filled with a
riot of exotic blooms and foliage. She looked forward to checking out the
grounds’ wildlife — African penguins, swans, flamingos, and parrots.
Her room was small, and the private lanai had a
view of an active construction site. But the Pacific Ocean was a lot closer
here than it was at her tiny Brooklyn apartment. She took in her cozy place for
the next seven days. Beautifully decorated in a soothing palette of mint green
and cream.
Fatigue soon settled in after the long flight and
the time change so she would turn in early. But not before checking on Aunt
Jackie. After a quick shower, she changed into her PJs and put the lei of
plumeria and orchids back around her neck to enjoy its fragrance. Maui would’ve
been great for Aunt Jackie, but she’d refused. She could not leave the shop to helpers
these days, she’d said. But Kendra was also sure her aunt did not want her
footing the bill for such a trip when Kendra was already helping the shop
through slow times.
A vacation was the last thing on Aunt Jackie’s
mind while grieving and fighting to stabilize the yarn shop’s finances. Kendra
still worried about her, particularly when she had to leave her alone for more
than a day or two. Aunt Jackie’s parents had moved to a senior citizens
community in Boca Raton and her in-laws lived in Tennessee.
These days it was as if her aunt could only manage
good cheer, faux good cheer at that, during store hours to engage customers and
the help. She didn’t need to be “on” upon returning to the home she’d long
shared with her husband, a Southern gentleman who had always exuded boundless
kindness and quiet strength. She could unfurl her despair like the too-tight
chignon she’d taken to wearing these days because it was a low maintenance way
to wear her full head of curls Uncle Alex had adored.
After two years, the condo was still filled with
most of Uncle Alex’s things, as if he were just away on an extended retreat.
When Kendra mentioned moving some of the things out so she’d have more room,
Aunt Jackie would change the subject.
Sometimes when Kendra would stop by unexpectedly
and use her key to get in, she’d find the condo cave dark, even on sunny days.
Her aunt would sit in Uncle Alex’s “man cave” with the curtains drawn, the
blinds closed, and the lamps off. No book, no TV, no music, no knitting, just
the full-color program from Uncle Alex’s funeral clutched in hand. What initially appeared to be a printing
glitch on the smiling photo of Uncle Alex was actually lipstick, her aunt’s
signature color. How Kendra’s heart would ache for her. She didn’t always know
what to say or do to help. Her aunt insisted on bare knuckling her depression
without drugs or therapy.
“I made it safely,” Kendra said after her aunt
answered her call. “And it’s beautiful here! I wish you’d agreed to join me.
You’d love it.”
“Maybe next time, sweetie.”
“So what did you do today?” she asked, caressing
and sniffing the string of blooms around her neck.
“Donalisa came over earlier. She lives nearby so I
gave her after-hours lessons on lace knitting.”
Great! With Kendra away, Aunt Jackie wasn’t spending all of her evenings alone,
sitting in Uncle Alex’s chair. Before he died, Aunt Jackie had collected
friends the way she’d collected yarn and pattern books. And she had a knack for
making them all feel like favorites. But she’d cut ties with her usual group.
Even the most persistent ones could not get through to her. Like some
nineteenth-century English woman in widow’s weeds, she’d hidden behind
head-to-toe black every day. Friends and neighbors had mentioned street
encounters with Aunt Jackie when she’d refused to return their smiles and
waves. The large dark sunglasses she’d taken to wearing were like a mourner’s
version of those eighteen-wheeler warning signs: If you can’t see my eyes, I can’t see you.
“I really like Mrs. Findley, with her
riot of exotic blooms and foliage. She looked forward to checking out the
grounds’ wildlife — African penguins, swans, flamingos, and parrots.
Her room was small, and the private lanai had a
view of an active construction site. But the Pacific Ocean was a lot closer
here than it was at her tiny Brooklyn apartment. She took in her cozy place for
the next seven days. Beautifully decorated in a soothing palette of mint green
and cream.
Fatigue soon settled in after the long flight and
the time change so she would turn in early. But not before checking on Aunt
Jackie. After a quick shower, she changed into her PJs and put the lei of
plumeria and orchids back around her neck to enjoy its fragrance. Maui would’ve
been great for Aunt Jackie, but she’d refused. She could not leave the shop to helpers
these days, she’d said. But Kendra was also sure her aunt did not want her
footing the bill for such a trip when Kendra was already helping the shop
through slow times.
A vacation was the last thing on Aunt Jackie’s
mind while grieving and fighting to stabilize the yarn shop’s finances. Kendra
still worried about her, particularly when she had to leave her alone for more
than a day or two. Aunt Jackie’s parents had moved to a senior citizens
community in Boca Raton and her in-laws lived in Tennessee.
These days it was as if her aunt could only manage
good cheer, faux good cheer at that, during store hours to engage customers and
the help. She didn’t need to be “on” upon returning to the home she’d long
shared with her husband, a Southern gentleman who had always exuded boundless
kindness and quiet strength. She could unfurl her despair like the too-tight
chignon she’d taken to wearing these days because it was a low maintenance way
to wear her full head of curls Uncle Alex had adored.
After two years, the condo was still filled with
most of Uncle Alex’s things, as if he were just away on an extended retreat.
When Kendra mentioned moving some of the things out so she’d have more room,
Aunt Jackie would change the subject.
Sometimes when Kendra would stop by unexpectedly
and use her key to get in, she’d find the condo cave dark, even on sunny days.
Her aunt would sit in Uncle Alex’s “man cave” with the curtains drawn, the
blinds closed, and the lamps off. No book, no TV, no music, no knitting, just
the full-color program from Uncle Alex’s funeral clutched in hand. What initially appeared to be a printing
glitch on the smiling photo of Uncle Alex was actually lipstick, her aunt’s
signature color. How Kendra’s heart would ache for her. She didn’t always know
what to say or do to help. Her aunt insisted on bare knuckling her depression
without drugs or therapy.
“I made it safely,” Kendra said after her aunt
answered her call. “And it’s beautiful here! I wish you’d agreed to join me.
You’d love it.”
“Maybe next time, sweetie.”
“So what did you do today?” she asked, caressing
and sniffing the string of blooms around her neck.
“Donalisa came over earlier. She lives nearby so I
gave her after-hours lessons on lace knitting.”
Great! With Kendra away, Aunt Jackie wasn’t spending all of her evenings alone,
sitting in Uncle Alex’s chair. Before he died, Aunt Jackie had collected
friends the way she’d collected yarn and pattern books. And she had a knack for
making them all feel like favorites. But she’d cut ties with her usual group.
Even the most persistent ones could not get through to her. Like some
nineteenth-century English woman in widow’s weeds, she’d hidden behind
head-to-toe black every day. Friends and neighbors had mentioned street
encounters with Aunt Jackie when she’d refused to return their smiles and
waves. The large dark sunglasses she’d taken to wearing were like a mourner’s
version of those eighteen-wheeler warning signs: If you can’t see my eyes, I can’t see you.
“I really like Mrs. Findley, with her
Similar Books
