Lilac Time

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

T hree months after her self-imposed isolation, she decided to go to Bennie’s for trivia. Just because she was single didn’t mean she wasn’t allowed to play.

For her first foray into the social scene, she went to great lengths to switch up her relaxed attire and put in some effort to enhance her appearance. It was akin to what she used to wear to work, with a little more attention to hair and makeup. If it didn’t work on Alec, it might get someone else’s attention—although that wasn’t her motive or purpose. She simply wanted to emphasize her assets in case the creep was there.

And he was. And so was Joyce. Sitting on his lap.

Natalie suppressed the urge to slap the person she thought was one of her best friends. Why do women do that to each other? No wonder Joyce had been radio-silent the past month. Whenever Natalie invited her over, Joyce had an excuse. Did Joyce think Alec was now fair game? Didn’t Natalie deserve a conversation on the subject? Not that she would have been thrilled, but a little consideration would have been nice. Natalie would have gladly given her blessing, and a warning. Alec is all about Alec. Good luck.

Natalie was finally over the drama and humiliation of being dumped and was looking forward to making plans with her friends and restoring her social life. Now this? Like a flash of lightning, her emotions went from shock, to hurt, to anger, to a thirst for revenge. She wasn’t going to let two back-stabbers stop her from playing that night. She was more motivated than ever to beat the pants off of them. If she couldn’t physically slap them around, she could certainly throttle them with her intellect. It occurred to her that might have been the reason Alec spent time with her. She always came out ahead of the pack, making them the reigning champions of trivia night. Not anymore. Too bad, so sad, get ready to get your butts kicked. And kick them, she did. Natalie wasn’t sure what was giving her more pleasure: wiping the floor with their miserable scores, or how uncomfortable Joyce was after she leaped off Alec’s lap when Natalie walked in. Natalie was not a vindictive person, but she was feeling good about herself and her trivia prowess.

At the end of the evening, Natalie walked past where Alec and Joyce were sitting. “Great game,” she said, and kissed her fifty-dollar winnings before she slid the bill into her jacket pocket. She was elated. They were deflated. A little satisfaction goes a long way.

The day after the competition at Bennie’s, Joyce left several voicemail messages and texts apologizing to Natalie. Too little, too late. Joyce should have called her before she started dating Alec. Unless . . . could there have been something going on between Joyce and Alec before the “we have to talk” talk that didn’t happen? Is that why Alec broke up with her? Natalie decided it no longer mattered. She was done with both of them.

* * *

The following morning, Natalie’s mother phoned. It was good news/bad news. The bad news was that her father took a fall and had to have hip replacement surgery. The good news was that it was something fixable. But her mother was going to need some help back home.

Considering all that had happened, Natalie was ready for a change of scenery.

Her father was scheduled for surgery that afternoon and would remain in the hospital for three days doing physical and occupational therapy. There was a lot to do to get the house ready for his return, so Natalie packed her laptop, some clothes, and her cat Mr. Meowzer and made the two-and-a-half-hour drive to Sumter County, north-west of Orlando. The plan was to stay with her parents for at least four weeks, until her father finished physical therapy. Although she wished it was under better circumstances, Natalie was glad to be home with the people she loved most.

Her first days home were busy. Natalie and her mother had to make the necessary preparations around the house for when her father got back from the hospital. Pathways had to be clear enough for him to maneuver with a walker. They had to remove scatter rugs that he could trip over. They had to make sure most things in the kitchen were within arm’s reach. No climbing on stools allowed!

Once her dad came home, her mother went back to her job as a loan officer at a local bank, and Natalie was in charge of keeping an eye on her father to make sure he didn’t overexert himself. She did her best not to baby him. His doctor said he should move around, but Natalie was ever watchful, trying not to hover.

Her mother had weekends off and insisted that Natalie get out and interact with people her own age. But where? And with whom? Natalie hadn’t lived in Sumter in almost fifteen years. Her mother suggested she could help out at the farmers market, where at the end of the day, any unsold perishables would be taken to the local food pantry. They were always in need of volunteers. Natalie thought that sounded easy enough, and she would be helping a good cause. Her mother gave her the phone number of their pastor who organized the group, and he was delighted to have someone to help. Natalie promised she would stay as long as it took to get everything cleaned up, stacked up, and organized, and she offered to work on Saturday at the pantry.

* * *

When the first Saturday approached, Natalie was in a lighthearted mood. She was excited to start socializing with people again. Even though she had been out of town for over a decade, she figured she would run into some old school chums.

She got to the market early and was about to maneuver her vehicle into a parking space when someone zipped ahead of her, causing her to slam on the brakes. She instinctively leaned on the horn but got absolutely no response from the driver. He left the motor of his truck running, hopped out of the cab, pulled down the tailgate, and yanked a case of jars from the bed. Natalie watched with interest, waiting for the man to apologize. Nothing. She was tempted to lean on the horn again but thought it might be rude. After all, this was the country, and people were more cordial. Except for this dude.

Natalie considered moving to a different parking space but decided to wait patiently for the man to return and atone for his ill-mannered behavior. Meanwhile, she noticed the exceptionally large, hairy head of a dog sticking out of the passenger-side window of the truck. She was tempted to get out of her vehicle and have a chat with the dog about his owner’s rude behavior, but then thought better of it.

She checked her watch. A whole ten minutes went by before he came back. She rolled down her window, expecting an apology, but nothing. Zero. He simply got back into his vehicle and pushed the gear in reverse and came within inches of hitting her car. That was enough. She leaned on the horn, stuck her head out the window, and yelled, “Where did you get your license? A Cracker Jack box?”

He grinned, winked, and gave her a two-finger salute. At that point, Natalie was fuming and muttering, “What is wrong with people?” She noticed there was something painted in yellow on the side of the truck, but she couldn’t make out what it was from her vantage point. She took a few deep breaths and gathered her composure. Chances were she would never see the guy again. Why waste her time confronting him?

Natalie spent the next four hours walking among the tables and carts, chatting with the vendors, some who went as far back as her childhood. She felt welcome. At ease. The four hours passed quickly. At the end of the day, she and the other volunteers gathered the remaining goods and packed them in their cars. She followed the convoy to the pantry.

As they pulled into the parking lot, she noticed a familiar-looking truck, the same hairy dog, and let out a groan. Seriously? There has to be more than one green pickup truck with a hairy dog in the county. That’s when she spotted “Mr. Rude” helping unpack the goods. This time she took a long look at him. He was at least six feet tall, lean but muscular, with a mop of sun-bleached hair and some scruffy facial hair. His eyes were hidden by his Oakley Hydra sunglasses with sapphire lenses, but had he not been so rude, Natalie thought he could be attractive. Maybe. She waited for him to go inside the building, and then she hurriedly removed the boxes from her car and left them with the person parked next to her. It was becoming clear that chances were that she would see that guy again, but she’d rather have it be later than sooner.

She turned to the gentleman who took her boxes. “Who is that guy?”

“Oh, Garrett? The local beekeeper. Got some of the best honey around.” The man heaved the boxes onto a cart.

“Huh,” she muttered. Obviously, none of the honey’s sweetness had rubbed off on him.

“That’s his dog, Mr. Bumbles. Like the bee.” The man chuckled.

She thought that was his only redeeming quality—he had a dog. It struck her that he called his dog “Mister,” the same as she addressed her cat. Just an odd coincidence , she told herself. She thanked the man, got back into her car, and drove to her parents’ house.

As she pulled up, she saw her father on the front porch, using a walker. “Hey Dad! How is it going? Are you sure you’re alright out here by yourself?”

“I’m fine, honey.”

Honey! Ugh. That word. She climbed to where he was getting his steps in for the day. “You sure you’re okay with that? Do you need some help?” she asked.

“I’m fine, sweetie,” he assured her.

“Hey, what’s with those?” Natalie asked, pointing to the tennis balls on the legs of the walker.

He laughed. “They help this contraption glide easier on the wood floor.”

Natalie chuckled. “I thought you were taking up another hobby.”

“Well, maybe, but not this week.”

“Everything else good?” she asked.

“Yep! Doc says I’m doing great. I should be graduating to a cane in about two weeks.”

“Excellent.” Natalie gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You’re looking good. Got some color back.”

“Yep. They say that the anesthesia can stay in your system for months. How about that?”

“So, you’re drinking plenty of water, right?”

“You betcha. Your mother is like a prison guard. She stood in front of me until I drank the entire glass. Did that to me at least seven times today.” He chuckled.

“Don’t think you’re going to get away with anything during the week when I’m in charge,” she said, grinning.

“I have no expectations of anything less,” he laughed, patting her hand.

“What about discomfort? Pain?” Natalie was concerned about pain medications. They can really mess you up, temporarily and permanently.

“Just taking Extra Strength Tylenol. Can’t say I’m ready to put on my dancing shoes, but it’s tolerable, and I’d rather have a little discomfort for a few days than have my body bombarded with more drugs.” He shifted his stance. “Come. Let’s see what your mother is cooking up in the kitchen.”

Robert Simmons also worked in a bank. That’s how Natalie’s parents met, forty years before, when he was a teller. Now he was the branch manager, and well-liked by everyone in town. Robert liked to joke that he worked hard to win over the residents of Sumter County. Years ago, it was a rural agricultural community, but when Disney World descended upon Florida, it brought people from different backgrounds into the burgeoning area. There was a lot of resentment and suspicion toward the new residents in the beginning. Robert loved to tell the story of how, by always being extra polite and a hard worker, he earned the high praise of the locals, who would say he was “a fine, articulate country boy—not arrogant like most of them college educated folks.” Over time, people became more tolerant—and the new transplants got more acclimated to Sumter County ways. At first, those from the more urban areas got frustrated at the much slower pace of “country folk,” but more often than not, they soon found an appreciation for the relaxed lifestyle.

Having lived in Jacksonville for ten years, Natalie forgot how laid-back Sumter County was. When she visited for a weekend, she didn’t have a lot of time to spend around the small town, but now that she was in for a longer period, she had to downshift at least a notch, more likely two. Natalie wasn’t sure how well she was going to adjust to this new (or was it old?) environment, but after a few days of walking in the woods, she assumed she would feel more at home. She was already savoring aspects of country life. She hadn’t realized how much she missed the air. So clean. Fresh. Not that Jacksonville was an industrialized city, but it was still a city. She would just need to relax more, take things a bit slower, and enjoy small-town charm. She thought about the rude beekeeper from earlier that day. Charm? Ha! He must have absorbed the stinger, rather than the sweetness.

* * *

As she entered the kitchen, Natalie got a whiff of her mother’s famous grapefruit custard pie, fresh out of the oven. Grapefruit custard had become one of her specialties. Grapefruit and oranges were in abundance in Sumter County, and Natalie’s mother Sally had decided it was time to do her own “farm-to-table” experiment. “Anyone can make an apple pie. I want to do something different,” she’d said. And she did. Every year, her pies won every competition in the county. “The Keys have their limes, and I’ve got my grapefruit,” was how she explained her experiment with the local fruit.

“Sweetie, can you grab a jar of paprika from the pantry?” Sally asked, as she quartered a chicken. “I want to get this bird ready for dinner.”

Natalie stepped inside the walk-in storage area and spotted a jar of honey on a shelf. “Mom? Where did you get this honey?”

“At the farmers market; why?”

She masked her visceral reaction. “No reason. Simply curious.” Natalie picked up the golden bottle and checked the label: B EE -C AUSE . In smaller letters, it said: One third of the world’s food supply is pollinated by bees. Bee-careful when you see one. Don’t swat it. Thank it and walk away.

“How many honey farmers are at the market?” Natalie called from inside the pantry.

“Just the one. Garrett something.”

Natalie rolled her eyes. Of course .

“I think the name and the label are rather cute, don’t you?” her mother asked, referring to a winking bumblebee.

“Yeah. Adorable.” Now Mr. Rude’s wink made sense. She brought the paprika to her mother.

“I’m surprised you didn’t meet him at the market,” her mother said while seasoning the chicken.

“You could say we almost ran into each other,” Natalie said, smirking. She knew that was not going to be the end of Mr. Bee-devil.

Her mother looked perplexed but didn’t press the subject. She had to finish dinner.

“Can I help you with anything?” Natalie asked her mother.

“You can light the grill for your father.”

“You sure about that?”

“He can stand up. He can cook.” She winked at her daughter. Sally knew her husband did not want to be treated like he was disabled, so giving him a chore was good for his spirit. Professionally, Robert was a desk jockey, but when away from his office, he enjoyed the outdoors.

When Natalie and Nicholas were young, he took them on hikes through the woods. As they got older and spent more time with friends and school activities, he started to play golf. He claimed, “it was better for business,” which wasn’t entirely a lie. The old adage that many a deal was made on a golf course had merit, considering almost one third of all big-business deals were made on the green, or at the “nineteenth hole,” a nickname for the pub or the clubhouse .

Robert Simmons was not a sit-around kind of guy. His wife and daughter knew it was important to keep him busy, one of the main reasons Sally asked Natalie to come down and help. In all truth, he was perfectly capable of maneuvering without adult supervision, but he also needed mental stimulation. He would go bonkers if he were left alone with the TV remote. He wasn’t much for television, unless it was a golf tournament or a good Agatha Christie movie. And do not get him started on social media. “There is nothing social about it,” he’d say. To him, it was ludicrous that with all the devices and tools, no one knew how to have a conversation. Natalie would make fun of him, saying, “Every generation has its cross to bear. TikTok is ours.”

During one of their recent discussions on the topic, they debated the pros and cons of social media. They agreed it was becoming too much of a crutch, and people had to start to think for themselves and not accept everything they read online. That was part of the overall problem. Her father always said, “Just because it’s on the Internet, it doesn’t mean it’s true. People need to do their research and not from that ticking thingy.”

“It’s called TikTok, Dad.”

“More like a ticking time bomb,” he said, and snickered.

Natalie laughed. True, her professional life was ensconced in technology, and she would often find herself defending it—it was, after all, an extremely useful tool for finding information, provided it was from a reliable source. But there had to be a balance, like no phones at the dinner table. Ever. “Unless you are a doctor on call, or waiting to hear if someone has come out of surgery, there is no reason for it,” her father would say.

Natalie had to agree with that. She would see people at restaurants glued to their phones. “Why not just do takeout and sit in your living room?” Yes, society needed balance.

For a reason she could not explain, Natalie wondered what Mr. Bee-Cause thought about it. Was he tech savvy? Did he even care? Was he interested in his hives and his hives alone? More importantly, why was she contemplating this? Why did she even care? She had a stinger under her skin, and she had to pull it out. But before that happened, she planned to check his Internet presence after dinner . . . just out of curiosity.

She went out to the back porch and lit the grill while her parents chatted in the kitchen. There was a grove of trees beyond a small field where she and her brother and friends used to play soccer, softball, or anything that required you to run around. She wondered how much the woods had changed and decided to explore the next day.

Twenty minutes later, she shouted toward the house. “Grill is ready!” Then she realized her father would need help. Somebody had to carry the chicken.

Natalie’s mother was steaming the string beans while her father was seasoning some corn to put on the grill. “Not too much salt, Robert. We don’t want your blood pressure to get all flooey.”

“I do not believe that is a medical term,” he teased, and moved out of the way so Natalie could grab the platter. “Mind if I join you?” he asked.

“Who do you think is going to cook this feast?” Natalie joked.

Robert maneuvered his walker and followed Natalie to the door. She held the screen open with one hand while he shuffled to the porch. “I can’t wait to get rid of this thing.” He banged it on the wooden floor.

“Trust me. All of us can’t wait, either.” She grinned. She set the platter down on one of the stainless-steel shelves attached to the grill. “I’m going to check on Mr. Meowzer. Can I trust you to behave for a few minutes?”

“I can’t promise you anything. I might try and make a run for it. That physical therapist is one tough cookie.” He chuckled.

Natalie took the stairs to the second floor two at a time. She realized she hadn’t seen her fur baby since she got home. The big pile of fluff was lounging in the middle of her bed. He looked like an overstuffed floor cushion.

“Oh baby-boo. Sorry I’m late. I am a terrible mother.”

He stretched and yawned as if to say, “You are disturbing my nap.”

Natalie cuddled with her kitty for a few minutes and told him all about the ill-mannered bee guy. “And to think he has a dog. Well, I hope he treats him with a little more respect than he did to me.”

Mr. Meowzer looked up at her, and Natalie burst out laughing. “You’re right. Sometimes I prefer animals over people. Actually, most of the time.”

She got up and checked his bowl for food. All good. “Maybe we’ll let you explore the rest of the house tomorrow when I can keep an eye on you and make sure there are no escape routes available for your inquisitive soul.” She gave him a kiss on the head. “I’m going to have dinner with grandma and grandpa. See you in a bit.”

When Natalie returned to the kitchen, she savored the aroma of the grilled food, while her mother was garnishing her string beans almondine. “Honey, can you check on the potatoes?”

Natalie cringed again at the word honey . How can one man completely ruin a word? And again, she wondered why he vexed her so much. Was it his sinewy muscles that were exposed from his shirt with the ripped-off sleeves? Or his mischievous grin? Was it the sassy wink? The salute? He unnerved her. That was one thing of which she was certain.

Natalie grabbed an oven mitt and retrieved the spuds from the lower oven. “I’ll go see how Dad’s doing.”

“Perfect timing,” he remarked as she stepped outside. He used tongs to remove the chicken and corn from the grill and placed them on the platter.

“You haven’t lost your touch.” Natalie smiled. “I’ll bring these in and get the door for you.”

The three gathered at the table. It was a glorious-looking spread. Robert insisted he could manage to get in his chair without any help.

“Remember, I am in recovery, so it’s important that I do as much as I can without compromising my surgery. A chair, I can manage. Just don’t ask me to go horseback riding.” He chortled. “But in all seriousness, they wouldn’t let me out of the hospital unless I was able to climb a flight of stairs and put on a pair of socks with my handy-dandy sock helper.” He was referring to a plastic contraption that looked like it was made from an empty bottle of bleach and two pieces of rope. “This group of doctors are top-notch. They had me watch a ten-minute video, and I had my own personal physician’s assistant go over everything from A to Z.”

“I’m happy you opted for daily visits to physical therapy. You will heal much faster than if you had someone come to the house three times a week,” Sally noted.

Robert leaned in toward Natalie and winked. “I call it ‘ortho-boot-camp.’ I have to admit, I am enjoying the shower seat.”

“That is going to be the first thing to retire to the garage,” Sally quipped. “I have to move it out of the way if I want to take a bath.”

“Try the shower seat. It’s a nice experience. I feel like I’m at a spa.”

Sally huffed. Having the house retrofitted to accommodate Robert’s recovery was only a small inconvenience, but it was not a look Sally wanted to keep any longer than necessary. A second railing was installed on the staircase so he could have support on both sides. The bathroom required a temporary raised commode. They exchanged the glass shower doors for a curtain, a safety bar, and a new handheld shower head. The half-bath on the main floor also needed a raised commode.

“I’m glad you didn’t listen to some of your friends, who insisted you put a hospital bed in the dining room,” Sally said.

“Even my surgeon agreed on that point. So much of recovery is psychological. You do the work, and you get on with your life,” Robert replied.

“Let’s say grace,” Sally suggested as they held hands. “Thank you for this wonderful meal, our family, and all the blessings in our life. Amen.”

“How was your first day at the farmers market?” Natalie’s father asked.

Natalie shuddered at the thought of discussing her encounter with Mr. Bee-Cause, however fleeting it was. “I met some wonderful people. The atmosphere was lively, and it was busy.”

“It’s the first weekend of the season,” her mother remarked. “Was the cheese man there?” Sally was referring to an older gentleman who migrated from Italy via New York. “He has brought us the most amazing mozzarella.” She pronounced it mutts-a-rell as opposed to mozz-a-rella.

“Oh, aren’t we the continental one?” Natalie teased.

“Respect, dear.” Sally grinned. “And the proper way to say tomato sauce is mar-eh-nah-ra and not mari-nari .”

“She’s fluent,” Robert teased.

“I can see that.” Natalie dug into her juicy chicken.

“And it’s fo-ca-chia, not fo-co-chia ,” Sally laughed.

“I see you’ve learned to master an Italian menu,” Natalie said between bites. “But to answer your question, he was not at a table today, but I heard someone say he would be there tomorrow. Someone said he had to go to New York to get a few pounds of provolone. Did I say that correctly?” Natalie joshed.

“Molto bene!” Sally replied.

Robert looked over at his wife and knitted his brows. “Don’t tell me you are having an affair with Mr. Giambelli?”

“Darling, he’s almost eighty years old.”

“That didn’t stop Rupert Murdoch,” Robert retorted with a devilish grin. “He was eighty-five when he married Jerry Hall. And she was fifty-nine.”

Everyone burst out laughing. Natalie felt a rush of dopamine. Laughter was the best medicine, especially when you are sharing it with your family—and good friends, if she still had any.

Lively banter filled the room as they enjoyed their meal. Natalie felt a pang of guilt. One of the reasons she moved to Jacksonville was because it wasn’t that far away from home. It could be as short as a day trip if necessary. But when was the last time she came to visit? Why didn’t she go home more often? She felt she may have come to a crossroad. Lots of questions and thoughts were forming in her head: Who can you count on? Who do you trust? Where do you belong? Maybe going with the flow wasn’t the ultimate ideal. At least look around and see where the water is taking you. You could be headed for dangerous rapids . She thought about her friends in Jacksonville. Were they even her friends? How long had they known that her “best friend” was hooking up with her ex-boyfriend? They, too, were splashing about with little direction. Had her generation become lazy? Uninspired? Indifferent? The fact that she was thinking about it was good. One day away from her routine, and already she was taking steps to figure out her life.

Several minutes passed. “Natalie? You okay?” Her mother noticed her daughter had become pensive.

Natalie snickered. “Yes. I am quite okay.” That’s when she decided to tell her parents about Alec and Joyce. She got up and began to clear the table. Once the plates were stacked near the sink, she put on a pot of coffee. “I hope we’re getting some of that pie tonight.” Natalie raised her eyebrows in anticipation and nodded toward the pie cooling on the counter.

“I was going to save it for tomorrow, but there is no reason why we can’t have a slice tonight.” Sally got up from her chair and brought clean plates and the pie to the table. She handed each of them a piece.

Natalie began, “So . . .” She took a long pause. “There is something I want to tell you.”

Sally’s eyes went wide. “Honey, is everything alright?”

Natalie had a silent gag at the word honey again. “Yes, everything is fine. Really. Alec and I broke up a couple of months ago.”

“And you didn’t tell us?” Her father’s voice sounded troubled.

“No, because I was working a few things out. I think the biggest revelation was that I didn’t shed a tear.”

“So, you broke up with him?” Sally queried.

“No, he broke up with me,” Natalie said calmly.

“But why?” Her father’s voice was in a slight state of disbelief.

“We never got to that point,” Natalie continued. “We were meeting for dinner, and when I got there he said, ‘Nat, we have to talk.’ That’s all I had to hear. There is no good outcome. Somebody was about to get hurt, and there was a target on my back.”

“I don’t understand,” her mother prodded.

“Mom, when someone says those four dreaded words, you know where it’s going. If it had been something good, he would have had the conversation with me at home. In private. But he picked a restaurant. A public place.”

Her father was nodding. She continued, “The ‘we have to talk’ is a preamble to either ‘it’s not you, it’s me, or ‘I think you’re swell, but . . .’”

“What did you do?” Sally asked.

“I hope you punched him in the face,” her normally mild-mannered father snarked.

Natalie laughed out loud. “That’s exactly what I wanted to do, but I grabbed hold of the table, got up, and left.”

“Then what happened?”

“Nothing. He never called or sent a text. Ever.”

“Oh dear. That is so rude,” Sally said.

“But wait, there’s more. After three months of self-evaluation and self-imposed isolation, I prettied myself up. Dad, you would have been proud. No dress, but business casual, hair, and makeup.”

He was smiling at his daughter.

“I decided to go to Bennie’s for trivia night. There are no rules that say ex-girlfriends are not allowed, especially ex-girlfriends who always win. Anyway, when I walked into the pub, there was my so-called friend Joyce, sitting on Alec’s lap!”

“Oh my. That is terrible! I thought she was your friend,” Sally said.

“So did I, but that would be a big no . But here’s the best part. I won the fifty-dollar first prize in trivia.”

“Well, good for you!” her father exclaimed.

“Actually, the best part was when I sauntered past them with the bill in my hands and said, ‘Great game.’ Then I kissed President Ulysses S. Grant’s picture. It was epic.”

Sally laughed. “Well, good for you!”

“That’s my girl,” Robert said, chuckling.

“What happened after that?” Sally asked.

“Joyce left a few voicemails, but I haven’t returned any of her calls. For what? To ask her if they had been cheating behind my back? How long had it been going on? It didn’t matter. I could never trust her again.”

“And you are okay with all of this?” her father asked.

“Yes. Yes, I am. Don’t take this the wrong way, Pop, but you couldn’t have broken your hip at a better time.” She got up from her chair, stood behind her father, and gave him a wraparound hug.

“Glad to be of assistance,” he laughed, patting her hands.

“What are your plans for tomorrow, besides the food pantry?” her mother asked.

“I really don’t have any. Maybe take a walk through the woods. See how much has changed.”

Her father gave a little frown. “Don’t wander too far. There is a housing development about a mile from here.”

“Don’t tell me they tore down the woods?” Natalie was aghast.

“Not all of them, thanks to the local farmers and city council. For every tree they cut down, they had to plant two, and not just some scruff pine or shrubs. They had to be the equivalent of what they were removing.”

“That’s sort of what they do in the lumbering industry,” Natalie noted.

“Yes. That’s where we got the idea. Your brother put us in touch with an organization for reforestation, and they did a survey for us. Free of charge, I might add,” her father said proudly.

“Well good for you and everyone else. It drives me crazy when I see bulldozers plowing down everything in sight. It’s becoming a problem near me.”

“It’s a problem everywhere, honey,” her father said. “I know a lot of people make fun of the ‘tree huggers,’ but trees provide the oxygen we need to breathe. And don’t get me started on what they are doing to the Amazon.” He took a deep breath. “We are excessively big consumers of the earth’s natural resources, and a lot of people turn a blind eye, but I don’t think it is unreasonable to expect land developers to replace what they ruin.”

Natalie couldn’t argue with that—not that she would.

“Speaking of preservation, you know that honey in the pantry?” her mother asked, giving Natalie a nudge toward indigestion. “The beekeeper gives a tour and does a talk about bees and pollination. You should sign up for it.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Natalie said casually, while thinking, only if you hold my feet to a fire .

It was close to eight o’clock by the time they finished their chat and cleared the kitchen.

“I’m whipped. Do you mind if I take a shower and hit the sack? I think Mr. Meowzer will be getting cranky if I don’t pay attention to him.”

“Of course, dear,” her mother replied. “You know, you don’t have to keep him locked in your room.”

“Thanks, but I don’t want him to get under Dad’s feet.”

“Good point,” her father said.

“I’ll see how antsy he is. If he’s chilling out, then I’ll leave him to his own devices. He has toys, and I left the radio on for him. He’s partial to classical music.” She grinned, kissed her father on the top of his head, and gave her mother a hug. “You need any help getting upstairs?”

“My doctor would be appalled if I said I did.” He smiled. “Get a good night’s sleep, sweetheart.”

“ ’Night,” Natalie said as she climbed the stairs. Just as she thought, her fur baby was curled up right in the middle of the bed, unbothered by her absence.

“Hello, baby-boo. Did you miss me?”

He yawned and rolled over. It was time for his belly rub.

“Would you like some dinner?” She opened a pouch of his favorite kitty tuna, and like a flash, he hopped off the bed.

“I’m incredibly happy you are adjusting well. In fact, I think I’m also adjusting well. It’s nice to be here.”

Natalie got undressed, put on a robe, and headed to the adjacent bathroom, where Mr. Meowzer’s litter box was situated under the sink. Her parents had their own bath, and the one Natalie was using had two doors: one from her room, and another from the hall. After her shower she did a rough blow-out, slipped into a fresh pair of pajamas, and got into bed. She flipped on the TV to see if she had missed anything important besides Jeopardy! Many of her friends encouraged her to try out for the famous game show, but being a local trivia champion was good enough for her.

Mr. Meowzer finished his dinner, went into the bathroom to do his business, and returned to his spot on the bed.

“Hey, move over, dude,” Natalie said as she pulled him closer to her. “What do you think of Hotel Simmons? Is it to your liking?”

He purred his answer. So far, so good . As soon as her head hit the pillow, Natalie was out like a light.