Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Maude woke up with the feel of Ollie’s kiss still on her lips. She smiled immediately. But then she thought about Ned and her smile went away. She ought to check on him today. See how he was doing.
She got up, made a quick cup of coffee to put some pep in her step and got herself ready. Cropped drawstring pants, a Van Halen T-shirt, and her Birkenstocks were exactly what she needed. Comfort. Just in case Ned needed her to do some heavy lifting. Or just sit around and have coffee with him.
With that in mind, she drank the cup she’d made, then went straight over to his place. She tapped lightly on Ned’s door, the morning sun already warming the quiet walkways of the Colony. It was going to be another beautiful day.
The door opened a moment later, and Ned peered out, hair mussed, his expression caught somewhere between happy to see her and wounded pride. “Well, if it isn’t my guardian angel.”
“That’s me.” She smiled and gave him a quick once-over.
He was still in his pajamas, the plaid pants and matching shirt giving her Father Knows Best vibes.
But the bruises on his hands and the way he favored one leg told her everything she needed to know.
“How are you feeling? And tell me the truth.”
“Sore,” he admitted. “A few new shades of purple. But alive. And grateful you were there last night. And that doctor friend of yours.”
Before Maude could respond, Cookie trotted into view, nails clicking on tile, her tiny tail wagging like a metronome on double-time. She barked once and then seemed to smile as if she was pleased to announce herself.
Maude crouched and rubbed the Chihuahua’s head. “Morning, troublemaker. You doing all right?”
Cookie responded with a sneeze, which Maude interpreted as a yes. She glanced up at Ned. “Anything I can help you with this morning? I’m free.”
Ned cleared his throat. “I hate to ask, but would you mind taking Cookie out for her morning walk? Just today. I don’t feel my usual self. I’m sure you understand.”
“Of course,” Maude said without hesitation. She pushed to her feet. The last thing Ned needed was another fall. “We could both use the fresh air.”
Ned sagged in relief. “Thank you. She can be a bit spirited.”
“Spirited, I can handle,” Maude assured him. She figured his definition of spirited and hers were probably not the same. After all, she was nearly forty-some years younger than he was.
“I’ll get her leash.”
A few minutes later, Maude and Cookie were off. Ned had given Maude the leash and two poop bags, just in case. Maude hadn’t counted on having to clean up after Cookie, but in for a penny, in for a pound.
Cookie pranced along the sidewalk like she owned every inch of it.
And within moments, Maude started to understand what Ned had meant by spirited.
They weren’t but a few feet down the sidewalk when she lunged after a lizard skittering across the path.
That was followed by an attempt to chase a jogger’s shoelaces.
A few yards down the way, she barked indignantly at a pelican overhead. When that was unsuccessful, she attempted to take a flying leap into a hedge of hibiscus after spotting a bird perched there.
Maude shortened the leash just in time. “You are four pounds of pure chaos, you know that? Holy cow, Cookie. Ned wasn’t lying.”
Cookie blinked innocently, then tried to chew a seashell planter at the end of someone’s walkway.
“Cookie! No. Act like a lady, will you?”
They finally reached the palm-lined curve overlooking the beach road. The breeze picked up, fluttering Cookie’s fur around her little pink harness. For a brief stretch, she walked calmly beside Maude, ears at attention, nose working overtime to catalog the scents of the world.
Maude smiled down at her. “See? We can have dignity.”
Cookie immediately tried to chase a passing golf cart. Maude rolled her eyes and wondered how Ned had survived this long.
By the time they returned to Ned’s door, Cookie’s tiny body was heaving with proud little pants, and Maude had used both poop bags. Ned opened the door and Cookie strutted inside as though she’d been on patrol.
“Mission accomplished,” Maude said. “And you weren’t wrong about her being spirited. She’s a lot of dog for being so small.”
Ned laughed. “I did try to warn you.” He’d changed into trousers and a short-sleeved dress shirt, his hair now neatly combed.
“You did,” Maude admitted. She’d never doubt him again.
“All the same, you’re a saint,” Ned replied. “I owe you a slice of gratitude pie when I can stand long enough to bake one.” He leaned in. “It’s actually apple.”
“That’s dangerously tempting,” she said with a grin. “But for now, just rest. I’ll be over again this afternoon so I can take her out for round two.”
“Thank you.”
As Maude headed home, she felt lighter. She liked helping. She wanted to do more of it. For it to become part of who she was. That gave her an idea.
As soon as she was inside, she made another cup of coffee, then took it out to the porch, where she sat with her phone.
She texted Ollie, even though she knew he’d be busy at the hospital. He’d respond when he could. Good morning. Ned is bruised but in good spirits. I took Cookie for her morning walk. Quite the adventure.
She sent that, then hesitated only a second before adding: Also does the hospital have any kind of volunteer program? I think I want to get more involved. If they need someone. Something tech-related might be nice, but I’m open.
She stared at the message for half a heartbeat. Did she really want to commit herself like that? Yeah, she did. She sent it before she could talk herself out of it.
Maude rested the phone on her leg and stared at the distant water. It felt as if this incident with Ned had tapped a new part of her. Or maybe it was something getting reacquainted with Ollie had awoken. Either way, she wanted to do more. Her phone vibrated sooner than she’d expected.
Ollie had answered. Morning! That’s wonderful to hear about Ned. I’m glad we could help him. As for volunteering, we always need good people. You’d be amazing at it. I can connect you with our Volunteer Services director.
Another message followed almost immediately. And if you want, I can swing by later to check Ned again, just to be safe. Maybe we could discuss volunteering then?
Maude felt her cheeks warm. Was that what Ollie did to her now? Apparently.
She typed back, trying not to sound too eager. That sounds great. Ned would appreciate it. And so would I.
The little dots showed up as Ollie typed again: Perfect. I’ll come by this afternoon.
And thank you, Maudie. The hospital could use more people like you.
Maude pressed the phone to her chest, feeling the words drift through her. The warmth from her face spread into her chest. Cookie had worn her out a bit, but Ollie’s last line had energized her more than the coffee ever could.
She went inside for another cup all the same. While it was brewing, she looked around her tiny home. At the framed photos she’d taken, the plants she rarely killed anymore, Pixel the Betta fish flaring his fins in greeting, and smiled to herself.
Maybe helping people wasn’t just something she did occasionally. Maybe it was something she was ready to do every day.
She took her cup back to the porch and drank it as she watched the Colony continue to come to life. Golf carts zipped by, and more people were out and about despite the breeze off the Gulf warming by the minute. It was good to be part of a community like this.
It grounded her. Reminded her why she chose this change — new friends, new purpose, a fresh chapter she hadn’t realized she’d needed.
Draining her mug, she turned and stepped back inside. Pixel’s bowl bubbled quietly from the corner of the counter, the fish gliding through the water like he was on his way somewhere. Maybe he sensed her energy. “Time to work, buddy,” she told him.
Her laptop waited on her desk. The moment Maude opened it, the familiar rush of focus kicked in. There was a thrill in turning ideas into something beautiful, functional, and real.
She decided to build Blaise’s new website in WordPress. That was something that Blaise, with a few lessons, could update herself. Maude got the sense that Blaise would like that kind of control.
She set up a new account and got to work, hoping to have something to show Blaise when she came by later to do the photoshoot Maude had offered to help with.
Blaise Monroe: Grace, Grit & Glamour, the header read. That was Maude’s working title at least. Blaise would probably argue it was too much. She always seemed to downplay how amazing she was.
But Maude saw what the world needed to see: a woman who’d lived big, loved deeply, and survived what could have broken her. It was a story worth telling. And definitely one worth sharing.
She’d keep the color scheme classic. Black, white, and gray, saving the pops of color for the photos that would be a huge part of this site.
After all, this wasn’t about selling antiques or hand-painted seashells.
This was about Blaise’s future. The next chapter Blaise had only just begun to imagine.
And Maude wanted to give her the best possible launch. She wanted to be a part of helping her new friend find success.
Maude clicked into the bio section, writing something that would highlight the truth: Blaise was a former supermodel with life experience worth listening to.
She was a fighter, a widow learning how to find joy again, someone with insight and humor and countless stories just waiting to be told.
Her quiet beauty was proof that age couldn’t erase what lived in the soul.
She was genuinely an inspiration.
Piece by piece, Maude built the pages and put the site together, forming the bones that would later on get populated with content. Headshots for press use. Event inquiries form. A dedicated tab for memoir updates once the deal Maude knew was going to happen came through.
A new checklist formed in her mind: Add a media kit page. Write a tagline for speaking events. Compile photos from Blaise’s glory days. Add the new photos she and Blaise would soon take.
As it took shape, Maude nodded at what she was creating. This was a bridge to possibility.
Maude took another sip of cooling coffee and felt that familiar spark of purpose — but warmer this time, tinged with pride in her friend.
Outside, the Colony’s palm trees rustled in a gentle breeze.
Inside, Maude added a new line to Blaise’s bio: She’s ready to share her story.
And as she worked, Maude hoped Blaise believed that just as much as she did.