- -
- 100%
- +
Dagmar met her at the front door. “You’re here. Good. We can get started right away. I went and saw Betty yesterday and got a list of all the things she wants us to pack for her. The movers come in the morning and take care of the rest of it.”
Dagmar, a seventysomething former librarian, had the energy level of a brewing volcano. She wore her straight hair in a chin-length bob. The color varied, sometimes significantly. Currently her swinging, shiny hair was a deep auburn with a single purple stripe on her left side. Her clothes matched her personality—vibrant hues battled prints for attention. She was as likely to show up in a Hawaiian-print caftan as riding pants and a bullfighter’s bolero jacket.
Today she had on a calf-length wrap skirt done in a balloon animal print. Her twinset picked up the lime green of one of the balloons and seemed conservative enough until she turned around and Unity saw a sequined version of the Rolling Stones open mouth logo. As always, reading glasses perched on Dagmar’s head.
“Let’s start in the bedroom. All she wants us to pack up there are her unmentionables.” Dagmar grinned over her shoulder as she led the way through the cheerful living room to the short hallway. “She used those exact words. Unmentionables. What is this? The set of Little Women? I told her unless she had some fur lined G-strings, the movers weren’t going to care, but you know how Betty is.”
Unity was used to Dagmar’s whirlwind, take-charge attitude. The first time Unity had come to Silver Pines to take her knitting classes, Dagmar had spotted her immediately. Within ten minutes, she pretty much knew Unity’s life story. By the end of the fifty-minute lesson, she’d introduced Unity to everyone in the class and had invited Unity to a potluck and a pickleball game. They’d been friends ever since.
“I packed up her medications yesterday,” Dagmar told her, pointing to the bathroom. “I’m hiding them at my place until she’s out of rehab. You know that doctor of hers is going to mess with everything and it will take her weeks to get back on track. This way I have a stash so we can figure it out as we go.”
“Because self-medication is always the answer?” Unity asked wryly.
“At our age, it can be.” Dagmar pointed to the roll of packing paper on the bed. “You get going on her Swarovski collection while I pack up the girl stuff. That’s mostly what she’s worried about. Her glass animals and the pictures, of course.” Dagmar’s smile faded. “She won’t have room to hang them at her new apartment. I’ve been thinking that I should put them all in a photo album for her.”
Before Unity could say anything, Dagmar pointed to the paper. “Chop-chop. I have bridge this afternoon and I’m sure you have work you should be doing.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Unity didn’t take offense at the instruction—it was simply Dagmar’s way. She unrolled the paper, then she walked around the small house, collecting the crystal animals in a sturdy box.
Betty had them in her hutch, of course, but also on floating shelves in the living room and den. As Unity gathered crystal swans and frogs, dogs and birds, she looked around at various rooms. The kitchen was recently remodeled, with quartz countertops and stainless steel appliances. There was plenty of storage and a back deck with room for a table and chairs, along with a barbecue.
The neighborhood was quiet. Safe, too, she thought, carefully wrapping the crystal pieces and placing them in the box.
Dagmar appeared a few minutes later with an empty box and an armful of framed photographs. Betty had been a background dancer in Hollywood musicals back in the late 1940s and early 1950s.
“She was a beautiful girl,” Dagmar said. She held up a photograph of a very young Betty in a scanty costume with a spray of feathers on her head.
“She was. What an exciting life.”
“She was brave.” Dagmar sighed. “I never was. I studied dance all through high school. I wanted to run off to New York and be a Rockette.” She smiled. “Back then you didn’t have to be so tall and I just made the height requirement. But my parents were very opposed and I was too scared to do it on my own. So I went to college and got my degree in library science.”
“You’ve led a pretty interesting life,” Unity told her.
“No, dear. But I have married interesting men, so there’s that.”
“This is a really nice house,” Unity said as she continued to pack. “The rooms are all a good size.”
Dagmar’s brown eyes narrowed. “Oh my God! Don’t tell me you’re checking it out.”
“What? No. Of course not. I’ve never been in Betty’s house before.”
Dagmar put her hands on her hips. “You’re what? Thirty-two?”
“Thirty-four.”
“Whatever. You’re a baby. You should not be eyeing houses in an age-restricted community. You already spend too much time here as it is. Not that I don’t love your company but you should be with people your own age.”
“I am. All the time.”
Dagmar’s eyebrows rose. “Really? Is this before or after you come here for whatever classes you’ve signed up for this time?”
Unity tried not to sound defensive. “The classes are open to the entire county.”
“Yes, but you’re one of the few not collecting social security who bother to take advantage of that.”
“So I’m smart.”
“You’re troubling me, Unity. It’s been three years. Don’t you think it’s time to want more than you have?”
“No.”
Dagmar sighed. “Maybe you want to think for a second before you answer.”
“Why? I like my life. I have my friends and my business.”
“Yes, you have all that, but what about a man?”
“I had my man. Dagmar, let it go.”
“I can’t. You had a wonderful marriage and Stuart died and it’s all very sad, but at some point you need to move on. Start dating. Have you thought about dating at all?”
“Since the last time you asked? Not really.”
Unity did her best to keep her tone friendly. She didn’t like this line of questioning. No, she hadn’t thought of dating. She’d been married to Stuart and that had been enough. One month after their wedding, he’d left for basic training. She’d joined him when he’d been assigned to a base in Colorado.
That had been their life. She’d made a home at whatever base he’d been assigned to. When he’d had leave, they’d traveled everywhere together. When his work had taken him overseas, she’d waited for him to come back to her. Being married to Stuart was all she knew. Three years after his death, she still only knew how to be his wife. Even her handyman business had grown out of her life with Stuart. Now it supported her and gave her something to do with her day.
There were supposed to have been children, but they’d wanted to wait until they were thirty and then his mom had died, so they’d waited another year and then Stuart had been gone.
“I’m sorry,” Dagmar said unexpectedly, pulling Unity close. “I’m pushing you and that never goes well. It’s just I hate to see you wasting your life, hanging out with a bunch of old farts with cataracts and spider veins. You should be with some young people, going out and having fun.”
“I have fun with you.”
Dagmar released her and smiled. “I am a good time, aren’t I? And while I appreciate the compliment, I was thinking more in the lines of sex. Darling, you desperately need a man.”
“I was thinking more of getting my bangs trimmed.”
“How very sad. All right, young lady. One more house check for silly crystal figurines. Although I’m in no position to cast stones. After all, my house is a shrine to all things Thomas Kincaid. I can’t help it. His work moves me. Plus, I can get new things dirt cheap at the estate sales around here.”
Unity did one more pass through the house. For now she was happy to live in what had been Stuart’s house, surrounded by his life as a boy. The familiar was comforting. But in another twenty-one or so years, she would qualify to move to Silver Pines and wasn’t that something to look forward to?
Three
The shrieks, laughs and yells were louder than usual, as the last day of school wound down. Ellen sat at her desk, thinking her students would be shocked to know Ms. Fox was just as excited as they were at the thought of having the summer off. But while they were done for the semester, she still had final exams to finish grading.
Ah, to have a subject that lent itself to Scantron testing, she thought wistfully, eyeing the tall stack of papers she would be wading through. But on her tests, partial credit was always available for the work done correctly, so every pencil mark had to be studied for its potential value to the final answer. She pulled the top test off the stack and uncapped her red extra-fine-point Sharpie and went to work.
Two hours and thirty-three minutes later, she had a mild headache and a slightly sore hand, but she had finished. She entered the grades into the computer, then happily hit the send button.
“I am done,” she said aloud, tapping her feet on the floor as she threw her arms in the air.
She’d already cleaned out her desk, so only had to gather a few personal things before walking around her classroom one last time to make sure nothing had been forgotten.
It was nearly five and the school was quiet. She locked her classroom as she left before making her way to her car. She would dump her things, then check on Coop before heading home. She wanted to work on her to-do list for the upcoming bus trip, but first she would get some takeout to celebrate. What it would be depended on whether or not Coop was, or Coop and Luka were, joining her for dinner.
She put everything in her trunk, then headed for the gym. Cooper and Luka were, as always, working out. They were obsessed with their muscles, and their earnestness about the whole thing made her giggle. Not that she let them know—they would be horrified to think they were anything but manly men.
She rounded the corner and caught a reflection out of the corner of her eye. As she glanced toward it, she saw the mirrored wall in the trophy case.
It was one of those moments when she wasn’t expecting to see herself and therefore had a microsecond of wondering “Who is that?” only to realize it was her. In that second of time she had a brief impression of a nondescript person swallowed up by clothes that were far too large.
Ellen came to a stop and stared at herself. She wore a loose tunic shirt that came to midthigh. Her pull-on pants billowed as she walked. The dark colors weren’t flattering.
Heat burned at her cheeks, although why she was embarrassed, she couldn’t say. So she wasn’t a fashionista—she was still a good person.
She remembered Keith’s comment when they’d had dinner the previous week—that no one could tell if she gained weight because her clothes were so baggy. It was just her thing, she told herself. She’d always dressed this way, hadn’t she?
Ellen continued to stare at herself as she remembered the summer before she began her first teaching job. Money had, as always, been so tight and she’d needed clothes to wear to work. She’d gone to a nice thrift store just outside Seattle where she’d found some wonderful, high-quality outfits at swoon-worthy prices. The only problem had been that they were two sizes too big.
Given her need and her budget, she’d bought them and worn them. Funny how all these years later, she’d never thought to start wearing things that actually fit.
She shook off the thought and started for the weight room. As she approached, she heard voices. Cooper was there, along with Luka. Ellen hovered just to the side of the door, figuring she didn’t get all that much opportunity to eavesdrop and that she wouldn’t be much of a mother if she didn’t take advantage of a situation that presented itself.
“There’s no reason to go,” Coop said, sounding dejected. “I should stay home and get a job.”
Go? Go where?
“You have to take the bus trip, man,” Luka told him. “Don’t you want to see Stanford?”
“Why? I can’t go away to college. Not that far away.”
Ellen pressed a hand to her mouth to keep from making any noise. Not go away to college? Where had that come from? They’d always talked about him going away. It was what he wanted.
“Coop, come on. Don’t say that.”
“You know I can’t leave her. She needs me.”
No, no, no, no! Ellen battled panic. Who needed him? She didn’t even know Coop was seeing someone. What bitch had trapped him?
She went cold all over and the unthinkable pushed its way into her brain. What if some girl was pregnant? There was a lot of that going around.
She closed her eyes. That couldn’t be it. They’d talked and talked about safe sex. She bought him condoms. She reminded him of how hard it was for just the two of them and how using a condom protected him from unplanned pregnancies and STDs. Hadn’t he been listening?
“You know her,” Coop continued. “You know what our relationship is like. She depends on me. She won’t make it without me.”
Who was it? Ellen wanted to scream the question. She ran through the list of girls she knew her son hung out with and tried to figure out which one might be holding him back. Did Keith know? No, he would have said something. Maybe she should talk to Lissa. Maybe—
“That’s no reason to stay here,” Luka told him. “You want to go away to college.”
“I can’t. Luka, I can’t. She’s my mom and she needs me.”
Ellen sagged against the wall as all the air rushed out of her body. Heat replaced the cold as she battled with the impossible. Her? The person he was talking about was her?
“We’ve always been a team,” Coop said. “I’m her life. She doesn’t date. I’m seventeen years old and my mom hasn’t been on a single date my whole life.”
“Not even one?”
“Nope. She’s never gone in the evening, unless it’s to hang out with Unity or Coach Kinne. She doesn’t do anything but work and take care of me. How can I leave her? Who will take care of her?”
The horror returned, but this time it was laced with confusion and shame. How could her son think like this? She was perfectly capable. She’d raised him, she’d graduated from college, she had a good job. She didn’t need her kid to take care of her. Why would he assume he was her everything? She had a life.
Without thinking, she began backing away from the door. She retreated to the main corridor and stood there, trying to clear her mind.
This was nothing but a misunderstanding, she told herself. Coop was reading the situation wrong. Of course she had a life and she would be fine when he was gone. Why wouldn’t she be? She was more than capable of being on her own. He had to know that. He was free to go live his life—be his own person. She wanted that for him, of course, but just as important, she never wanted him to resent her the way she’d always resented her parents.
She would take a second and gather her thoughts, then return to the weight room. She would find out about his plans for the evening, then go home and... And... Well, she didn’t know what she was going to do, but it would be something fun and exciting. Because of course she had things to do. Not dating didn’t mean anything. Lots of people didn’t date. She was absolutely and totally fine and happy and living the dream. That was her. For sure.
Unity finished tightening the new faucet in place. She ran water, then checked under the sink to make sure there were no leaks. When she was confident everything was perfect, she collected her tools, put the old faucet in the box the new one had arrived in and wiped down the counter. Only then did she go get Mr. Sweetman who was in his recliner, watching TV.
“I’m all done,” she said loudly, so the eightysomething gentleman could hear her over Judge Judy.
Mr. Sweetman, as adorable as his name, looked up and smiled. “All done?”
“I am.”
He nodded and got to his feet, a slow process that was painful to watch. When Unity couldn’t bear the struggle anymore, she grabbed him by both forearms and pulled until he was standing.
She matched his slow pace to the kitchen, then showed him the new faucet.
“If you press this button, the water goes from a steady stream to a nice spray,” she told him. “You don’t have to make it go back to a steady stream. The next time you turn it on, it’s on the steady stream automatically.”
“Oh, that’s very nice.”
She demonstrated the hose feature, showing him how he could easily rinse out his sink. He watched carefully, then practiced using the faucet before turning to her.
“Technology’s a marvel. When I was growing up, we had to pump water out of a well and carry it into the house. We’ve come a long way.”
“We have. I’ll send you a bill in a day or so.”
He patted her arm. “You’re a good girl, Unity. Thanks for my new faucet.”
She gave him a wave and let herself out.
After stowing her tools, she slid onto her seat and called her answering machine back home to pick up messages, then started her truck and drove through Silver Pines. Phyllis, the head of the local pickleball league, had asked her to stop by after work.
She was lucky that way, she thought, driving through the tidy community, waving at people she knew. Being her own boss meant she could come and go as she wanted. Although there were days when she had more work than she could handle, even with her part-time helpers.
She knew the solution was to hire a full-time employee—something she’d thought about and talked about and whined about. Ellen had threatened to place an ad online herself, just to force Unity to make a decision. It was probably the right thing to do, but Unity just couldn’t seem to make herself take the step. Hiring someone seemed like a big responsibility.
A real employee would be different than her part-time team. She would have to pay him or her every week, and do payroll.
She parked in front of Phyllis’s duplex. The seventysomething woman lived alone, with her two cats. Phyllis was a stern kind of person who intimidated Unity—not that she ever let herself show it. Until moving to Silver Pines, Phyllis had been a member of a tennis club and had played several times a week. Now she put the same devotion and energy into the local pickleball league. She was president of the club and in charge of all the tournaments. Phyllis had a forceful personality and got things done.
Unity had discovered the world of pickleball after she’d moved home and joined the league nearly two years ago. She liked the exercise, the comradery and the company.
“Good, you’re here,” Phyllis said, showing her into her living room.
They sat on opposite sofas. The room was just like Phyllis—no-nonsense and practical. Unity noticed the lack of refreshments, which surprised her. Most meetings, social or otherwise, came with at least an offer of iced tea and a cookie.
“I’ll get right to the point,” Phyllis said, her tone curt. “Several league members have been complaining about you, Unity.”
“What?” The unexpected statement shocked her. “I don’t understand. I’m on time, I support my team members. I always bring refreshments when it’s my turn.” She pressed her lips together to make herself stop talking.
Phyllis, a tall woman with close-cropped gray hair and small brown eyes, frowned. “It’s ridiculous you were ever allowed to join the league. Look at you. You’re a big, strapping girl. It’s not a fair fight. None of the other pairs can defeat you. No one wants to play against you.”
Unity felt herself flush. She suddenly felt all arms and legs, not to mention completely rejected. “I don’t win every game.”
“Nearly. I’ve gone through the statistics for the last three tournaments. You and your partner won all of them. You’re just too young and fit. The league was always meant to be for the people living here. You’re a ringer and we don’t want you around. I’m sorry, Unity, but you’re being given the boot.”
“You’re kicking me out?”
“We are.”
She said we but Unity had a feeling it was more a her decision. The whole situation was desperately unfair. “But the league is open to everyone in town. There are a lot of other people under sixty-five playing pickleball.”
“They’re all older than you and mostly fat. They’re terrible players. We’ve changed the rules. You have to be fifty or over to join the league. We took a vote.”
“Without me?”
Phyllis’s expression wasn’t the least bit sympathetic. “Yes. Without you.”
Unexpected tears burned in her eyes. Unity felt exposed and foolish and ashamed. This was so much worse than being picked last for a team in school—mostly because she never had been. She loved pickleball. What was she supposed to do now?
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, standing. “I didn’t know.”
“Now you do. Find a league with people your own age. You’ll do fine.”
Phyllis hustled her to the front door, showed her out, then closed it firmly in Unity’s face. Unity tried to summon a little righteous anger, but she couldn’t get past the giant slap of rejection.
She got in her truck, silently called Phyllis a bitch, then drove the short distance to Dagmar’s house. When she was parked out front, she called her.
“You busy?” she asked, when Dagmar answered.
“Darling, I beg you, get a phone that texts. Even my friends text rather than call.”
Dagmar’s tone was light and Unity knew the comment was teasing, only it felt like one more judgment.
“Are you busy?” she asked again, trying to keep her voice from shaking.
“Oh, no. What happened?”
“Phyllis threw me off the pickleball league. She said I was a big, strapping girl and didn’t belong.”
“She’s a wizened old cow who hasn’t had sex in over a decade. I’m sure her girl parts are about as interesting as day-old bread.”
Despite everything, Unity smiled. “That’s a very weird analogy.”
“I know. I was struggling to make one work.” The curtain at the front of the house moved. “Oh, good, you’re here. Come on inside and we’ll talk about it.”
As always, just being in Dagmar’s house made Unity feel better. While most of the residents surrounded themselves with items from their past—pictures, mementos, ornate pieces of furniture not suited to the smaller space—Dagmar had decorated her house with an elegant, beachy vibe. Pale gray grounded all the shades of blue. The sofas were comfortable, the accessories minimal. A white shag rug defined the living area. The blue-and-gray backsplash colors were repeated in the throw pillows.
The cool elegance was a contrast to Dagmar’s Bohemian style. Today she had on black-and-red striped wide-leg trousers and a red T-shirt dominated by a picture of Marilyn Monroe. A dozen or so bangles rattled on her wrist.
Unity unlaced her work boots at the door and walked into the kitchen. Dagmar set a bottle of red wine on the counter and got out two glasses, then opened her refrigerator. She pulled out a fresh veggie plate, two containers of dip, a bowl of hummus and some pita chips. By the time Unity had removed the cork and poured them each a glass, the snacks were set out on the island. They each took a stool, then Dagmar held up her glass.
“Tell me what happened.”
Unity briefly recounted her conversation with Phyllis. “It feels really arbitrary and, at the same time, incredibly personal. She never liked me.”
“That’s because she needs to be the queen bee and with you kicking her bony ass, that was never going to happen.” Dagmar sipped her wine. “You could take her advice and join a league with people your own age. Take Ellen with you. She can be your partner.”
Unity smiled. “Ellen doesn’t believe in organized sports. Or exercise.”
“What about your other friends?” There was something in Dagmar’s tone as she asked the question. Something Unity couldn’t put her finger on.
“You mean outside Silver Pines?”
Dagmar’s brown eyes turned sympathetic. “Yes, dear. Your friends not getting social security.”
Unity let her gaze slide to the window. “I have Ellen. Everyone else is pretty much, you know, here.” She turned back to Dagmar. “I like the activities here. I like being busy.” Her full calendar made her feel less alone. “Besides, I enjoy the people here. I think they’re interesting and fun and well traveled. I have an old soul.”