He actually would still be writing if he’d lived at home with his daughter Sharon. But Sharon had met a man who wanted to marry her, and since Bob didn’t want to stand in their way, he’d suggested Happy Home as a solution. That way Sharon’s fianc? Pete could move in, and eventually the couple could get hitched. The last thing Sharon and Pete needed was some old fogey hanging around cramping their style.
But the move to Happy Home had somehow put the kibosh on his writing. When Sharon was around, she helped him out from time to time, and even bought him dictation software and installed it on his computer so he could dictate his stories. And then she helped him to correct them, acting as his editor and also his first reader.
But of course now, at Happy Home, he didn’t have the puff to do all of that, and without Sharon he’d lost the habit, and didn’t think he’d ever pick it up again.
He shuffled into his own room, dropped down into his favorite armchair, and turned to the window to look out. He wondered what Sharon was up to right now. And Pete, of course. He hadn’t heard from his daughter in days. He missed her. Missed them both, actually, Pete being the son he never had. Great guy, and the perfect husband for Sharon. He was looking forward to the wedding, which couldn’t come soon enough for him.
11
Scarlett was feeling a little bored, to be honest. When she had suggested she join Vesta, she had been excited at this change of pace. But now that they were there, she realized she didn’t have anything to occupy her time. The cats were busy snooping around and generally keeping tabs on everyone, and Vesta was busy acting like the general of her private army. But Scarlett? She had nothing to do. Absolutely nothing, except sit around and watch television, or play bingo. Neither pastime held any particular interest to her, and neither did chatting with the other residents, most of whom seemed more interested in bingo night than sharing gossip with her.
And of course the lack of interesting men set the seal on her gloom. There were simply no guys under the age of eighty present, it seemed, except of course Brian, Desmond and Isaac. And so Scarlett being Scarlett, she had decided to start her own private little project, and focus her attentions on Isaac, Brian being far too busy entertaining his personal harem, and Desmond not being her type. At all.
So when Isaac dropped by later that morning, she halted him in his tracks long enough to try and extract some personal information from the young nursing assistant. It only took her about fifteen minutes to determine that he still lived with his mom and dad, didn’t have a girlfriend, never had had a girlfriend, wasn’t into boys but definitely into girls, and was deeply and desperately in love with Kirsten.
She got over her initial disappointment when she realized that here was a great new project for her. A mission of her own she could dedicate her energy to. And as she thought some more, already the contours of a challenge presented themselves to her.
Here was a young man who was in love with a young woman, but so far had failed to get to first base with that girl. And as it happens getting to first base—as well as all the other bases—was something she was particularly experienced in through long association with the male sex.
And so a decision was made: she was going to help Isaac get his girl.
“Have you talked to her? Told her how you feel?” she asked.
“Not as such,” Isaac confessed.
“Have you talked to her, period?”
“Oh, of course. I say hi to her all the time.”
“Just hi?”
“Well…” He thought for a moment. “I did tell her I liked her bike once.”
“That’s it? Hi and ‘I like your bike?’ That’s the extent of your conversations with her?”
“Well, yes,” he said sheepishly. “Though when I told her about her bike, she actually smiled and said ‘Thanks.’” He grinned. “It was the best day of my life, Mrs. Corr.”
“Miss,” she said automatically. How odd, she felt, that Isaac had worked with Kirsten for all of six months and never exchanged more than a few words with her. “But why?” she asked. “If you like her so much, why haven’t you talked to her?”
“It’s not that I don’t want to talk to her,” said Isaac. “Just that the opportunity never seems to present itself. Every time I see her, either I choke, and don’t know what to say, or she’s with some other person.”
“She doesn’t have a boyfriend?”
“Not that I know. Though I could be wrong. All I know about Kirsten is what I read on her social media.”