Chapter 3
Bree
At the end of my shift at the retirement community, I go into the employee fridge and pull out the bottle of wine I’ve had chilling all day.
I’ve been working here for over a week, and I’m settling into the routine of the job nicely.
I adore all of my patients, especially Joyce, and Lauren is always there to lend a helping hand.
There’s nothing that happens here that she doesn’t know about.
When she invited me to hang out with her after work, I was a little surprised to discover that she actually lives at the retirement community, despite the fact that she’s in her early twenties. I didn’t say anything or ask any questions though I am curious.
I knock on the door and hold up the wine bottle when she swings it open. Her face lights up when she sees the wine. She gives a small chuckle. “That’s perfect.”
She’s dressed in one of her vintage outfits again today, but she has a little bit of ink on her cheek. I don’t have time to point this out because she steps into her room and gestures me inside.
Her room is set up like many of the residence rooms with a large living space that flows into a kitchenette.
I know if I went beyond the kitchen, there would be a bathroom and bedroom like most of the other residents have.
Her walls are decorated with vintage photos of a life from the 50s and 60s.
Fresh flowers adorn the space, and there’s the smell of pizza coming from the oven.
She gives me an apologetic look over her shoulder as she checks the pizza in the oven. “We don’t have delivery here. We’re too far out, so frozen is the best I can do.”
“It works for me,” I say to her. “Where are your glasses?”
She points to a bright curio cabinet painted a sunshine yellow color. I open it and take out two beautiful flutes, pour the wine into the crystal, and pass her one.
She cuts the pizza and we settle on the couch with our pizza and wine. On her coffee table, I can see a variety of art supplies.
“Your apartment is so cozy,” I tell her.
She gives me a soft grin. “Thank you. I’ve tried really hard to put my own stamp on the place. It’s one of the things that I love about my aunt. She encourages all the residents to make the rooms their own.”
I frown and think of the director with her colorful office filled with the fuchsia beanbag and lime green chairs and white shag rug. I’ve never met someone so vibrant and full of life.
“Wait,” I say, “is Elaine, the director, your aunt?”
Lauren swallows a bite of pizza. “Yeah, she is. My mom had some problems, and she couldn’t take care of me and my brother. She dropped us off here when we were young, and my aunt Elaine took us in despite the fact that she was also busy running the retirement center.”
“Wow,” I say, “so you have lived at the center your whole life?”
“I know it sounds kind of crazy, but I loved it. I went to school and played in the marching band and took part in extracurricular activities. The only thing different was my aunt was my mom, and I have a bazillion people that I consider my grandparents.”
I can’t help thinking of my cold parents and the way they would rather not see me. I take a small sip of my wine. “That actually sounds kind of wonderful.”
Lauren pulls the pepperoni off of her pizza and pops it into her mouth.
“It was amazing. I know that most people would feel like they missed out by having their mom abandon them, but I never did. Elaine stepped right into the role and because of her, my brother and I didn’t go into foster care. She’s kind of my hero.”
“She’s definitely amazing,” I agree.
When I see that Lauren has taken the last sip of her wine, I stand and go to the kitchen to grab the bottle again. Lauren follows behind me with our dishes and puts them in the sink. I pause in front of her kitchen window.
“Wow,” I mutter as I stare out at Dalton and another bearded man.
They’re both so big. They’re working together to haul away some large branches.
I heard from the residents that a tree fell on the grounds during the last storm.
But there’s something about watching Dalton lifting the heavy wood that has my stomach fluttering.
He’s not even breaking a sweat as he carries them effortlessly.
“It’s quite the view, isn’t it?” Lauren laughs softly when she catches me staring.
I hesitate and wonder if this is why she really wanted to hang out after work. Did she want me to know that Dalton is taken? Is she in love with him? She’s probably known him her whole life. They might even be a couple for all I know.
Lauren sighs. “He’s never noticed me. Or at least if he has, he’s never made a move.”
“Maybe Dalton just needs a nudge in the right direction,” I tell her around the lump in my throat. He’s so cute, and I could have sworn he’s been flirting with me. But maybe I’ve been misreading the signs all this time. Maybe I only saw what I wanted to see with him. Just like last time.
“No, not him. The cute one, Bronco.” She says his name like it’s the most romantic word in the world. “He’s my brother’s best friend, and he feels some sort of stupid loyalty to him.”
I don’t know anything about having a sibling or how families are supposed to work.
I only have experience with my parents and their loveless union.
They didn’t really want me. They only had me because it was what all of their friends were doing.
My mom told me once that if she’d known how much work I’d be, she never would have had children.
So yeah, I guess you could say our relationship is a little strained.
Still, maybe things are different between Lauren and her brother, so I suggest gently, “Maybe you should talk with your brother. Maybe you could help him see that Bronco is holding back because he wants his blessing.”
She rinses the plates in the sink. Her motions with the sponge, jerky and uneven as if she’s furious with the dishes.
“Vale is dead. He went missing in action three years ago. You’re supposed to always hold out hope, but I know my brother.
If he had a way to contact me, he would have by now.
He’s gone. I just can’t stand using the past tense when I’m talking about him.
Vale is my brother. The fact that he’s dead doesn’t change that. No one really gets that though.”
She pauses with the sponge, shoulders slumping.
“Bronco is all I have left of him now. They became best friends in the military, and they had plans. They were going to buy a local farm together when he went missing on a mission. Bronco got discharged not long after that and bought land here. I think some part of him believes he’s keeping my brother’s memory alive by running that ranch. ”
I put my hand on her shoulder and give it a gentle squeeze. “I’m really sorry.”
She finishes washing the plates in silence then heads back to the couch. “I stay busy. It helps, you know.” She taps the coffee table. “This is my weekly project. I make letters for all of the residents.”
“What do the letters say?” I ask, thinking of the rows of mailboxes in the post room.
“They’re just little encouraging notes. I noticed one day that a lot of the residents at the center don’t get mail. I can’t fix everything wrong in the world, but maybe I can help make some of them feel loved by putting sweet notes and letters in their mail so everyone gets something each week.”
“That’s a cool idea,” I say, settling back on the other end of the couch. “Can I help?”
“I’d love some help,” she says. “I don’t really have themes or anything. I just do whatever I want.”
For the next two hours, Lauren and I work together on making cards and notes for the residents.
While we do it, we sip wine, play girl power songs from the 90s, and sneak glimpses of Dalton and Bronco through her windows.
It’s exactly the sort of girl bonding that lifts your spirits and makes you feel seen and understood.
When we’re done, we take our letters down to the mail room and sort them into cubbies.
As we work, I hear the soft click of the door.
The retirement center is quiet at this time of day.
There’s only a few sounds like the low hum of TVs and radios, the shuffle of boots against carpet as Ryan does his rounds for the night.
He’s checking in on residents to make sure they’re safe and cozy.
Through the thin walls, I hear Elaine chatting softly on the phone with her boyfriend. Lauren tells me she’s been dating a man she met online for a few months now, and they seem completely in love. He’s planning to fly out and see her soon.
After hearing Lauren tell me about how Elaine raised her and Vale, it makes me admire the retirement home director even more.
Not only is she a fierce advocate who loves these residents and fights hard to make sure they have beautiful, fulfilling lives here, she also raised two kids that weren’t even hers when they were dropped on her doorstep.
According to Lauren, she never made them feel like burdens.
Instead, she welcomed them with open arms and showered them both with love.
There’s the soft murmur of masculine voices down the hall, but I don’t pay it any attention as I continue sorting the mail into cubbies. There are dozens of letters, and it’s getting late. I still have to drive home tonight.
I put the last letter away and turn to Lauren.
“I’d love to get mail like this,” I say softly. “It would make me feel special.”
I don’t tell her that I spent years at boarding school never hearing from my parents and watching other girls get care packages, letters, and notes from home. It wasn’t lost on me even back then that no one missed me.
“Hey.” Lauren steps forward and nudges my shoulder with hers. “You okay?”
I blink away the sheen of moisture in my eyes and nod. “Yeah, it’s just been a long couple of weeks.”
“Settling into a new town and a new place is hard,” she agrees. “Let’s get some sleep. Things will look better in the morning.”
It turns out that Lauren was right. Things do look better the next morning.
I eat a quick breakfast of cereal from Lauren’s cabinet.
She offers to let me borrow one of her vintage dresses, but I put on a pair of scrubs.
I’m doing rounds today, and I’d rather not be worried about soiling a pretty outfit of hers.
“I’m insanely jealous of your commute,” I tell her as I walk down the hall with her.
She chuckles. “It is one of the perks. I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.”
She heads to her desk in the reception area while I go to my office area to check in and begin my work for the day. On my desk, there is a brown envelope with a wax seal. The envelope has my name scrawled on it.
My first thought is that Lauren left me a letter. I settle at my desk, unable to keep the smile from my lips. But when I open the message, it’s instantly obvious that Lauren didn’t write it.
Dear Bree,
My first thought when I woke up this morning was you. It’s your smile that gets me. It’s like sunshine, warming me up and making me want to bask in its light.
I’m jealous when you give it to other people. I want to be the one who earns all of your smiles, who gets to hear about your hopes and dreams, who listens to all the stories about your day.
I saw the wistful expression cross your face when you were putting mail in the cubbies last night. It made me think that maybe no one has ever taken the time to send you a letter, to tell you that you matter. If that’s true, I want to be the first.
You make my world brighter just by existing. It’s more than your easy smile or your laugh—though I love that sound. It’s my new favorite soundtrack, and I find myself wishing I could play it on repeat when I’m alone and you’re not here.
When we’re apart, I’m counting down the minutes until I see you again. Yeah, I know it’s corny, but it’s true. The evenings without you are endless. I want to wrap my arms around you and hold you all night long.
You deserve that. You deserve someone that holds you through the night and makes you feel like the most cherished woman in the world. You deserve to be loved and treasured today, every day, and for the rest of time.
I wish the man doing that could be me. But since it can’t be, I’m writing this letter. I don’t want anything from you. I’m not expecting a response. I just wanted you to know how beautiful and special you are.
Forever yours,
Your secret admirer
After I finish reading the letter, I can’t help running my fingers across the page, tracing the lines, and wondering who sent it. Who would have taken the time to write me such a sweet, romantic note?