It felt more like a club than a nursing home, and for that, I was glad. I thought the girls would love it as much as I did.
“Shall we go check out the casual dining area and coffee bar?”
I raised my eyebrow. “Am I going to become a woman who can’t get going in the morning without her latte?”
She winked at me. “I believe you are.”
After the tour, Anna urged me to bring my family back, to think it over with them before making such a huge decision. But Summer Acres was perfect—and, most important, I could move through levels of care here that would carry me through the rest of my life. I prayed that I would never have to endure years of treatments or hundreds of doctor’s appointments, but old age required a lot of maintenance even for those of us in good health. Having someone to drive me to and from appointments, take me to the grocery store if I could no longer drive, and many other conveniences was almost as appealing as having three meals a day cooked for me and bingo on Thursday nights against the backdrop of live music and signature cocktails.
I knew how in-demand this facility was. I had been waiting for six months for a two-bedroom town home to become available. I didn’t want to wait six more. I felt in my very being that moving here was the right thing.
“I’d like to put my deposit down,” I said, practically feeling my late husband in the room with me as I did. I think he would have approved of this decision, would have wanted me to be well taken care of and surrounded by friends during my autumn years. I was always grateful for him, for the life we had together. And, at this moment, when I opened my checkbook, confident that I could afford to take care of myself, I was more grateful for him still. Reid was always scrimping and saving to put more away—something that I could now see was for my benefit.
Getting to come here and be taken care of in my old age was a luxury. I figured after the first time I hosted bridge here, I’d bring in quite a few more converts.
“Well, that is good news, Mrs. Carlisle,” Anna said. “We are so happy to welcome you to Summer Acres. Would you like me to schedule our moving crew to help you transition out of your old home and into your new town house?”
I nodded. “How splendid! I will barely have to bother my family at all. And I’m leaving quite a lot of my furniture at the beach house, so it shouldn’t be too much trouble.”
“You could never be trouble,” Anna responded. “Let’s grab your paperwork and get everything processed for you. Do you have another hour?”
I smiled. “Darling girl, I have all the time in the world.” After a lifetime of raising children—of being Brownie leader and class mom, PTA president and dinner cooker, boo-boo kisser and hair braider, I was used to my days being too full. Now I could finally rest.
While I waited for Anna to get back, I pulled out the postcard that had arrived the day before from Julia in the islands. I had been saving it for a time I could savor it slowly. I had collected postcards for years, and wherever she went she sent me additions for my collection.
Dear Babs,
You will never believe this, but I met one of my architectural heroes on the plane today. He was charming and humble, smart and interesting. （And, well, so cute!） For the first time in a long time I realized that Hayes isn’t the only man in the world. I had forgotten that, but I suppose love is complicated. Infatuation, on the other hand, is so simple. Maybe if I’d realized that a little sooner, I wouldn’t have made it so hard on all of us.
All my love,
Julia
That girl. What I wouldn’t give to go back in time, to have a crush on a boy again. Those days were long over for me.
“Mrs. Carlisle,” Anna said, breaking me out of my thoughts. “Would you like to meet your new liaison?”
I looked up at her from my chair. “My liaison?”
“Your buddy,” she whispered. “They think it sounds too much like summer camp, so when others can hear me, I use the proper term.”
I laughed. “My dear, at eighty years old, I can’t think of anything better than summer camp.”
She smiled.
“How can I already have a buddy?”
“We had one of our favorite residents approved for the program this morning, and we thought why not go ahead and introduce you two, let you get acclimated?”
“Wonderful,” I said.
I followed Anna out to the terrace where a man with his back to me, in a suit, stood overlooking the ocean.
As he turned, Anna said, “I’d like you to meet—”
“Miles?” I gasped, breathless.
“Barbara,” he said, putting his hand to his heart. “Oh, Barbara.” He took both my hands in his.
“So, I presume you two have met?” Anna asked curiously, looking from Miles to me.
“At summer camp,” Miles said, to which Anna laughed delightedly.
“You’re my buddy?”
“Haven’t I always been?” he responded, smiling at me, revealing that same grin he’d worn sixty years earlier when we were head counselors at Camp Holly Ridge in the North Carolina mountains.
“How long has it been?” I asked, thrilled that someone from my past had popped up here.
“Well, we haven’t seen each other since we were, what, twenty-one?”
I nodded. “Let’s leave it at that. Math can be a touch frightening at our age.”
He laughed.
“How long have you been here?” I asked. “How did you even recognize me?”
“Barbara, you haven’t changed one bit,” Miles said. “I would know you anywhere.”
Was that a blush I felt coming to my cheeks?
I thought of Julia and her postcard.
Infatuation indeed…
CORNELIA Called to Serve
November 21, 1918
I don’t know why you want to go to college anyway,” Bunchy—Cornelia’s best friend from Miss Madeira’s—said, her head leaning off the side of Cornelia’s bed.
“Because I want to learn things. I want to fill beakers and study history and read great books.” Cornelia wrapped the familiar Red Cross armband around the blue sleeve of her uniform.
“Well, I hate to tell you this, but if you want to read great books you have the finest library in all the world right here in your own home. I suspect anything else would be a disappointment.”
Noticing her friend’s voice sounded strange, Cornelia turned and, crossing her arms, studied the way Bunchy’s dark hair streamed down the side of the bed as she hung upside-down off it. “Rachel Strong, whatever are you doing?”
At that, Bunchy sat up. “I read an article about how blood rushing to your head is good for your skin.”
Cornelia rolled her eyes, but silently vowed to try it later. “But, really,” she said. “Do you have no interest whatsoever in going to college?”
“Certainly not a girls’ school,” Bunchy said. “I’ve had enough of that at Miss Madeira’s.”
“Well, I don’t want to go to a girls’ school either,” Cornelia said. “I want to go to the University of North Carolina, but they won’t let me in until I’ve had two years of college elsewhere, and I don’t want to go anywhere else.” Wasn’t that how it always was? Cornelia was a woman who had positively everything, but she still wanted the few things she couldn’t have. She was convinced that the next impossible thing she got would fix this unholy restlessness inside her. That thing, she felt sure, was college.