9
Jia scanned the shelves looking for everything she’d need for the soiree this afternoon.
They were having a happy hour at three o’clock.
Honestly, as many late nights as she’d had in New York, there was something about how everything happened earlier out here
that made her feel so relaxed. Sure, why not a happy hour at three? Then they could have dinner by five. Grandma would be
in her pajamas by six, and Jia would face her favorite time of day, seven o’clock, just as the desert sun started to set over
the mountains. The entire neighborhood tucked in, and it was just her outside staring at the sky as it changed colors from
day to night.
She grabbed the bottle she was looking for, and a second one just in case.
“Malibu rum. Now I know you’re definitely here on vacation,” the deep voice said behind her.
She turned around to find the very handsome guy from the airport baggage claim, Matthew, there at the small grocery store.
Jia realized she was wearing her grandma’s cotton rose-patterned pants that were about six inches too short and a white polo
shirt. Maybe she’d been around Mimi and her friends a little too much lately, because this morning in the mirror she’d convinced
herself that the outfit was desert chic. Seeing herself through Matthew’s eyes, she likely looked like someone planning a
retirement party who borrowed an outfit from her grandmother’s closet. Which was exactly what she had done.
She really did need to get to the airport and pick up her luggage with her own clothes. The airline had called yesterday afternoon
letting her know that they’d found her suitcase and she could either have it delivered to her address or come and pick it
up. She told them she was in no rush. Apparently that was very true, since she had no issues borrowing another outfit from
Mimi today. It was almost like a game she played while she was here in Palm Springs. What could she put together from the
treasure chest of clothing that was her grandmother’s wardrobe?
This was very unlike Jia. In New York, she took fashion very seriously. But since she’d been in Palm Springs, it didn’t seem
to matter as much. It wasn’t a priority.
“Happy hour at The Sunset. You’re welcome to join,” she said.
“Sounds like a good time.” His smile widened, and Jia’s heart rate sped up. Man, he had a very good smile.
“Oh, it will be. The old-timers know how to party,” she said. This time she gave him a sexy little smile herself. She’d have
to use every weapon in her arsenal if she was going to get his attention while dressed like a Golden Girl.
He laughed. “I bet.”
Jia had heard rumors and urban legends about what happened behind the gates of some of these senior living communities. Sunset
Hills wasn’t one of those party places, however, where swingers supposedly resided and STDs ran rampant.
Still, it was one of the most fun places she’d ever visited. Jia had very quickly made herself right at home. She was embraced
by the surly older residents, and she loved them right back. They were fascinating and told the best stories. They never seemed
to judge her like people her own age did. Or look at her with disappointment like her parents did. And, after seeing how eager
they were to have a good time, Jia basically inserted herself as the event planner to the stars, the stars being the old folks
who wanted to live life to the fullest for as long as they could.
“I didn’t get to ask at the airport, but what brings you here to Palm Springs during the off-season?” she asked.
“I actually live and work here part-time. The other half in LA. But I tend to be up here for weeks, months on end if necessary.”
“And what makes it necessary?” she asked, genuinely curious. If someone their age could make a living here, she wanted to
know. It felt like a tempting possibility.
“I’d say, the number of happy hours with Malibu and pineapple.” He nodded to the bottle in Jia’s hand and the other one in
her basket.
He really was cute, and the banter was not bad. Maybe Jia could have some fun while she was out here. She couldn’t tell if
he was interested or not. But she had a happy hour to get to, so she didn’t have the time or energy to figure it out now.
“I gotta get going,” she said. “Don’t want to make the party crowd wait.”
“Hope I’ll be seeing you around again?” he said.
“It’s a small town,” she said. “I’m sure you will.”
“The Malibu and pineapple drink station is all set up. Louise is on the blender for the frosé. And the cooler is stocked with
White Claws and water. How’s it going in here?” Jia asked her grandmother and the small army she’d amassed to come help set
up for the happy hour.
It’s like the residents had been starving for a reason to get together. And all they needed was someone to say Let’s do it. Jia was happy to be that person. To be honest, Jia’s social life felt fuller and richer here among the septua- and octogenarians
of Sunset Hills than it had living in New York among people her own age. More meaningful, at least. And she had fewer hours
in the wakened day to work with here, so she made them count.
“Pigs in a blanket, check. Chips and guacamole, check. And Chester is bringing his world-famous charcuterie board. That just
leaves the gimbap I’m gonna make, and we’re all good to go.” Her grandmother looked up at her with a smile.
“Amazing. It’s shaping up to be quite a shindig,” Jia said.
“Thanks to you. You’re really good at this, ya know?” Mimi leaned back into Jia, and Jia placed a kiss on her cheek. She had
no skills that made her employable. But a happy hour she could do.
“If only pigs in a blanket looked as impressive on a résumé as they do on this platter,” Jia said. She tried not to get discouraged.
But it had been a couple weeks with tons of applications filled out and résumés sent into the world. And not one response,
not even a rejection.
“Don’t stress over your work situation, hon. We’re here for a party. The rest can wait.” Mimi’s words comforted her. She was
right. Nothing was going to get solved tonight anyways.
Jia watched as Mimi laid all the ingredients for rolling gimbap out on the limited countertop space.
The kitchen was wide enough, but the layout was so outdated.
Mimi enjoyed cooking so much she deserved a better workspace.
“Hey, Mimi, what would you think of doing a little renovation of your kitchen? Maybe some fresh cabinet doors? Move this table here and put an island in the middle? You’ve always wanted an island, right? ”
“I have. I even have some money put aside to do work on the house. But it’s been sitting there for decades. Your dad doesn’t
want me to fix it up lest the value go underwater.”
Jia didn’t know what that even meant. But if Mimi wanted an island, and she had some money to get one, why not? “We just won’t
tell him. When was the last time he came out here anyways? They’re always making us come to Florida for holidays. What if
I called around and got some quotes?” Jia offered.
A huge smile spread across Mimi’s face. “I like the way you think, kid.”
Jia’s heart warmed knowing she was going to help Mimi do something that would make her happy.
“We haven’t done one of these welcome parties in a long time. This is a hoot,” Louise called out over the blender. “Great
idea, Jia.”
“Why haven’t we done one of these in so long?” Betty asked as she stirred together her pasta salad.
“’Cause we’re old and tired,” Gertie said from the sink where she washed and peeled the potatoes. “Thank goodness for Jia.”
“You guys are the ones doing all the work. You really know how to roll out the welcome wagon,” Jia noted.
“Yeah, we used to never let a new resident move in without a get-to-know-you celebration. We loved making sure people felt good about their new home here,” Mimi said.
“Change can be so scary, unsettling. It’s important to take some of that away from new residents.
I guess we forgot that for little while.
Glad you’re here to remind us, Jia girl. ”
“You sound a little like a cult leader, Grandma,” Jia teased.
“Well, you know what we say around here at The Sunset. Once you arrive, you never leave—”
“Unless you’re dead,” Louise called out from the other side of the kitchen.
“Yeah, that’s morbid,” Jia replied as the two older ladies laughed at their joke.
“Yoo-hoo, anybody home?” a new voice called out from the open doorway.
“Come in, come in! What did you bring?” Grandma asked the new arrival.
Jia turned around and saw Sally Mae Jackson enter, the smell of her promised mac ’n’ cheese filling the space. She’d met her
during one of the morning walks, and it was all anyone would talk about. “Ms. Sally Mae, let me grab that from you,” Jia said
as she took the foil serving tray from the rolling desk chair she’d apparently used to bring the food from her house to theirs.
“Careful with that, hon. It’s hot. And I also brought some deviled eggs. Those are never as popular among the oldies here
at The Sunset as they were back at my home neighborhood, but I’m gonna win people over eventually,” she said. Sally Mae had
originally lived in a senior community in the south, the east south, not the west south like they were in now. She liked to
talk about it as home so she could pretend this place in Palm Springs was her vacation villa. Jia appreciated the approach.
“You really pulled out all the stops to welcome the new guy,” her grandmother commented.
“Well, if he’s a looker, I gotta get a jump start on winning his heart,” Sally Mae replied.
Jia smiled. She was gathering priceless life advice during her time here.
“Hello? May we come in?”
“Dennis, you’re here! Everyone, the guest of honor is here!” No one would ever accuse Jia’s grandmother of lacking enthusiasm.
“And as your designated New Neighbor Buddy, let me officially say Welcome home!” Everyone clapped.
Jia looked to see the guest of honor in the doorway. He was a slightly hunched older gentleman, his face lined with a map
of many generously given smiles. Handsome in the way old men were when they’d obviously lived a life of warmhearted kindness.
Jia wanted to hug him. So she did.
He let out a hearty chuckle as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and patted her back.
“Welcome, Dennis,” Jia said, delighted.
“Well, thank you, sweetheart. Mimi has already told me so much about you, as have the others. I’ve already got my sights set
on the new aqua aerobics class you’re starting and—” he leaned in to whisper “—the Spicy Book Club.” He laughed heartily,
and Jia smiled. She wanted to keep him forever.
“That’s amazing. Those are two great choices,” Jia said, feeling proud.
Dennis stepped to the side and coming up the walkway behind him, dragging a walker, was the man from the office the other
day. “Just leave that there, son,” Dennis told him.
He left the walker off to the side of the porch and stepped up to the front door, looking uncertain if he should come in.
Jia still couldn’t believe her one-night stand from New York was here in Palm Springs.
She’d felt guilty about the way she’d treated him the other day.
She’d just been so caught off guard when he mentioned the HOA bylaws and restrictions for underage guests.
Honestly, it scared her a little that someone might notice she wasn’t supposed to be here and tell her to leave.
She wasn’t ready to get kicked out just yet.
But she shouldn’t have taken it out on him.
“Hi, welcome,” she greeted him warmly. She leaned in to give him a hug, and his back stiffened immediately. Oh shit. Was a
hug not appropriate in this situation? They technically didn’t even know each other, even though they did know each other, biblically.
This was all very weird. And by the grimace on his face, he thought so too.
“This here is my grandson, Hank,” Dennis said.
Hank. His name was Hank. Huh. He didn’t strike her as a Hank. Hank was more of a dog’s name.
Jia brought herself back from her thoughts to see all eyes on her. Oh shit . . . Did she say that out loud? “It’s just that
here at Sunset Hills alone, there’s Mitzi’s shih tzu, Gerald’s yellow Lab, and, of course, Mr. Burgess’s bulldog with incontinence—all
named Hank,” Jia said.
“Henry,” he said, sharply. “It’s Henry. Only my granddad calls me Hank.”
“Oh, okay. Yeah, you seem way more like a Henry than a Hank,” she noted.
“Nice to meet you, Henry,” Mimi said. “This is my beautiful and talented and smart granddaughter—”
“Gladys. Yes, we’ve met,” he said.
Mimi’s brows raised. Dennis laughed. And Jia . . . she blushed. In her stress yesterday, she’d forgotten to point out Henry’s
error. “About that. Um, I think there was a misunderstanding, and I didn’t get a chance to clarify. My name isn’t Gladys.”
“Well, this is all very confusing,” Mimi said. “Let’s start over, shall we? Let me introduce you two properly, especially since we’re all neighbors now.” She grabbed Jia by the shoulders and pushed her so she was face-to-face with Henry.
“Henry Shin, this is Jia Chung. Jia Chung, meet Henry Shin.”
The two of them stared at each other, recognition forming, yet not moving as they processed what they’d just heard. “My grandson
here is a fancy lawyer at the Baking Group, some financial company in the Big Apple. We’re very proud of him,” Dennis said,
looking at Henry, beaming.
“Bakerson’s Group,” Henry corrected him, not taking his eyes off Jia.
Jia’s heart began to race as the familiar words from her recent past invaded her head. The safe bubble she’d been hiding under
to protect herself here at The Sunset had been cracked . . . with a sledgehammer.
“Henry Shin from the Bakerson’s Group,” she said. It wasn’t a question. It was a confirmation.
“Yes, that’s it. That’s the one. Jia, do you know of it?” Dennis asked.
“The Bakerson’s Group? Jia? That sounds like the company that—” Mimi stopped herself, realizing she might be oversharing.
Jia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. All the pieces of a puzzle were fitting together she didn’t know she was working
on.
Clinks of glasses filled with scotch. Heated kisses in an elevator. Frantic hands taking off clothing. Lips and tongues on
the most private body parts. A formal, straight up-and-down signature on termination paperwork delivered by courier.
Jia’s jaw dropped when she’d connected all the dots.
Holy shit.
This was Henry J. Shin, Esq.