Chapter 10
Ten
Didi
It had been a busy morning. It was funny, what constituted busy to her these days. They’d had one appointment for Jorge and then gone to the hardware store. She wanted a nap now. That would have been nothing in her forties or even fifties and sixties. But something about being in her seventies was, as the kids say, hitting different.
She wanted to zonk out for a bit, but alas. No time for that!
Didi and Jorge lived in a condo a few blocks away from Sea Turtle Resort.
They used to be able to stroll over here from their condo, easy peasy.
She just had to walk along Bayview a short way to where it ended a block from the Sea Turtle. She could get her steps in and check on guests in one quick walk! Plus, Jorge was never more than a few minutes wait for any maintenance issue that popped up when they weren’t here.
It was such a good retirement setup for both of them. Well, it used to be.
And today’s news hadn’t been what they wanted to hear.
“He is not to lift anything that weighs more than a gallon of milk, got it?” Doctor Diller had instructed them.
“I told you that.” Didi had smacked Jorge on the shoulder.
“Hey, I’m in recovery.”
“I told him not to try to get the chlorine out of the shed, but what does he do?”
“You can’t lift it, not with your frozen shoulder.”
“Ugh, the two of us barely make one complete functioning human!”
The doctor had written something on his prescription pad.
“Look, you both need PT.”
“What? I didn’t have surgery! He’s the one with a new hip.”
“Yes, but your shoulder could stand some physical therapy. Or we could do surgery on you too.” Doctor Diller had looked over his readers at both of them.
They did not have time for another surgery right now.
“Fine, fine. Therapy,” Didi had said.
She’d taken the script and another for antibiotics, so Jorge’s infection stayed gone.
Jorge had waited in the truck while she picked up laundry soap and bleach for the resort. Then he’d done nothing but complain as she tried to get it from the truck to the shed.
“Let me help you at least get it on the hand cart.”
Between the two of them, they’d unpacked the truck and now were ready for said nap.
It was barely one in the afternoon.
Jorge sat uncomfortably in the chair opposite the little desk they had in the complex’s office space. The space functioned as a check-in desk, a laundromat for the guests, and their office. This place, too, was in disarray. There just wasn’t time to organize here and do the pool and keep up with the guests. However, Didi realized they didn’t have many guests lately. That, she decided, was a blessing. Fully booked would be too much to handle right now.
“Ugh, the air conditioning fan is busted. That’s why it’s making that noise.”
Didi hadn’t noticed. What she had noticed was the pile of bills. “What are we going to do with these?”
“Well, what’s the account looking like?”
“It’s a little thin,” Didi told him. “Our last guest on the cottages left in a huff, if you recall.”
“We have two families coming for cottages, so that should be enough to handle that little pile.”
“I can always dip into our?—”
“No,” Jorge interrupted. “We said no to that. If this place doesn’t fly anymore, we agreed, no life support.”
“I am not ready to pull the plug on Sea Turtle. I’m not. We’re just going to have to get better, you and me.”
“No argument here. I told you it’s your call, and this place is our retirement hobby as long as you want to do this. I will say I’m sick of being in here though. What about we take the chairs out to the beach?”
“Yeah, that sound is annoying. But I carry the chairs, mister.” The chairs were resin, light weight, and Didi knew for a fact she could carry two without too much trouble.
Jorge harrumphed at her declaration. Then he stood up and walked over to the air conditioning unit. He banged the side of it with his hand. It was a wall unit that kept the office cool. Central air in their office was wasteful, plus they were barely in here. Most of their work was out with the guests, on the grounds, in the motel. This place was a phone and files and the attached laundry. The smack to the side of the air conditioning unit did the trick. It stopped moaning in protest.
Didi thought about the phone. Her wandering cell phone. She just hadn’t ever adjusted to using it like a landline. Thinking about the landline, she reshuffled the pile of bills.
There it was. This had to be the reason they’d had a few quiet weeks of rentals.
Past due from the Tampa Telecomm.
“Oh no, that was one of the bills I neglected! The phone! It’s not on!”
“No wonder bookings are down,” Jorge sighed. “No one can call. Good thing you’re a bombshell. Otherwise, I’m sure I’d have no use for you.”
Didi slid herself under Jorge’s shoulder to steady him. She could see the effort it was taking him to stand up and tinker with the air conditioner.
“Oh, yes, thank goodness for that. How else did I snag the Latin Lover of Mangrove County?” She rolled her eyes at the comment.
“Let me put the check to the phone company in the slot, and we’ll head out to the water.”
“Perfect.”
Ten minutes later, they were in their spots.
Somehow, Jorge managed to find two clean beach towels in the towel caddy and draped them over the resin chairs. Oops, another thing Didi needed to tend to. She needed to gather the towels, launder them, and restock them. The list kept getting longer.
“Get that in our mail slot?”
“I did. Yes, the phone should be back in service in a day or two.” She knew most people paid bills on the internet. But she didn’t trust the internet. She mailed the bills in…well, when she remembered.
“Good, good. Now, let’s just relax. We don’t want to miss it.”
“When you’re right, you're right.”
As they settled into their chairs, their friend Henry showed up with wine.
Henry owned the cutest little beach restaurant, the Seashell Shack. He couldn’t make the scene every day, but today was their lucky day. He must have sensed they needed a little something good to end the day.
“What? You don’t need to bring us libations, Henry Hawkins.”
“Yeah? Well, I missed you two yesterday. I thought I’d check on my favorite love birds.”
“Oh, you’re too sweet,” Didi said.
Henry Hawkins was Henry Handsome in her book. He had the look of Timothy Olyphant, Didi’s favorite from that show Deadwood that Jorge liked. Jorge teased her that Henry was her backup plan. Maybe if she was twenty years younger!
Sure, Henry was thoughtful and handsome, but what she loved about Henry—and a few other owners here on this stretch of Haven Beach really—was that he got it. He wanted to hold the line with them.
The small mom-and-pop owners on Haven Beach stuck together because there weren’t many places in Florida left run by mom or pop, or Henry, as the case may be.
Big companies with names like General Capital Group, or Starworth LLC, or Sterling Industries owned most condos or restaurants. She wondered if there were any other places like Sea Turtle. The Florida they grew up in had mostly disappeared, she feared.
“I’m sweet? Flattery will get you a heavy pour of the wine!”
They both raised their glasses, and Henry poured for the three of them.
Henry sat in the sand. He was fit and, in his fifties, he was still young enough to get up and down off the ground. Didi probably could, but Jorge? No way right now.
In about twenty minutes, they’d probably be wishing for long sleeves, but right now, January in Florida, sunset was just warm enough to sit in t-shirts and be comfortable.
Didi let the view do what it did for her soul: calm it, center it. The horizon in front of them made her feel small, or rather, like her everyday worries were small. They were all a part of a great big world, and the phone bill or the laundry were tiny specks of nothing in the scheme of things. She felt the tension leave her body and looked at the sky.
The sun was bright orange, but the sky was pink.
“Oh, it’s a good one,” Jorge said.
Nearly every evening, they did this; sometimes just the two of them, sometimes their fellow Haven Beach residents joined them. When the complex was full, families, newlyweds, and every type of guest did the same.
Every sunset was different here. But each was beautiful.
Didi shifted in her chair. The fact was her worries were stronger than the laundry or a sunset. They weren’t dissolving fully, as they had in past seasons. She loved this life here. But they were in trouble. If they didn’t get some help or get stronger, they wouldn’t be able to keep Sea Turtle going. She needed a solution. Things had to change.
Jorge reached for her hand. He knew she was fretting, even though she hadn’t said a word.
His hand on hers calmed her. That was the important thing. The two of them. Their family.
This would all work out.
“What can possibly be wrong when you’re looking at this view?”
“Amen, Didi, amen,” Henry replied.
She hoped Jorge would be stronger tomorrow. She had to have faith that they’d come up with a solution for all the work that needed to be done here.
Didi had no idea that the Law Firm of Louie Michalak of Michalak, Perne, and Janco had called half a dozen times only to hear the message that their phone wasn’t connected.