have a good night, everyone. Good to see you, Eliza. Have you eaten? I should have asked before. I can get you a plate.” Nate encouraged the residents’ families to stay for meals.
“No thanks. I can share with Grandpa.” She picked up his burger and took a bite.
That was a little weird. But kind of sweet, too. It was probably something that had started when she was a little girl, sharing a PB & J with her grandfather.
“Okay. Hope to see you soon.”
“Oh, you will,” Eliza said.
Nate gave the group a wave and started across the dining room, shooting a look at the fiddle-leaf fig. His fingers were itching to get to work on it. Maybe he should use some waxed string to coax the branches into place.... But there wasn’t time to tend to the plant now. He had a ton of paperwork waiting for him.
As soon as he entered the kitchen, he knew he’d timed things wrong. LeeAnne and her crew were getting dessert ready for the servers. Not the time to hand out a few compliments. He sat down at the big table where staff had meals, and without asking Hope put down a plate with a burger and slaw in front of him. A moment later, she returned with an iced tea, lemon, and light sugar, his beverage of choice.
Hope wasn’t giving him special boss treatment. Her biggest skill was seeing what was needed and doing it. She did a little of everything, from getting orders for the residents who were no longer able to eat in the dining room to meeting with vendors and placing orders. “What’s dessert?” he asked.