Chapter 14
Hose water is cold. But at least the mud is gone.
Thank goodness my shirt isn’t white.
I’m not sure I’ll ever live this day down, but at least I got the mud out of my ear. Most of it anyway.
I spend most of the afternoon in my room, unpacking and setting everything up. It’s nice to have a space of my own, and without
much trying, it’s already feeling like an escape.
My phone dings with a new possible love match, followed by a text from Maya: This one is a doctor! Go out with him, Rosie.
I send her a thumbs-down emoji and toss my phone on the bed as my stomach growls, reminding me that I haven’t eaten today. It’s moved past the point of, “Hey, you should eat,” into, “WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME!?”
I make a mental note to pick up some snacks as I walk into the kitchen and open the pantry. I wonder if I could steal a bowl
of cereal. I could pay her back tomorrow. There are at least five boxes in here—the sugary kind, nothing healthy. Somehow,
after meeting Daisy, this doesn’t surprise me. And somehow, it makes me love her more.
I reach for a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch when a voice stops me.
“That’s not yours.”
I spin around and see her standing in the doorway.
I pull my hand back. “Oh! Sorry, I missed dinner and haven’t had a chance to—”
She cracks a smile. “Just kidding. You can eat whatever you want, but you might want to head over to the Commons.”
I frown. “I thought it was closed.”
“Special circumstances.” She leans her head into the room a little more. “ Your special circumstances,” she adds, as if I don’t know that my golf cart hijinks are the circumstances she’s referring to.
When I don’t move, she walks over to me, drapes her arm around my shoulder, and gives me a tug toward the door. “You didn’t
get a proper Sunset Hills welcome. One thing you should know about the staff here, Rosie”—she stops and looks at me—“Is that
we take care of each other.”
The words land. It’s like a clenched fist relaxes.
My friends back home take care of each other too, but it’s been a long time since I’ve really been a part of that circle.
I miss it. In the past several years, I’ve found no suitable replacement. I’ve done the networking and the mingling. I know
a lot of people. But I’m not part of a group. There’s no one to call when I feel down.
That thought stops me.
“Give me a second.”
I head back into my room and find my phone, click open the group text, and start typing. The old Rosie—maybe the real Rosie—would’ve
shared the crazy golf cart story with her friends. And being home made me realize how I’ve let my so-called failures steal
that part of myself. I don’t know how to make light of anything because every mess-up feels like proof that I’m a disaster.
But I don’t want to keep myself to myself. Not from them. Not anymore.
Rosie: Hey guys! I’m getting settled. My cottage is amazing! I have my own mailbox! I’ve got a story for FaceTime later—it’s a doozy! Classic Rosie! Miss you guys.
Taylor: Oh, I LOVE classic Rosie stories!! So glad you’re having fun!
Marnie: Does this story involve wildlife? I swear all classic Rosie stories involve wildlife.
Maya: I’m not sure anything can top the attack of the killer goose!
Rosie: Heading out for a bit, but I’ll text again soon! ??
“You ready?” Daisy calls from the other room.
“Yep, coming!”
I tuck my phone in my pocket as I slip the green Crocs on and meet Daisy as she opens the door and walks out onto the porch.
She glances at my feet and grins. “Your shoes were a casualty of the—”
“Yep,” I cut her off.
“Well, those are, you know, a statement piece.”
I shake my head and follow her down the steps, across the grass, and eventually into the building they call the Commons.
It’s basically a large open room with a cement floor and rows of tables with benches for sitting. It’s not fancy or grand,
but there’s something about it that feels homey and nostalgic. Like summer camp, which is a lot how this whole experience
feels.
If summer camp had senior citizens and a golf cart–eating sinkhole.
“Come on, we’re going this way.” Daisy leads me through the Staff Only door and into the kitchen, where Booker is standing
at the stove, cooking what looks like an omelet.
Connie is on the other side of a long silver counter, and Daisy walks over to a cupboard and pulls out a plate.
“What’s this?” I stare at them—these perfect strangers—and this simple act of kindness overwhelms me.
“You’re hungry, right?” Booker looks at me, and I nod. “Hopefully you like omelets.”
He’s making me an omelet? “You’re making me an omelet?” It takes a second for the scene in front of me to register.
A bagel pops up in the toaster, and Connie uses a pair of wooden tongs to pull it out and put it on the plate. “You can doctor
that up however you like.” She slides it across the counter in my direction. “Jelly and cream cheese and all the fixin’s are
in the fridge.” Her watch beeps. “Oh shoot. That’s my cue. I have to skedaddle. My husband is taking me out to the movies.
It’s one he let me pick—that man might just get lucky tonight!” She waggles her eyebrows.
I let out one loud laugh—more surprise than humor.
Connie does a little shoulder shimmy, then calls out, “Booker, lock up when you leave.”
“I always do,” he says.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” she says. “This after-hours smorgasbord is a onetime thing. For Rosie.”
Daisy and Booker exchange a knowing look, and for the first time since I got here, I want to be in on their inside jokes.
The door swings open as Connie is about to walk out, and she lets out a dramatic gasp. “What in tarnation?!”
A heavyset man wearing a backward baseball cap lifts his hands and takes a step into the room, away from Connie. “Sorry, Connster.”
She swats him on the arm and then eyes him. “Louie, good heavens! What are you doing in here?”
He tosses a quick glance at Booker, then shrugs. “Uh, came to get a snack?”
“The Commons is closed after dinner,” she says. “Do y’all raid this kitchen regularly?”
They all look away, like they rehearsed it.
“Of course not, Connie,” Louie says, then quickly adds, “hardly ever.”
She shakes her head and points a finger. “You’re lucky I’ve got a hot date and don’t have time to deal with this right now.”
The door swings closed behind her as she makes her exit, and from outside she shouts again, “Lock up when you leave!”
“You got it, boss!” Louie shouts and then grins as Booker walks over to the counter and expertly flips the omelet onto my
plate.
“Man, I thought she was already gone.” Louie’s eyes are wide.
Booker shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “You’re going to get us in trouble.”
“She said we could be in here!” Louie raises both palms.
“Just this time,” Daisy says. “As a welcome to Rosie. She doesn’t know about the other times.”
“Well, she didn’t know,” Booker says. “She does now.”
“Sorry, man,” Louie says. Then he looks at me. “And you are Rosie, I presume?” He does a strange little bow, and I think I’ve
met a kindred spirit.
“I am,” I say.
“I’m Louie.” His gaze dips to my feet. “Rad shoes!”
In spite of the flush of embarrassment that rushes to my cheeks, I instantly like Louie too. This is starting to be a trend.
Louie glances at Daisy. “Hey.”
Her cheeks turn pink, and her face brightens. “Hey, Louie.”
Booker and I are both watching them stare at each other for what becomes at least ten seconds, then Louie clears his throat
and walks over to the refrigerator. “Did you make me an omelet, Booker?”
“No. Only Rosie.”
Only Rosie. Yeah, I’m in trouble.
Booker looks at me and nods toward my plate. “You should eat before it gets cold.” He reaches into a drawer, pulls out a fork, and holds it out in my direction.
I take it and smile. “Thank you for making this.”
He leans in. “Figured it’d taste better than mud.”
“I heard about that!” Louie laughs. “Booker said it was the funniest—” When he turns and sees my face, he snaps his jaw shut
and adopts a solemn expression. “I have always said those golf carts can be treacherous.” He picks up an empty metal pan and
starts pulling stuff from the refrigerator. “I’m making a sandwich. Does anyone want one?”
“Most of us don’t eat two dinners,” Daisy says.
“Well, then most of you are missing out.” He winks at Daisy, and she smiles. It’s like watching a strange rom-com from the
inside.
“Louie... is... one of the nurses,” she says as a measured introduction. “He’s great with the residents.”
“That’s head nurse, ma’am.” He piles ham onto a piece of bread, then adds tomatoes, lettuce, cheese, mayo, and mustard as I slowly chew
my very tasty omelet. He looks at me. “And Booker told me all about you, so no need to give me your résumé.”
“Oh, he did?” I glance at Booker, who is washing the pan he cooked my omelet in. “Funny, because he doesn’t know anything
about me.”
Booker looks at me. “I’m a very patient man.”
At the mention of his proposed plan, I stop chewing. Because for some reason, it doesn’t seem like such a crazy idea anymore.
Ask questions and answer honestly. I can do that. Right?
Louie interrupts my swooning with a laugh. “Can’t believe you didn’t know you took a job with a bunch of old people. How did
that happen?”
Because I was desperate , I think but don’t say.
“But you are going to stay, right, Rosie?” Daisy pulls a carton of ice cream out of the freezer and scoops some into a bowl. “Like, you’re not freaked out enough to leave, right?”
“Ooh! Scoop me some!” Louie says.
Daisy pulls out another bowl. “For a health-care professional, you have the worst eating habits I’ve ever seen.”
Louie rubs his ample belly. “I’m built for comfort, not for speed.” He sticks out his tongue and gyrates, and she just shakes
her head.
Booker leans against the counter and watches me the same way he did at the bus station before we’d ever spoken a word to each
other. And as Daisy and Louie continue bantering, we both start to smile, as if we have our own silent conversation happening
in the footnotes.