The Big 5-OH!

by Sandra D. Bricker

  Liv didn’t like all the questions, especially before eight in the morning. She eyed Clayton with caution as he fetched his hearing aids from a nearby table and twisted them into his ears.

  “Mr. Clydesdale, I’m going to be here for the next two weeks, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t just let yourself into the pool while I’m here.”

  “Gotta do my laps,” the old man grunted as he adjusted one of the aids in his ear. “Don’t know how to do that without letting myself into the pool.”

  “Maybe you could use the community pool,” she suggested. “I saw that there's a very nice one just a block over. Only while I’m here, if you wouldn’t mind.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Well, I’d appreciate it if—”

  “Maybe not.”

  Without another word, the old guy slipped into rainbow-colored rubber flip-flops, tightened the towel around his waist, and headed straight for the screen door.

  “What's your name again?” he called from the open doorway.

  “Olivia. Wallace.”

  “See you later, Olivia Wallace.”

  “Not if I can help it,” Liv muttered, scampering toward the screen door and locking it behind him once he was gone.

  She padded back to the house and once inside set Boofer down on the floor, and then flicked the lock on that door too.

  “How about some breakfast?” she asked the dog. Boofer trotted happily behind her into the kitchen. “None of that special wet dog food for you, either, my friend. There's lots of doggie nutrition in the dry stuff, without the whole digestive … situation.”

  She filled the pink bowl with kibbles and set it on the floor. Boofer sniffed at it, and then looked up at Liv and barked once.

  “I know. This isn’t what you’re used to. But you know what? You won’t starve. And I won’t have to deal with finding a store where Floridians buy their gas masks.”

  Boofer slumped with disappointment and ignored the kibbles.

  “I don’t think you understand, Boofer. That special dog food of yours is lethal.” Boofer tilted her head. “Well, I know. Not to you. But certainly to me. And you don’t want that, do you?”

  The dog apparently had to think that one over before delivering her final conclusion.

  After breakfast, Liv pulled on a pair of denim capris and the short-sleeved white T-shirt with a glitter palm tree on the front that Hallie had given her with the necklace.

  “To put you in the mood for a Florida vacation,” she’d said.

  She strolled into what appeared to be Josie's home office and stood before the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that occupied one entire side of the room. There were at least a dozen different Bibles on the top shelf. The others were dotted with the names of the classics, mingled with contemporary thrillers, whodunits, and flowery romances. Liv pulled a cozy mystery off the shelf and read the back cover while Boofer made herself at home resting against Liv's leg.

  “Who would have guessed Josie had such eclectic tastes,” she said out loud, casting Boofer a smile as she replaced the book and selected a romance novel from the next shelf down.

  She hadn’t even finished skimming the three short paragraphs on the back cover before Jared Hunt bounced into her thoughts, transporting her back to a moonlight stroll and warm brown eyes that seemed to lay into her like some sort of branding iron.

  “Maybe not a romance today,” she said, placing the novel back into its spot.

  She continued to scan the bookshelves, landing on a colorful section of books, all with different titles but the same recognizable font style. The first one was A Brand New Pru by Josephine Parish, and Liv tugged it out and looked at the cover. She’d been hearing from Hallie for years about the series of Prudence books Josie had written, but she’d never seen one before, and she recalled Hallie comparing her to the downtrodden donkey in the stories.

  Liv stepped out of her sandals, curled into the corner of the settee, folded her legs beneath her, and started to read. Only a few pages later, a thud-thud-thud! at the front door sent Boofer into a barking frenzy, and Liv set down the book and hurried out to answer it.

  “Good morning, beautiful!”

  “Rand. How are you?”

  He passed right by her, tapped Boofer on the top of the head, and stepped into the foyer. With his sun-kissed hair and skin and gleaming white teeth, he looked a lot like someone who might pose for the cover of a Florida travel magazine.

  “You have your father's smile,” she told him.

  “I also have his twenty-eight-foot Sun Runner.”

  “Which, in English, means what exactly?”

  “It's a boat,” he announced. “What do you say we pack a picnic lunch and motor around the island for some sun and surf? Maybe go snorkeling.”

  Liv folded her arms and smiled. “Rand, how old are you?”

  “Twenty-six.”

  “Do you know how old I am?”

  “I don’t know. Forty?”

  “No,” she replied, and then stopped herself. “Thank you, by the way. But no. I am not forty. I’m not even forty-five.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “So do you want to go?”

  “Are you asking me on a date, Rand?”

  “I’m inviting you out for some lunch,” he corrected. “If we happen to fall in love while we’re eating, then so be it.”

  Liv grinned in spite of herself. “You are a very charming young man, Rand.”

  “If you think this is charming, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

  “But I am not going to date you.”

  He regarded her strangely, and then took a step back. “You’re not?”

  “I’m not.”

  “Are you hung up on the age thing?”

  “Extremely.”

  “And if I were forty?”

  “I’d be grabbing my shoes and running toward the marina with you.”

  “That's so wrong, Liv.”

  “I think so too. But it's just how wrong I’m going to be. And you need to respect it.”

  Rand shrugged and pulled the door open. Turning back to her, he smiled. “So it's definitely no.”

  “It's no.”

  His hand flew to his chest and he sank back against the door jamb as if he’d been wounded. “You’re harshing my mellow, Liv.”

  “Am I?”

  He shrugged again and stepped outside. Just as he turned back toward her for one last objection, Liv grinned at him.

  “Good-bye, Rand.”

  And she closed the door.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Hennessy. How are you doing today?”

  Doris Hennessy was one of Jared's longest standing patients. Meaning she was ninety-three years old, and she was still standing.

  “My bursitis is acting up, Jared, and my grandkids are coming to visit.”

  “Mary Kate or Mary Grace?”

  “Mary Grace. She's just had her third baby, you know.”

  “I didn’t know,” he told her, lifting her arm with caution until she winced. “Congratulations. That makes you a great-grandmother. Quite an accomplishment.”

  “Well, I’d like to be able to hold the baby. But my arms are aching so badly.”

  “Have you been taking your anti-inflammatories?”

  “Yes.”

  “And have you iced your shoulder?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  She pushed her wire-rimmed glasses up on her nose and thought about it. “It didn’t help last time, Jared.”

  “All right. Then let's try some heat therapy. Okay with you?”

  “Sure.”

  “Can I have a listen?” he asked her, holding up the stethoscope draped around his neck. She nodded, and he pressed it to her back. “Big deep breath now. Good, you sound nice and clear. I think you’re going to live longer than anyone on this island.”

  “Good. I considered the alternative, and I decided against it.”

  Jared laughed at that. “
I’ll have Georgia set you up with a prescription for therapy over at the clinic. I want you to go in every weekday through the end of next week. Can you do that for me?”

  “I think so.”

  “Do you have someone to take you, Doris?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t want to see you driving that car anymore, do you hear me?”

  “I won’t.”

  Mrs. Hennessy had been visiting a friend over on Captiva a few months prior, and she’d backed her car right into Harry Stafford's golf cart.

  “You call me if you can’t get someone to drive you, all right?”

  “I will, Jared.”

  “Now let's go see Georgia, and she’ll fix you right up.”

  Mrs. Hennessy linked her arm through Jared's, and it reminded him of someone else. Liv had held his arm that way when they’d gone for a walk around the neighborhood the previous night.

  “Hey, Mrs. H, how have you been?”

  Rand stood at the counter chatting with Georgia and Audrey as Liv and Jared came around the corner.

  “Dr. Hunt, your son gets more handsome every time I see him,” Doris told him.

  “Oh, and he's well aware of that, I’m sorry to report.”

  Rand smacked his father's arm and let out a laugh.

  “To what do I owe this visit?” Jared asked him, after walking Doris to the door.

  “I thought you might want to grab some lunch,” Rand replied. “They’ve opened a new Chinese place down on Pine.”

  “Oh, you don’t want to go there,” Georgia interrupted. “It's all grease and MSG.”

  “I happen to enjoy a little grease with my food now and then,” Rand teased.

  “Well, I was thinking more about your father's constitution, Randall.”

  “Whoa! O-kay now!” Jared exclaimed. “That's the last time I want to hear any office conversation that revolves around my constitution, thank you very much.”

  “So what do you say, Dad? Lunch?”

  “I told the Gordons I’d stop out and see them this afternoon. I think I have enough time to grab a bite beforehand, but how about something a little less risky than Chinese?”

  “Whatever. You’re paying. You name the place.”

  “Oh, I see. The salad bar it is then.”

  “C’mon, Dad. Have a heart.”

  They reached a compromise on the way to the Lazy Flamingo for fried grouper sandwiches.

  “So what are you up to today?” Jared asked as he stirred sugar into his tea.

  “Well, I thought I was going to take the boat for a spin, but my date bailed.”

  “Sorry to hear that. Losing some of that mojo of yours?”

  “Absolutely not,” Rand declared, wiping his mouth. “Just the opposite. I’m too young and virile for Liv to handle.”

  “Liv,” Jared stated.

  “Yeah, I asked her out, and she turned me down flat.”

  Jared tried not to smile, disguising it with a knitted brow and serious expression. “Did she now.”

  “Said she wasn’t going to date me, no way, no how.”

  “Harsh.”

  “That's what I told her. Harshing my mellow, big time.”

  “Harshing your mellow,” Jared repeated.

  “Yeah. Stomping my mind. Blowing my zen.”

  “Ah.”

  Jared wished he’d been a fly on the wall for that conversation. Not that he found any joy in his son's mellow being stomped, but he figured it wasn’t any great betrayal as a father that he was relieved Olivia Wallace wasn’t suddenly dating his son.

  “Maybe you should give her a run.”

  Jared jerked back to the moment and stared down his son. “I beg your pardon?”

  “If I’m too young and intense, maybe she’d give an old guy like you a run for his money.”

  “I don’t know what to respond to first.”

  “Okay, sorry. You’re not an old guy exactly. But next to me, come on, Dad. Let's face it.”

  The waitress set the check down in front of Jared and, without missing a beat, he slid it across the table toward Rand.

  “Thanks for lunch,” he said in his best grandpa voice. “Now this old geezer needs to be on his way.”

  Rand laughed and pushed the check back at Jared. “I must have left my wallet in my other pants.”

  “Whippersnapper.”

  “Relic.”

  “When do you go back to school again?”

  6

  Prudence looked around and realized how far away her meadow home was now. She gazed at the sparkling pond and the rocky hills that surrounded it, and she wondered if she would ever again make it home to her meadow.

  “Everything is so different here,” she told Horatio in a soft, thoughtful bray.

  “Different can be good,” her wise friend replied. “Sometimes different builds a bridge between what you are and what you can be.”

  Oh, Clay is harmless,” Hallie said with a chuckle as Liv stood at the glass door, the phone tucked between her ear and shoulder.

  “He is so annoying,” Liv replied as Clayton touched the flagstone at the far end and then flipped backward for another lap across the swimming pool. This time, it was the backstroke. “He's out there right now after I expressly asked him not to let himself into the pool area while I’m here.”

  “He didn’t ring the doorbell, did he?”

  “No. He slit the screen and unlocked the patio door.”

  “Oh, boy. And that woke you up?”

  “Yes. Well, no. Boofer's reaction to a stranger on the property woke me up.”

  “Oh,” Hallie sighed. “How is Boofer?”

  Liv glanced around. Missy Boofer's little doggie T-shirt was bunched up above her midsection, and the lampshade collar was squished sideways as she lay sound asleep on one of the throw pillows on the sofa.

  “I expect her to start snoring any minute.”

  “I guess she got over that whole ‘stranger danger’ thing then.”

  “She did,” Liv replied, turning her attention back toward the pool just in time to catch a glimpse of Clayton adjusting his low-riding swim trunks and tying a neon tie-dyed towel around his waist. “I’m not sure I ever will, though.”

  Hallie laughed. “I’m sorry, Liv. I’d forgotten all about the cast of characters down there.”

  “Impressive. How did you manage it?”

  “Motherhood. It takes up too many brain cells. I’m on spring break overload. Have you met anyone else in the neighborhood?”

  “I met Jared Hunt on the plane down here, and then discovered he lives right behind Josie.”

  “Ooh, Jared. Isn’t he yummy?”

  Liv decided not to reply. “And I met his son, Rand.”

  “Rand is there?”

  “On holiday while school is out. I guess he's a teacher.”

  “He teaches American Lit at an all-girls school in England.”

  “Can you imagine that?” Liv asked, and then she chuckled at the thought of an audience of teenage girls pretending to listen to monologues about Keats and Faulkner but thinking only of the bronze, godlike instructor at the front of the class. “Anyway, they had a barbecue my first night here, and I went over and met some of the locals. Had some great Mexican food. Carne asada on the grill. Some cherry riso sausage. Oh, and these little pies called empinojos.”

  “Empanadas?” Hallie giggled.

  “Whatever. They were delicious.”

  “It sounds like you’re having a good time then. Admit it.”

  “If I could get the chance to sleep past dawn, I’d be golden.”

  “So have you made any plans for your birthday?”

  Liv sighed. “Not yet.”

  Outside, Clayton shook his head in swift, side-to-side gestures, as if he had long locks of hair to drip dry.

  “We were talking about it last night, Liv, and here's what I think you should do—”

  “Listen, I’m going to take another shot at reasoning with Michael Phelps’ great-gra
ndfather before he leaves. Can I talk to you later?”

  “Sure. Give my love to Jared and Rand, will you?”

  “Will do.”

  Liv pulled open the slider and stepped out to the patio just as Clayton reached the screen door at the other side.

  “Mr. Clydesdale?” she called, but he didn’t flinch. “Mr. Clydesdale?” she shouted louder, but to the same reception.

  Liv noticed Clayton's two small hearing aids still strewn on the table, and she hurried to fetch them, cringing as she placed them in the palm of her hand. Then she jogged across the lawn after him.

  “Mr. Clydesdale!” she exclaimed, as she touched him lightly on the shoulder. He jumped and turned to face her with both fists raised, causing Liv to step back in defense.

  “You forgot your hearing aids,” she said, mouthing the words with animation.

  “Hah?”

  “Your hearing aids. You left them.”

  She opened her hand and showed him, feeling a little wave of queasiness as she did. Having some old guy's waxy ear buds in her hand made her want to rush back into the house and scrub all the way up to her elbows.

  “Ah. Thanks.” He snatched them from her without ceremony and twisted them into his ears like knobs on a bedroom door.

  “Mr. Clydesdale, do you remember that we spoke about your not using the pool until Josie comes back?”

  “Josie?” he said, and then he softened for just an instant. “When's she coming back?”

  “Not for two weeks,” she explained.

  His gruff scowl back in place, he declared, “Can’t go two weeks without doing my laps.”

  “Okay,” Liv replied, searching for another tack. “And you don’t feel like you could use the community pool for two weeks?”

  “Too far,” he said, adjusting one of the hearing aids. “I’d have to crank up the car for that. It's better to just walk across the street.”

  “O-kay. Well. How about you do your laps a little later then?”

  “Early riser,” he snapped.

  “I believe you. But I would like to NOT be an early riser. And the dog barks every morning when you let yourself in, and it wakes me up.”

  “Mangy dog.”

  “Mr. Clydesdale, please. I’m on vacation. I’d like to sleep in past sunrise each morning.”

  “Yeah. Okay.”