Cara Mia Delgatto and the Protector, Conclusion

Author's Note: Okay, I'm seriously hooked on writing and sharing serialized short stories, but I depend on YOU to give me feedback. So, please comment! To read Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5, scroll down to OLDER POSTS and click on that.


The sight of Jodi, climbing out of a white Mustang convertible, almost made me want to run back into my house. The car looked like it was brand new. In fact, I could see the dealer's sticker in one window.

However, I was determined not to cower in front of her. What could she do? As my Nana used to say, "She can't kill you and she can't eat you." Of course, I supposed it was remotely possible that Jodi would kill me, but that didn't seem likely. No, she enjoyed torturing me too much. In that way, she reminded me of Luther, the tom cat who belonged to my neighbor in St. Louis. Luther enjoyed playing with small critters that he caught. In fact, he rarely ate them, but he did maul them pretty badly.

Keeping my head held high, I walked to my car. I heard her door slam and the brisk sound of her footsteps.

"I talked to Poppy," she said, as she stood blocking my way out of the garage. She's a little taller than I, and because she always wears heels, she usually towers over me. As I watched, she crossed her arms over her chest. Today she was wearing white slacks, an aqua tunic in silk, and big white sunglasses.

"So did I."

"You can't have this place. If you do, I'll take you to court."

"Do what you want."

"I don't think you understand. I will make your life miserable. You think you're going to run off with this piece of property? Just like you took our parents?"

From the house, I heard Jack barking. I sighed, thinking that a bigger dog would be nice, but if that dog was inside the house (like Jack was), he couldn't do much to help me.

Besides, what would I want a big dog to do? Bite my sister? Knock her down? Tear her from limb to limb? Well, yes...but only in my fantasies.

"Look, Jodi," I spoke in a calm voice. "You don't like me. You feel cheated. I get it. I'm tired of trying to make nice to you. If you don't get off this property right now, I'm calling the police."

That seemed like a perfectly reasonable way to solve the problem, except for one hitch: I'd let my phone in my purse in the house. Jodi either guessed what I'd done or she was simply to stubborn to give in. After I delivered my threat, she stood there, smirking at me.

"Jodi, you need to leave and you need to leave now!" I raised my voice. As I did, I heard a noise. The skittering. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw the crab. He was advancing toward me and waving his claw over his head.

Now I'm not scared of crabs, but I'm not stupid either. My toes might look like fat little worms to a hungry crab. Rather than find out whether worms are part of a balanced diet for crabs, I hopped into the driver's seat of my car and right before I shut the door, I yelled, "Crab!"

The next thing I knew, Jodi was screaming at the top of her lungs. As I watched in my rear view mirror, she went flying toward the Mustang. In one hand were the keys. To my amazement, she punched the set over and over. "It's coming after me!" she yelled. "I can't get my door unlocked!"

I opened my car door and watched in fascination as she ran clockwise around her car. One of her shoes fell off. She howled as she ran barefoot over the gravel. The crab seemed to know she was terrified, because he started after her. She was so panicked that she ran a complete circuit. That put her almost on top of the creature. He turned and waved his claw at her. She was sobbing, hobbling over the broken rocks.

The crab came after her.

I grabbed a shovel from the corner of my garage.

"Kill it! Hit it!" she screamed.

Instead, I slipped the blade under the crab and lifted him into the air.

"Leave now or I'll throw him at you," I warned her.

Of course, I wouldn't do any such thing, but she didn't know that. Tears were streaming down her face. Her mascara had run all over her tunic. She jabbed and jabbed at the key fob until we both heard a clicking sound. Without any pretense at being ladylike, Jodi threw herself into the driver's seat. As she fumbled around, starting the car, I backed into my garage. I was still holding the crab aloft, and I didn't want my sister to run over me.

Us.

My protector and me.

~ The End ~

Cara Mia Delgatto and the Protector, Part 5

Author's Note: Okay, I'm seriously hooked on writing and sharing serialized short stories, but I depend on YOU to give me feedback. So, please comment! To read Parts 1, 2, 3, and 4, scroll down to OLDER POSTS and click on that.

On Sunday mornings, I pick up Poppy, and we go to breakfast. Often he chooses Cracker Barrel, but this particular Sunday, he wanted to see what I'd done to the house, so we found a space at Harry and the Natives.

"This here place has been around since I can remember," said my grandfather. "I remember it when they opened, back in 1941. It was a motel. They cut the tidewater pecky cypress locally. The kids pumped gas, the wife served food, and then the turnpike opened, diverting traffic away from US 1. I remember the impact it had on all the local businesses. This one included."

We took a table in the back. I love looking over the Old Florida memorabilia. Signs are hung all over the place, featuring such witticisms as, "If we're closed, just shove the money under the door."

After we placed our orders, I told Poppy about Jodi's visit. It's the type of information that usually causes my grandfather to have a temper tantrum, but I knew he was too hungry to get up and stomp out without eating. Still, he did a lot of grumbling at this coffee mug. "Dag-nabbit. She got no right pestering you. I done already give her money."

"You did?" The words spilled out before I could stop myself. "It's none of my business, Poppy. I told her I was renting, which is true. I just figured I'd give you a heads up, in case she drops by your house to complain."

"She already did."

I gasped so loudly the man at the next table asked, "Are you all right?" I assured our neighbor that I was. "I guess I should have called you sooner."

"Don't matter. I gave her an earful. She don't have no reason to pout. We done our best for her. Your mama was too young. Your daddy wasn't sure he wanted to settle down. I've kept tabs on Jodi since she was given up for adoption. I knew the Wirekas. They were God-fearing, lovely people. They done their best by her. I don't know why or how she got so all-fired grabby. Wanting everything and being jealous of you. But she don't have no call to give me lip. Or you. If she comes back by, report her to the Jupiter Island Department of Public Safety. They'll escort her off the island. And if you want to, you can tell them to have her arrested the minute she sets foot on that property. Or I will. I don't mind doing it one bit. I'm tired of being bullied by that little gal."

Our food arrived. I had ordered the Surfer Girl. Poppy had waffles. We dug in, and I considered the matter closed. I didn't want him to call the police and have Jodi arrested. The more I ate, the more I decided that would be a very, very bad idea. Anything I did to inflame the situation could harm the people I love. Jodi doesn't seem to care who she hurts. That's a big difference between us.

The next week rolled by. We were busy getting the store ready for Mother's Day. Of course, it made me sad because it would be my second Mother's Day without my mother, and my first with Tommy away at school. But I concentrated on getting the shelves of The Treasure Chest full of fun items that any mother would like. One particularly cute gift idea was a wreath made of flip-flops. Skye had seen one on Pinterest. We're always picking up stray flip-flops from the beach, so we added a few cheap pairs to the ones we'd collected, glued on silk flowers, added ribbon, false gems and wow. Totally cute!

I was pretty excited about Mother's Day. I figured we'd do a ton of business, and we did. I was on my feet for eight hours. By the time I parked my Camry in my garage at home, I was nearly dead on my feet. I had a ton of paperwork to finish up before I knew whether we'd hit our sales targets or not. First I carried Jack into the house, then I fed Luna, and I was heading back to my car for the tote bag full of receipts and the detail tape when I heard the gravel crunch in my driveway.

And then I saw Jodi.

~ To Be Continued ~ 

Cara Mia Delgatto and the Protector, Part 4

Author's Note: Okay, I'm seriously hooked on writing and sharing serialized short stories, but I depend on YOU to give me feedback. So, please comment! To read Parts 1, 2, and 3, scroll down to OLDER POSTS and click on that.

"You have to be kidding! What is that woman's problem?" He dipped a coconut shrimp into one of the two sauces. "This is the apricot preserves sauce. The other is a sweet red chili sauce."

"I'm her problem. She can't seem to get over the fact our parents married, had me, and went on to live happy lives. Now she's decided that Poppy is giving me this property, and that she deserves a portion of it. Or money. I think she'd take the money if it was on offer."

Jay chuckled. "But it's not. She's forgetting this is your grandfather's place. He can do what he wants with it. She can stomp around all she wants, but she has no right to it. Neither do you. It's Dick's to do with as he sees fit."

I agreed with him there. Since Jay owns a string of assisted living facilities, he's seen first-hand how families can come apart over inheritances. I've seen that, too, because at The Treasure Chest, we buy up estates. "Only last week I had a woman come in and scream at me, because her sister had sold off part of their mother's belongings. Turns out the screamer lives in Maine. The sister lives here and takes care of their mother. As you might imagine, it's expensive to care for their mom. She needs a walk-in bath unit, so the Florida daughter sold stray pieces of silver and furniture to pay for the renovation. Maine daughter thought she was getting swindled."

"Welcome to Florida," said Jay. "Home of the aged, the infirm, and the shuttled aside. I bet you five bucks that if Maine daughter had to live with Mom for a week, she'd be singing a different tune."

"I'm sure of it."

"But let's go back to the subject at hand, Cara. You need protection. Jodi is one card short of a full deck. I've never met her, but I observed her at the gathering at Martin Gardens. That's a very troubled young woman. I don't like the idea of you being at her mercy."

I chewed my shrimp carefully. Was he suggesting that he move in? Our relationship wasn't there. Not yet. I hadn't even promised to date Jay exclusively. He glanced over and read my thoughts. "You need a big dog, Cara. What's wrong, don't you like big mutts?"

I thought about Sven, the golden retriever I'd put to sleep before coming to Florida. "I love all animals. You should have figured that out by now. But I'm not sure I can stand having my heart broken again, and it about killed me to have him euthanized. Goldens get cancer easily. Rottweilers have problems with hip and elbow dysplasia, plus heart problems. Dobermans have problems with their spines. Labs have dysplasia problems as do Weimaraners. Great Danes die young from flipped stomachs. German Shepherds have a whole host of problems."

Jay shook his head. "Sounds like you've investigated almost all the large breeds."

"I have."

~ To Be Continued ~

Cara Mia Delgatto and the Protector, Part 2

Author's Note: Okay, I'm seriously hooked on writing and sharing serialized short stories, but I depend on YOU to give me feedback. So, please comment! To read Part 1, scroll down to OLDER POSTS and click on that.

"That sounds suspiciously like a threat," said my friend Skye Blue. She twisted a strand of her dishwater blond hair around a finger. Skye was dressed to go across the street and work at Pumpernickel's, a deli. The stark white blouse and black slacks seemed odd on a person who loves gauzy skirts, loose knit tops, and boots.

"It doesn't just sound like a threat," said my other pal, MJ Austin. Today MJ wore a turquoise dress that emphasized her decollete. Matching earrings picked up the color, and a bracelet of the same gave the outfit extra points for style. "It was a threat. Cara, you need to talk to the Jupiter Island police. She can't get away with this."

I shrugged. "That would only encourage her. Jodi would know she's gotten under my skin. Besides, she hasn't done anything. I didn't even let her into the house."

"But you've been working so hard on that place." Honora McAfee is my oldest employee, and a dear nurturing soul. She plucked at her seersucker dress nervously. "What if she decides to splash it with paint. Or take a can of spray paint and write graffiti on the walls. She's done as much to the windows out front."

My friends knew I'd moved in when the cottage was a mess. Our newest hire, Jillian, was working with me to We sat around the small table in the back where we take our breaks. Since I love to cook, I'd baked a batch of biscotti for us to have with our coffee and tea. Bits of almond cookie were floating in my hot drink. "I need to talk with Poppy. If he's giving the property to me, and nothing to her, she's right. It's not fair."

I could see Skye and MJ's jaws drop. Honora even sputtered and said, "That's not true. She's inherited money from her adoptive parents. And her adoptive grandparents. I know that because the Wirekas were friends of friends. From what I've heard, they were rather successful in their own right. Furthermore, they probably had life insurance and savings."

"She can't have it both ways," agreed Skye. "She can't collect whatever the Wirekas left her and also claim whatever your parents and Poppy want you to have, too."

They had a point. "I swear, she gets me so rattled that I don't think straight. Each time she shows up, I feel guilty. Logically, it makes no sense. I had nothing to do with the decisions our parents made. I would do anything I could to welcome her into my life. I've steered clear of Cooper. I've apologized. I didn't even call the police when she vandalized the store."

MJ set down her coffee mug so hard that the brown liquid sloshed over the rim. "That's the problem, Cara. As long as you feel guilty, as you roll over and bare your jugular vein, she's going to come after you. It's like two dogs when they meet. When one of them acts submissive, the other takes the dominant role. You've shown her that you won't fight. She knows she has you cowering. Honestly, what do you expect? Open arms and roses?"

"When are they getting married?" Skye had hopped up to grab a paper towel and sop up the mess in front of MJ. Because Skye works as a waitress, she's fast on her feet like that. "Maybe when they do, and she's Mrs. Cooper Rivers, she'll ease up on you. Right now, she's bound to feel insecure."

I shook my head. "That's part of the problem, I think. I ran into Philomena Humberger at Publix. She told me that Cooper and Jodi's wedding has been postponed again. I guess everyone in town knows he's dragging his feet."

"Oh, my. She's probably blaming you for that," said Honora.

I nodded. "I think so."

~ To Be Continued ~ 

Cara Mia Delgatto and the Protector, Part 1

Author's Note: Okay, I'm serious hooked on writing and sharing serialized short story. This one will be done by Saturday, so I hope you'll stick with me and give me feedback as I go along.

The minute I looked across the crowd and noticed my sister, Jodi, staring at me, I realized she'd make trouble for me. Not then. Not in front of all those people who'd gathered to help landscape Martin Gardens. Not while her fiance Cooper Rivers was looking on. But eventually. She'd find a way to punish me for being involved in a project that brought me in contact with Cooper. She'd make me suffer. That's how she rolls.

My heart hurts a little each time I see her. Only recently have I learned that my parents gave their first child up for adoption. All my life I've wanted a sister. While I was wishing for one, Jodi was planning her revenge on me.

I can understand her anger. Her adoptive parents told her early on that she was adopted. They explained that her biological parents loved her very much, but they were young and not married, so they did what they thought was best for her. Jodi might have accepted that explanation, but she decided to search for her biological parents, and when she did, she discovered that they were happily married, successful, and the parents of a second child, me. Next she tracked down my grandfather, Dick Potter.

Poppy has been coy about the details of his relationship with Jodi. He's provided for her in his will. They've met. But she isn't a part of his life.

I wouldn't have been a part of HER life either, except that I took a road trip and landed on Poppy's doorstep in Stuart, Florida, when my car broke down. And that's how I reconnected with Cooper Rivers, my first boyfriend and Jodi's soon-to-be-husband, only to find that he was engaged to marry--and his intended was my long lost sister.

Sure enough, five days after the big community event at Martin Gardens, I heard a car crunch gravel in my drive. Jack, my rescue Chihuahua, thinks he's a pit bull. Ever since I moved into this tiny cottage on Jupiter Island, Jack's taken on a new personality. He's my protector. When someone arrives, he barks his tiny head off, and he doesn't stop until I go and see what's up. Usually, the sound of tires on the drive signals the arrival of the public works guys, picking up my recycling or my garbage. Since I was folding clothes, I planned to ignore Jack's antics.

But he didn't quit. The vehicle didn't drive off, and soon I heard a tap-tap-tap on my door. I was watching Jack as I opened it, because he's small and has a tendency to get underfoot. Coming face-to-face with Jodi was a surprise, to put it mildly.

"First you steal my parents. Now you steal my property," she said. Her dark eyes flashed with anger. As usual, she was dressed to the nines. On her feet were gold kitten-heel sandals that picked up the highlights in her auburn hair. The dress she'd chosen was A-line embellished with stones and shells around the neck. She looked gorgeous.

By contrast, I wore a pair of my son's cut off jeans and an old tee shirt of  his. I love wearing Tommy's cast-off clothes. They make me feel close to him while he's off at college in Miami.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I said. I didn't unlatch the screen door. I don't trust Jodi. She's unpredictable at the best and malicious at the worst.

"Our grandfather gave you a piece of beachfront property on Jupiter Island, and you have the nerve to act like you didn't notice that I should get half of it? How dumb are you, Cara?" She crossed her arms over her chest and drummed her perfectly painted coral nails on a tanned arm.

I sighed. "He didn't give me this house. I'm renting it from him."

"Right," she said. "You're a liar. Just like our parents were."

"Anything else?" Her accusations made me weary. "Look, Jodi, why don't stop this? We're sisters. I'm not responsible for what our parents did. We live in the same town. Can't we play nicely with each other?"

Her smirk was nasty. "Play nicely? Oh, Cara, darling, I've only begun to play with you. Wait and see. Wait and see."

~ To Be Continued ~

Cara Mia Delgatto and the Bye-Bye Birdie, Part 17

Note: We've had so much fun with serialized stories that I'm trying my hand at one again! Here's the next installment of a new adventure for Cara Mia Delgatto and her friends. To read Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, and 16 scroll to the bottom of the blog where it says OLDER POSTS.

Before he took off, Salazar made one last attempt to save his bacon. "Mr. Boehner, I was only trying to--"

"To squash the human spirit? To make sure that a woman who took initiative was punished for her ingenuity? For her concern for our customers? Or maybe you were trying to set up your nephew in Ms. Morgan's job? Whatever you were trying to do, I'm not interested in you doing it on my dime. Now please leave, Jose. I don't want to have to tell you again." With that, Jay Boehner put a hand on Freddie's shoulder and asked, "Are you ready to get back to fixing that palm tree? We have a lot more to do before the sun goes down."

At five, a food truck showed up. It was white with lettering that announced, "TACOS," and a zesty, colorful image on one side that beckoned our hungry crew. Later I would learn that Boehner had mysteriously located the owner and asked him to come and serve all the volunteers dinner. Mr. Boehner picked up the tag, but we didn't know that until we got ready to pay. The fragrant mixture of cumin, peppers, and onions made my mouth water. The tacos and burritos proved themselves as good as their smell had promised. Greta and Freddie made a drinks run and came back with cold cans of soda, lemonade, and bottles of water.

When the sun finally started sinking around seven-thirty, there wasn't much left to finish. Where once mud stretched on and on, the residents now looked out at a gazebo. In the far right hand corner sat tiny marked rows of a vegetable garden. Fig trees formed a backdrop, as did a few lime, lemon, and orange trees. To the left trickled a water feature that emptied into a shallow basin. If you traced a triangle around the gazebo, you could pinpoint the locations of three huge bird cages. Flight cages, I think they're called. Kookie's cage was snuggled up against the window of Helen's room. Once or twice during the long work day, I saw a pale face rise and stare out at us, as Helen took notice of our efforts. Kookie had been surprisingly quiet throughout the hustle and bustle. Skye went to his cage several times, offering him grapes and tidbits. He took them and promptly dropped them to the floor of his home.

I had to hand it to Cooper, because he'd worked with his landscaping buddies to insure that the majority of the plants were heat, fungus, white fly,and mold resistant. Although a sprinkler system had been installed, most of the plants would be fine without help once they'd put down roots. Cooper had also worked with his people to keep the walkways accessible for those whose mobility was impaired. He'd thoughtfully installed lights along the edges so the space could be enjoyed in the evening.

Our customers had played their part, too. Because Sid had checked with Cooper early on, we'd asked that they bring plants that would flourish such as penta, periwinkles, hibiscus, Mexican heather, and bougainvillea. While I'd given out a healthy number of discount vouchers, I figured that I'd break even because a lot of people were introduced to my store because of our good works. 

James "Jay" Boehner walked up to people, shook their hands, and personally thanked them for their help. He was deep in conversation with Cooper when my employees and I decided we'd had enough for one day. I went to find Greta to tell her we were leaving. She was ready to go home, too. The assistant administrator promised to make sure the grounds were vacated, and all the volunteers were thanked and sent home. Since he'd come in at three, he was still energetic. Greta looked as exhausted as I felt. 

Freddie had proved himself to be a charming young man. He was lavish with his affection for his mother. By the time we were ready to call it a day, he'd worked his backside off--as had we all. "I'm going to drive him back to his residence," said Greta, giving me a hug. "I can't thank you and your friends enough for all you've done. I'd like to have a public open house next month so I can properly honor you and all the volunteers. Will you promise to attend?"

"Of course. But we want you and Freddie to stand over here, please." After I arranged them next to us and grabbed a passer-by, we all posed for a photo. Once the mother and son left, MJ, Skye, Poppy, Sid, Honora, EveLynn, and I posed for a selfie that I planned to add to our website. I was sending the picture to my email account when Greta came trotting back. "I forgot to tell you that Helen seems better. It can't possibly last, but I think her spirits were much cheered by the activity."

While I was grateful to hear the good news, I was so tired I could barely stand up. So I gave Greta another filthy hug. My friends and I fairly wobbled to our cars. 

~ To Be Continued ~

Well, dear hearts. We're almost done. But wait...I know you want to hear what happens next. And I want to know too, so there's ONE more installment. I'm saving it for Mother's Day! Hugs and kisses-- j

Cara Mia Delgatto and the Bye-Bye Birdie, Part 12

Note: We've had so much fun with serialized stories that I'm trying my hand at one again! Here's the next installment of a new adventure for Cara Mia Delgatto and her friends. To read Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, and 11 scroll to the bottom of the blog where it says OLDER POSTS.


Greta was drying her eyes when Poppy wandered in, making his way past the other tables, greeting diners and shaking hands. Since the closing of my grandfather's gas station and bait shop, he's been at loose ends. Normally a workaholic, Poppy doesn't know what to do with himself.

"Granddaughter? Have you made this poor woman cry?"

Trust Poppy to draw attention when I was hoping he'd let a tough situation slide.

Pulling him next to me in the booth, I shushed him. Then Skye and I tried to explain what had happened with Helen Berger and her cockatoo.

"I know Helen," said my grandfather. "Used to bring her car in all the time to have it serviced. Nice woman. How come she can't have that there pet of hers in your facility?"

Greta explained about the health department. Poppy, to my surprise, listened carefully. "But them birds don't need to be kept indoors. So what are you on about?"

All three of us women blinked at each other. Finally, I broke the silence. "Come again? What do you mean, Poppy?"

At that moment, Honora joined us. "I saw Dick walk in. EveLynn just dropped me off, so I hope I'm not intruding?"

Of course, Skye and I had explained to her and MJ why we had come back without the bird. They met Greta as she picked up Kookie's gear. Honora had been quietly emotional when we told her about the reunion between Kookie and Helen. To accommodate our newcomers, Greta scooted over so Honora could sit beside her, while Poppy dragged over a chair. It didn't take long to get them up to speed with an explanation about Mr. Salazar, his threats, and the Health Department.

Poppy took over from there. "Don't none of you remember Parrot Jungle? That place outside of Miami? It was a bird sanctuary, of sorts. You could pay your entrance fee to walk around and look at the birds. Cara, didn't your parents take you there when you was young?"

A vague memory gathered form and substance. "Tiki huts. Coconut thatch roofs. Big cages, A winding sidewalk. Shows. They did shows, didn't they? The handlers brought out the birds so they could do tricks."

"That's right," my grandfather nodded encouragingly. "They done moved that whole shooting match to an island. Now they call it Jungle Island, 'cause it's more than birds. Suppos'd to look like the Everglades. Point being, that bird don't need to be inside. Exceptin' in really bad weather maybe. If you put it right outside her window, Helen could enjoy Kookie and the Health Department cain't say a word about that."

Honora's mouth trembled. "Dick, dear, I don't think you know the full story. There is no landscaping at Martin Gardens. None. For someone to service Kookie's cage--clean it, change his water, and whatnot--they'd have to wade through mud and weeds."

That prompted an explanation of the financial dilemma faced by Mr. Boehner. My grandfather impressed me by listening carefully. As he stroked his chin, Greta rooted around in her purse. "I actually have with me a brochure that illustrates what the finished landscaping would have looked like."

Poppy squinted at the image. "You got the plans?"

"Yes, of course. They're in my desk back at work."

"Shoot-fire. What are we waiting for? Alls we need to do is grab ourselves a half dozen railroad ties, gravel, paving stones and concrete. Then we pour the walkways. Once you got them down, half the battle's won. Seems to me, you're talking about getting through the muck, right? That can be tough when you're using one of them walker do-jobbies."

"Who's going to pay for all this?" I asked.

Poppy leaned back in his seat, crossed his arms over his chest, and glared at me. "Ain't you your father's daughter? Good old Thomas Delgatto wouldn't have set still for this kinda nonsense. He'd a found a way to get it done. Tell you what. There's more'n a handful of people in this town who owe me favors. I'll see what I can round up. You, Granddaughter, need to visit that friend of your'n whose an architect. Dollars to donuts, he's got extra supplies he can write off. Laborers? What about that young man whose been squiring you around town? The project manager? Bet he could spare a warm body or two."

"We could do a fundraiser at the store," said Skye, as her eyes snapped with energy. "Bring in a flower, and you get to draw a discount from a jar. Wouldn't that help?"

Honora nodded. "I can contact all the clubs I belong to. Maybe if each club would buy a shrub--"

"That rhymes," giggled Skye.

Honora nodded, "Then we'd be most of the way along to doing the landscaping."

"Make it so," said my grandfather, winking at me. When my jaw dropped, he added, "Sid introduced me to Jean Luc Piccard. I been missing Star Trek!"

~ To Be Continued ~

Author's Note: Of course, just because our friends have come up with a solution doesn't mean the problem will go away. Not hardly!

Hey, do me a favor? Write a review on Amazon or Goodreads or Barnes and Noble for one of my books! Or hit the "like" button and give my Facebook page a "thumbs up." http://www.fb.com/joannacampbellslan Thanks so much!

Cara Mia Delgatto and the Bye-Bye Birdie, Part 11

Note: We've had so much fun with serialized stories that I'm trying my hand at one again! Here's the next installment of a new adventure for Cara Mia Delgatto and her friends. To read Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10 scroll to the bottom of the blog where it says OLDER POSTS.

"Now what," I said more to myself than to Skye or Greta. All three of us had tears in our eyes while Helen stroked Kookie's crest. Even Libby was sniffling.

Helen pushed herself to a seated position. Kookie rubbed his beak against her face, cooing and talking a mile a minute.

"That's the most animated I've seen her since she moved in," Greta said. She covered her mouth with her hand and stared at the two reunited friends.

Skye nodded. "I don't think I can bear to separate them. Frankly, the vet told us that Kookie won't live much longer if this depression continues. So taking the bird back to the store..."

"Isn't a wise idea." Greta squared her shoulders and inhaled deeply. "Mr. Salazar isn't supposed to visit us again for another two weeks. Libby? What's your feeling about this?"

Libby's dark brown eyes were huge with wonder. "I never been around big birds, but I don't want Miss Helen to have to say goodbye to her pet. Lord above, I thought she was all but, well, she was really poorly. Now she's acting like she's got her will to live back again."

"That bird does make messes," Skye said. "To be fair, I had to tell you."

Greta smiled, a tiny rueful grin. "All our residents make messes. How about this? Leave Kookie here. We'll see how things go."

With that, we made arrangements for her to stop by the store to pick up the perch, the cage, and the bird seed.

**

One week later, Greta called to ask if Skye and I were free for lunch. A hitch in her voice suggested she was upset, so I asked, "Is Helen all right? And Kookie?"

"Both are fine, but we have a problem. I'd rather discuss it with you two in person. Is it at all possible that we meet today?"

Over three salads at Pumpernickel's, Greta reported an unexpected visit from her boss, Mr. Salazar. "To make a long story short, he gave me twenty-four hours to find Kookie a new home. According to him, we're breaking all sorts of health department regulations."

Setting down her fork, Greta sipped water. Her eyes had been downcast since we walked in the door. She's chosen a back booth, a place where we could talk in private. By unspoken agreement, we didn't tackled the main subject until the server, a friend of Skye's, set our bowls in front of us. Now, my appetite deserted me. I couldn't imagine separating Kookie and Helen, and I said as much.

"He's adamant. Even wrote me up and threatened to fire me on the spot." Greta's face was a mask of grief. "I need this job. Even if I didn't, my replacement would be in the same predicament."

Skye toyed with a piece of tomato. "We all knew it couldn't last. Not long. But is Helen better? I don't want to sound rude, but I had the idea she wasn't going to live much longer. I guess I figured she'd be gone by now, and you wouldn't have to cope with this."

"If I'd been a betting woman, I would have laid odds that she would have passed over by now. However, she and Kookie are happy as can be. Of course, there are all sorts of visitors who drop by daily now. Everyone loves the bird. I've promised I'll see about getting other animals, but Mr. Salazar suggested that he was not interested. First there are the health regulations. Then there's the mess. Finally, there are liability issues. I prepped all sorts of articles about the therapeutic value of pets in an assisted living care facility, but he wasn't impressed. I guess if we could find therapy animals with trainers to come and go, he'd be okay with that. But live-in animals? A non-starter."

"Any word on the financing issue?" I pushed my food away. "If that gets taken care of, maybe the landscaping would help. The residents could look out the windows and see something--anything!--that would cheer them up."

"Mr. Salazar told me that it's taking longer than Mr. Boehner had predicted." Greta folded her hands in her lap.

None of us spoke.

Finally, she burst out with, "Look, I like both of you a lot. Let me be really frank, but this has to stay in the room, Mr. Salazar does not like me. He thinks I'm unqualified for my job. He's not interested in keeping me in the loop. He's a numbers guy, and that's what moves the needle on his dial. He's one of those old-school admin people who thinks of residential care as warehousing. Since he couldn't be clearer about that, I have to rethink my future at Martin Gardens. This isn't what I signed up for. This isn't who I am!"

Then the tears started.

~ To Be Continued ~

 

Author's Note: I know you'll want to read this story in its entirety when I'm finished. (And I'm not done yet!) Just so you're aware, I'll bundle it with other Cara Mia short stories and make them available as e-publications.

Cara Mia Delgatto and the Bye-Bye Birdie, Part 10

Note: We've had so much fun with serialized stories that I'm trying my hand at one again! Here's the next installment of a new adventure for Cara Mia Delgatto and her friends. To read Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, and 9 scroll to the bottom of the blog where it says OLDER POSTS.

 

 

Walking along behind Greta, Skye and Kookie attracted a fair amount of attention. The bird seemed to know his friend was nearby, because his pupils flared and contracted repeatedly. Each resident stopped to remark on how beautiful the blue-eyed cockatoo looked. I bit my tongue rather than add, "If you think he's lovely now, you should have seen him before he plucked most of his breast feathers out."

 

"Are you going to have animals here?" Skye asked. "I've read about nursing homes that have cats and fish and other pets. From what I've heard, the residents really enjoy the interaction. Most of them wind up being given light chores, feeding, watering, cleaning cages. It's mentally stimulating."

 

"I sincerely hope we can. Things are rather at sixes and sevens right now. Mr. Boehner and I haven't even met, officially. We Skyped my interview. With the financing problems, he's been incredibly busy. Of course, I've tried to talk to my direct supervisor, Jose Salazar, but he seems reluctant to move forward on my ideas."

 

A tone of her voice suggested that Good Old Jose was more than reluctant. But I had to admire the fact that Greta couched her remarks in a neutral way, rather than out and out complaining about the man. All this conversation came forth in bits and drabs as one elderly person after another waved a greeting to Greta or begged Skye for a closer look at Kookie. As they busied themselves, I had a good chance to examine Martin Gardens with a calculating eye. Again, I found myself impressed. The carpet had been installed so that those using walkers could navigate it easily. At the elevators, there was a clear demarcation between the carpet and the entrance to the doors--a small point, but one I'd learned about from my father. As people age, graduations become harder to discern. The change of texture and color would help keep folks from tripping on their way in or out of the elevator cars. Most of the residents' doors were closed, but a few were open, and from what I could see, the apartments were well-laid out, brightly lit, and smartly constructed. Passing a social room, we paused long enough to watch foursomes playing cards while two ladies took lessons in how to scrapbook. My friend Kiki Lowenstein would have enjoyed participating.

 

Finally we wound our way to the back of the building. Greta knocked briskly at a door marked #125-Berger. A caregiver in pastel pink scrubs festooned with hot pink flowers opened up. "Helen's not doing very well today," she whispered. Her body blocked the entrance. Skye and I stayed back a respectful distance, but I could still see a lump under the bedclothes. An immobile lump, much smaller than the woman I remembered.

 

Greta's brow creased in concern. "I think I have a way to brighten her day. Can we come in, Libby?"

 

The girl frowned. With a quick glance our way, she took in the bird and shook her head before whispering. "I won't stop you, but it's pretty bad. She's, like, not even talking to me. It's, like, she's totally checked out."

 

Before Greta could respond, Kookie shrieked, "Helen? Helen? Kookie loves you! Do you have kisses for me?"

 

With surprising agility, the bird launched himself off of Skye's shoulder. Since his wings are clipped, he managed to just clear Libby before he hit the floor. With an awkward waddle, he ran over to the bed. "Helen? Helen?"

 

Grabbing at the coverlet, he managed to haul himself up the side of the bed.

 

"Eeek," Libby shrieked.

 

Skye and I stood frozen to the spot. I didn't know the parrot could move that fast! In the blink of an eye, Kookie was up, on the bed, and hopping over the prone form.

 

The wad of sheets shifted slightly, and Helen Berger's face rotated so that we could see her profile. I held my breath as she slowly raised one hand. Her voice was little more than a rasp as she said, "Kookie? Kookie, I've missed you!" And then her shaking fingers reached out to stroke the cockatoo's head.

 

~ To Be Continued ~

 

Author's Note: I know you'll want to read this story in its entirety when I'm finished. (And I'm not done yet!) Just so you're aware, I'll bundle it with other Cara Mia short stories and make them available as e-publications.

Cara Mia Delgatto and the Bye-Bye Birdie, Part 9

Note: We've had so much fun with serialized stories that I'm trying my hand at one again! Here's the next installment of a new adventure for Cara Mia Delgatto and her friends. To read Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8 scroll to the bottom of the blog where it says OLDER POSTS.

Greta Morgan's office was nearly as barren as the grounds around Martin Gardens. A metal desk, two folding chairs, and a cheap office chair on rollers shared space with a flimsy metal file cabinet. I could tell the cabinet was inexpensive by the type of handles on the drawers.

The blinds were pulled behind Greta's seat, and an inexpensive desk lamp provided illumination directly to her desktop. "Please, make yourselves comfortable." She picked up the phone and dialed a number. "Lacey? Could you bring me a pot of Constant Comment? Three cups please. Cookies, too. Thanks so much."

I sat there seething with anger. But I was also feeling a little ashamed by my earlier outburst. Skye wore a pleasant but amused smile. Kookie's eyes took in our surroundings. He seemed considerably perked up since our arrival. The bobbing up and down was less apparent, but his keen interest was still obvious.

"Tell me how you know Helen, please. I don't know much at all about her background, and I'd really like to know more," said Greta.

Bit by bit, I explained how Honora had asked me for a favor for her friend. Skye chipped in, talking about how she'd always wanted a big bird. I picked up the narrative, by detailing how Kookie had gone downhill fast. Then Skye volunteered what we'd recently learned from Pete, the vet. She finished with, "We couldn't think of anything else to do, but to bring Kookie here for a visit."

"I see," said Greta, as she gestured to a young woman pushing a metal food cart in the hallway. The server set a silver tray on the desk and, after checking to see that we had everything we needed, promptly departed.

"What are these?" Skye bit into one of the chocolate-covered cookies.

"McVities. They're from England. Aren't they wonderful?" Greta poured tea for all of us.

Yes, they were wonderful, but I wasn't about to give the woman the satisfaction of knowing I liked her treats. To me, this was an elaborate bribe, and nothing more. Even as I pouted, I could sense Greta was sizing me up--and thinking hard. Kookie wanted a nibble of the cookies. Skye offered him a piece, after scraping off the chocolate.

"As you are aware, Helen's condition is terminal. Since coming here, she's shown very little interest in life or her surroundings. And that's a shame. I believe we should live every moment we're given until we draw our last breath."

I started to protest. I wanted to point out that anyone, under any circumstances, would be depressed living here. But Greta waved me into silence. "Please? Just let me speak for a minute, so you've got the background. Then you can share your thoughts. You see, this building was designed and constructed by a company that went out of business just as they were finishing up. The furniture had been ordered. The wall coverings and lights and appliances installed. But then they went belly up. Mr. James Boehner bought the place, but that purchase hadn't been planned for. Wasn't in the budget. He had to cannibalize several other planned expenditures to cover the cost of the structure."

My father was an entrepreneur. I consider myself one, too. As I listened, I started to see exactly where Greta was going. "They didn't have enough money for the landscaping. That's what you're telling us. They got to the plants and ran out of dough."

"You've got it. Exactly. Mr. Boehner has gone back to his funding sources in an attempt to raise more money. I think he'll get it, but there are a lot of hoops to jump through. What you're seeing right now is a partially finished project. And I regret that. We all do. Here..." She stood up. "Let me show you the original plans."

A cardboard tube had been stuffed behind the file cabinet. Pulling it out, she popped off the top and unrolled three sheets of paper, stapled together at one corner. The top page showed an artist's rendering of the landscaping, complete with colors and drawings of plants. I had to admit, the rendition took my breath away. The second page showed the courtyard and surrounds. Although the work seemed a tad ambitious, it was also stunning. Mentally, I tried to put a price to what all this would cost. Thinking back to what I'd paid to landscape around my house in St. Louis, I came up with a figure. It was hefty. Very hefty indeed.

"Now," said Greta, putting her empty cup back on the tray. "As soon as you finish your tea, let's go say hi to Helen."

Cara Mia Delgatto and the Bye-Bye Birdie, Part 8

Note: We've had so much fun with serialized stories that I'm trying my hand at one again! Here's the next installment of a new adventure for Cara Mia Delgatto and her friends. To read Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7 scroll to the bottom of the blog where it says OLDER POSTS.

 

"Notice that it says ENTRANCE rather than WELCOME," Skye snarled.  "Jail was nicer than this. I mean it. We kept the grounds tended and had a garden. This is a crime.

 

Kookie had started bobbing and ducking his head, while making little clicking noises with his beak. At least he was showing signs of life. I found that mildly comforting. The sliding doors opened with a wheezy hiss, revealing an industrial strength floor mat designed to keep you from slipping and sliding even in rainy weather.

 

The inside was actually...nice. The colors were a blue-gray, teal, and bright green. Soothing music played over a sound system. A low nap carpet with a pebble design led us in various directions. Dead ahead sat a white-washed gray reclaimed wood desk attended by a woman dressed in a long skirt with a vivid floral pattern, white blouse, and glasses. Her hair had been pulled back neatly into a cap, a sure sign she belonged to one of the more strict Fundamental Christian sects that make their home in Stuart and Hobe Sound.

 

"Hello. What a lovely bird! May I help you?" Getting gracefully to her feet, the woman extended a hand. "I'm Alyssa Cartwright, the receptionist. Do you have a family member here? Or are you inquiring about availability? How might I be of assistance?"

 

"Um," I intended to answer quickly, but my eyes were drawn to the marvelous shape of the place. It was as if the architect had envisioned a hug, an embrace, because the wings of the building formed a large half-circle around a central courtyard. Broad expanses of glass windows overlooked the outdoors. Those expensive window shades, the kind that allow you to see out but can be darkened, covered the windows, blocking the glare. Rather than respond directly to Alyssa's greeting, I hurried past her, through the clusters of furniture, and right up to the windows. There I pressed my face against the cool glass.

 

A sea of brown mud, decayed palm fronds, and torn up weeds provided the landscaping. Before I could open my mouth to protest, Skye had moved closer to the desk. Once there, she reached for Alyssa's hand and gave it a friendly shake. "We're here to see a friend, Helen Berger. This is her pet, Kookie."

 

"Helen?" Kookie's crest of feathers stood straight up. "Helen? Kookie loves you! Helen? Where is Helen? Hello???"

 

"My!" Alyssa's hand flew to her mouth. "We don't allow pets, but I can certainly see that this is an unusual situation."

 

I hustled back to the desk. "This is NOT an unusual situation. This is a crime! How can you plonk people down in a setting like this? This is ugly. Horrible! If I had to look out on this mud puddle all day long, I'd curl up in a ball and cry. To think that people are paying good money for this...this warehouse! It's a scam and you should be ashamed of yourself!"

 

I was so angry, so filled with indignation that I didn't hear the clip-clap of high heels behind me. A gentle hand touched my elbow. I whirled around and faced a woman wearing an inexpensive but elegant navy suit and a pastel blue button-up blouse. "I'll take it from here, Alyssa. I'm Greta Morgan, the administrator. And you are?"

 

"Cara Mia Delgatto and my friend Skye Blue. That's Kookie. Helen Berger's bird. We came to visit Helen." I stuck my jaw out, hoping to look as determined as I felt. "And I won't leave until we do."

 

Greta Morgan nodded. Her eyes were brown with amber flecks and her hair a dishwater blonde. The laugh lines around her mouth suggested she was well into her fifties, but her classic features would allow her to age gracefully. She studied me as I gave her the once over. As I did, she softened her stance, whether instinctively or to put me at ease, I couldn't tell.

 

"Of course, and so you shall. But first, could I get both of you a cup of tea? In my office? We can chat there. I'd love to hear more about Kookie, and about your involvement with Helen. I was under the impression she has no family."

 

"That doesn't mean no one cares about her," I snapped.

 

Skye nudged me forward. "Sounds wonderful. Lead the way."

 

I was still grumbling, but Alyssa leaned in and whispered, "Greta is wonderful. She'll listen. Honest she will. That woman has the patience of a saint."

 

~ To Be Continued ~

 

Remember, I'm adding new installments every day.

 

If you haven't entered the CONTEST to win three of my most popular scrapbooking books, be sure to do so. Just click here: https://www.facebook.com/JoannaCampbellSlan/app_228910107186452

 

 

Cara Mia Delgatto and the Bye-Bye Birdie, Part 7

Note: We've had so much fun with serialized stories that I'm trying my hand at one again! Here's the next installment of a new adventure for Cara Mia Delgatto and her friends. To read Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6 scroll to the bottom of the blog where it says OLDER POSTS.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" MJ glared at me.

"What?"

"You gave this bird to Skye. You can't suddenly up and decide that you're taking the bird away after telling her Kookie belongs to her."

A slow stain crept up my neck. I turned to my friend and said, "Skye, I apologize. MJ's right. What do you want to do?"

Skye gave a long, low sigh. "I'm not sure what to do, but I don't want to own a dead bird, so maybe it's best that we find a way to reunite Kookie and Helen."

Honora had been curiously silent throughout Pete's exam. Now she patted Skye's arm and said, "You're an old soul, Skye. You've made a brave decision."

With that decided, I thanked Pete and asked for a bill. "MJ's already promised to go with me to a concert at the Kravis Center, so you're paid up."

"MJ, can I impose on you for one more favor? Can you handle the store by yourself while Skye and I take a ride? I can't just put the bird in the car and drive over to the assisted living facility."

"Why not?" MJ raised perfectly plucked eyebrows at me. "Even if you have to get turned away and you have to take him back into the car, at least he might start eating again. Isn't that the goal?"

I bit my lower lip. Having a big bird in the store made me nervous, but the thought of having that same bird in my car while I was driving nearly put me over the edge. I wanted to scream, "But I hate birds!" As I dithered, trying to find the right words, another white feather drifted off of Kookie and fell to the tile directly in front of me. What was it Kiki Lowenstein always said? Time to pull up my big girl panties and do what needed to be done. "All right. Fine. Let's do this."

After I pulled Black Beauty, my Camry, around front, Skye walked out with Kookie on her shoulder. Although I shivered as she climbed in and adjusted her seatbelt, what really bothered me was the churning of my tummy as Kookie climbed off of Skye's shoulder and onto the back of the passenger seat.

"Do you know where this place is?" My voice sounded like a frog's croaking.

"I think so." Skye issued directions, and we were off, winding our way over the railroad tracks, turning south on Dixie Highway, and heading toward Hobe Sound.

A few more turns along the way and we pulled up at a sign, "Martin Gardens: Senior Living Facility." The name brought a smirk to my face. "Evidently the owner played a lot of Monopoly as a kid."

Skye didn't get that. Instead, she pointed to our right. "Look."

As I turned my head, my jaw dropped. Plunked down in the middle of a mud puddle was a residential building, a place that reminded me of a school without one spec of landscaping. Not even a stray weed. I'd never seen such a barren spot in all my life.

"Oh, my gosh," said Skye. "That's plug ugly. It's awful! Can you imagine? What if you lived there and your window opened out on...on that? Yard after yard of ugly, dirty mud? How could they do that? Is it even legal?"

I pointed the nose of the Camry toward the sliding glass doors under a green fabric canopy. As we moved closer, a sign became obvious: ENTRANCE.

"Wow. What a totally cheerless, desolate place," I said.

And to that Kookie let out a loud, angry squawk.


~To Be Continued~Okay, kids! Show me some love! If you are liking this serialized short story, go to my Facebook page and hit "Like" the little blue thumb in a tiny white box under the big picture of me. (My toes point to the right. There are three boxes. "Like" is the second box.) Or tell a friend about the Cara Mia Delgatto Mystery Series. Here are the links:  Tear Down and Die  http://tinyurl.com/TearDD and Kicked to the Curb http://tinyurl.com/KickedTTCurb the blog post and click on OLDER POST.

Cara Mia Delgatto and the Bye-Bye Birdie, Part 6

Note: We've had so much fun with serialized stories that I'm trying my hand at one again! Here's the next installment of a new adventure for Cara Mia Delgatto and her friends. To read Parts 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5 scroll to the bottom of the blog post and click on OLDER POSTS.

 

By the end of the week, Kookie had plucked most of the feathers from his breast. He hadn't eaten any birdseed. He refused the grapes and pieces of fruit that Skye offered him. He rarely spoke except to wail, "Helen? Helen! Kookie loves you!"

 

"I can't stand this." I stared at the perch and the listless creature. "That bird is dying before our eyes. It's tearing my heart out. I feel like I'm letting Helen down and killing her best friend."

 

Skye wiped her eyes. "I know. Getting him was so exciting for me, but now I'm thinking, 'Be careful what you wish for,' because I sure didn't wish to see an animal suffer."

 

The front door opened and Pete Harris stuck his head in. His right hand carried a black leather bag like old-time doctors owned in Westerns.  "Uh, MJ called. Said I needed to make a house call."

 

From the back of the store MJ sashayed out, wearing a seductive grin that made both Skye and me blush. Behind her came Honora, wearing a look of anxious curiosity. 

 

"Thanks for dropping by." MJ planted a peck on the man's cheek. "Here's your patient."

 

Pete turned in the direction of her finger. "Wow. That is...was...a magnificent blue-eyed cockatoo. What on earth have you done to it?"

 

Everyone started talking at once, explaining how Kookie came to be a feathered fixture in our store. While we jabbered like fools, Pete walked over to examine the bird more carefully. "This is Helen Berger's bird, isn't it? Gosh. What a mess."

 

After that we shut up. Pete pulled a few wicked looking instruments out of his black bag.  Peering at Kookie from all angles, he asked, "Is the bird eating? Drinking water?"

 

"N-no," sniffled Skye. "What am I doing wrong?"

 

Pete's smile was kind, as he tucked a stethoscope into the bag. Even though he was balding, he was a nice looking man with soft gray eyes. His clothes looked as if war had been declared in his closet, but that was easily forgiven when you watched how gentle he was with animals. He'd set Jack's leg for me, after the dog's previous owner had chucked him out of a moving truck. Now my pup came and sat down beside Pete's loafers. Jack knew there was a problem. He raised a tiny white paw to tap Pete's ankle as though he were begging the vet to help the bird.

 

"You aren't doing anything wrong. Kookie is mourning. To put it bluntly, this bird has a death wish. He's been separated from the one creature he's loved most in his life."

 

"Isn't there anything we can do?" I felt sick.

 

"No. Oh, I suppose you could take him down to the zoo in West Palm and see if they have a sick room where they can hook him up to liquids. But that's a temporary fix. Kookie would rather be dead. So the minute you brought him back here, he'd do this all over again."

 

That made me angry. I was NOT going to let that bird die. Not on my watch. "Then we have to find a way to reunite Kookie and Helen. That's all there is to it."

 

~ To Be Continued ~

Okay, kids! Show me some love! If you are liking this serialized short story, go to my Facebook page and hit "Like" the little blue thumb in a tiny white box under the big picture of me. (My toes point to the right. There are three boxes. "Like" is the second box.) Or tell a friend about the Cara Mia Delgatto Mystery Series. Here are the links:  Tear Down and Die  http://tinyurl.com/TearDD and Kicked to the Curb http://tinyurl.com/KickedTTCurb

Cara Mia Delgatto and the Bye-Bye Birdie, Part 5

Note: We've had so much fun with serialized stories that I'm trying my hand at one again! Here's the next installment of a new adventure for Cara Mia Delgatto and her friends. To read Parts 1, 2, 3, and 4 scroll to the bottom of the blog post and click on OLDER POST.

Skye was thrilled with Kookie. The minute she came through the front door, she raced over to see the bird, even though she was still wearing her server's uniform from Pumpernickel's. Usually Skye can't wait to get out of the black slacks and white blouse. They are totally not her style.

"Isn't he beautiful?" she gushed. "I didn't realize he'd be a blue-eyed cockatoo. These are really, really rare. An endangered species or close to it."

In response, Kookie eyed her warily. With a bit of coaxing, Skye was able to get the big white bird to step onto her outstretched finger. He stared at her, fluffed his feathers and wailed, "Helen? Kookie loves you!"

"Poor baby." Skye brought him closer for a cuddle, and Kookie allowed her to rub her face against his chest. But he didn't give her a kiss like he'd given Helen.

This love fest went on for half an hour. Finally, Skye let Kookie take his place back on his perch. "I'm going to run upstairs and get him grapes and carrots. He'll love those."

As she raced away, MJ shook her head at me. "I was wrong about what a cockatoo is worth. At least, I was wrong about what this one is worth."

"Not as valuable as you thought, eh?" I chuckled.

"On the contrary. Much more valuable. A bird like Kookie would go for ten grand at least."

I coughed. "Pardon? Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. He's a blue-eyed cockatoo. That ring of bright blue around his eyes? It's a telltale marker. That's the clue I didn't have."

"Wow," I said, channeling my friend Kiki Lowenstein.

"Should I start writing an ad for Kookie? Sid can put him up on Craigslist and some of the other sales sites."

I thought about Skye's reaction. She never asked me for anything. Lately she'd been kind of down because her relationship with Lou, a local detective, had hit a rough patch. "Not right now," I said. Once the excitement of owning a big bird wore off, perhaps she'd be willing to trade the cockatoo for cash.

"Have it your way," said MJ, with a shrug that told me she thought I was absolutely nuts.

A few days went by, and I came to agree with her. Although Skye was totally smitten with the bird, the cockatoo had not settled in. Hour after hour, he cried, "Helen? Kookie loves you!" He fixated on the front door, growing excited each time it opened and despondent when Helen did not magically appear. Worse yet, he had started to pluck out his own feathers. Each morning, I swept up a small pile from the floor around the cage.

"I'm really, really worried about him." Skye started chewing a fingernail.

"I'll call my friend Pete, the vet," said MJ. "But you're going to owe me, Skye, because Pete only wants to be re-paid by going on a date together. If I do this for you, you better come up with something really, really great to make it up to me."

Skye nodded. "I will."

~To Be Continued~

Okay, kids! Show me some love! If you are liking this serialized short story, go to my Facebook page and hit "Like" the little blue thumb in a tiny white box under the big picture of me. (My toes point to the right. There are three boxes. "Like" is the second box.) Or tell a friend about the Cara Mia Delgatto Mystery Series. Here are the links:  Tear Down and Die  http://tinyurl.com/TearDD and Kicked to the Curb http://tinyurl.com/KickedTTCurb

Cara Mia Delgatto and the Bye-Bye Birdie, Part 4

Note: We've had so much fun with serialized stories that I'm trying my hand at one again! Here's the next installment of a new adventure for Cara Mia Delgatto and her friends. To read Parts 1, 2, and 3 scroll to the bottom of the blog post and click on OLDER POST.

Carrying the cage was awkward, but MJ and I managed. By the time we got it situated in the store, near the big display window, Honora had discovered her friend. She and Helen chatted amiably while Kookie looked on.

Next we hauled in the large perch. It looked like wrought iron and felt just as heavy. Admittedly, it was beautiful with a sculpted border on the stand and rich wooden arms. While MJ positioned it, I went back to the Cadillac and grabbed a large bag filled with bird food, treats, and vitamins. After carrying all those accoutrements in, I watched as Helen walked over and encouraged Kookie to step onto one of the arms of the perch. For the first time, I could see that Kookie was actually wearing a harness that clipped to a leash. Since the bird was snowy white, and the harness was too, you really couldn't tell that Kookie was restrained. Helen snapped the leash to the perch.

"Now, dear friend, it's time for us to part," said Helen, stroking the bird's breast. "I love you. I will love you until I go to my grave, and we'll never be parted in spirit. If I could take you with me to the assisted living facility, I would, dear Kookie. Give me one last kiss."

The bird had been watching her curiously, his head tilted as he regarded Helen. At the word "kiss," he leaned toward her and extended his beak to touch her lips lightly. With an almost human sigh, he said, "Helen, Kookie loves you."

A tear dribbled down Helen's face, leaving a wet mark where it journeyed over her skin. "And I love you, Kookie."

Without another word, she turned quickly, in an about-face movement, and walked out of the store.

Despite how I feel about birds, a lump had formed in my throat. Grabbing a tissue from the cash station, I dabbed my eyes. Honora followed suite. MJ swallowed repeatedly.

"I feel so bad for Helen," I managed.

Honora nodded. "She lost Jeb twenty years ago. That's when she adopted Kookie. I thought I'd never see her smile again after her husband died. They were devoted to each other. But she and Kookie formed a bond that's obviously kept Helen going."

Pausing to wipe her eyes, Honora added, "She's been hoping not to go to the assisted living facility, but she needs more and more skilled nursing care, and they have a room that's open. It's that new place not far from Cove Road. If Helen takes residence now, she won't have to move when the...when she...when hospice is called in. She has no family, so it's for the best, really."

Since my own mother died of cancer, I understood what Honora meant. Most likely Helen's last weeks would be grueling. She would need heavy-duty painkillers and around the clock care.

"Is it nice?" asked MJ in a quiet voice. "That facility?"

"I drove past it," said Honora. "I would describe it as bleak. The original developers went bankrupt halfway through the building process. A new company bought it, finished the work, and opened it, but the takeover was costly. There's no landscaping."

"I remember." MJ sighed. "It was supposed to be a state-of-the-art building. A real showplace."

"Yes. Now it's functional, or so I've been told." Honora's hand trembled as she wadded up the tissue. "Growing old in America is a real nightmare."

~ To Be Continued ~

Okay, kids! Show me some love! If you are liking this serialized short story, go to my Facebook page and hit "Like" the little blue thumb in a tiny white box under the big picture of me. (My toes point to the right. There are three boxes. "Like" is the second box.) Or tell a friend about the Cara Mia Delgatto Mystery Series. Here are the links:  Tear Down and Die  http://tinyurl.com/TearDD and Kicked to the Curb http://tinyurl.com/KickedTTCurb

Cara Mia Delgatto and the Bye-Bye Birdie, Part 3

Note: We've had so much fun with serialized stories that I'm trying my hand at one again! Here's the next installment of a new adventure for Cara Mia Delgatto and her friends. To read Parts 1 and 2, scroll to the bottom of the blog post and click on OLDER POSTS.


A few days later, I was arranging a group of tin cans that Skye had turned into beautiful lanterns when a loud squawk scared the dickens out of me. My first thought was that a bird had somehow found its way into the store. But as I turned around, and as another squawk followed the first, I realized this must be a monster-sized avian to make such a loud racket.

Putting down my inventory clipboard, I scurried to the front of the store. There stood a small woman, caving in on herself, barely strong enough to support the magnificent white bird perched on her shoulder. Her skin was that ashy-gray color so common to people suffering from cancer, a symptom I knew all too well.

"Helen? Kookie loves you!" screamed the bird, leaning in to nuzzle the sagging skin on my guest's face.

"And I love you, too, Kookie." The woman lifted a knotted hand to stroke the bird's belly.

This pleased the animal. He ruffled up his feathers, so that he was fully twice his size. Even from a distance, I could see his pupils dilate and contract with interest as he took in his new surroundings. A thin ring of bright blue was around each of his eyes, a lovely contrast to the stark white of his feathers.

"You must be Honora's friend Helen," I said. Usually I would extend my hand for a greeting, but my fear of birds made me jam all my digits into a pocket of my Lilly Pulitzer vintage skirt.

"Yes, dear, I am. Honora told me you agreed to give Kookie a home. His cage and his stand are in my car. Unfortunately, I had to have help loading them up. They're rather heavy. I'm wondering if you'd be so good as to get them out for me?" The voice quivered with sadness, and correspondingly, a lump formed in my throat.

"One second." I turned and walked to the back. "MJ? Could you come out here a minute? I need help."

"What do you need?" MJ seemed a tad bit peeved to be taken away from her work. She'd been busy calling around trying to find a piece of wicker for a customer. But the irked expression softened when she caught sight of Helen and Kookie.

"We need to grab some things from Helen's car."

Although she's shaped like a pinup girl, MJ is pretty strong. After taking the keys from Helen and assuring her that we'd be right back, my friend and I walked outside to where a long, white Cadillac sat pulled up at the curb. The car must have been fifteen years old. Maybe twenty. The inside was pristine, although it smelled a little like funky bird seed. Together MJ and I tackled moving the bird equipment. As we grunted, she said, "That's one beautiful bird. You realize, don't you, that birds like that sell for at least a grand. Maybe even two."

"You're kidding me."

"No. I never joke about money. You should know that by now."

That was true. I cleared my throat as we managed to extricate the cage from the back seat. "So, are you suggesting we sell the bird? After all, Helen told Honora that Kookie needs a new home. That doesn't preclude us from finding him one with a loving family."

"Actually, I think you'd get a lot more mileage out of displaying the bird," said MJ as she started walking backwards with both hands on the bottom of the cage. "Think of it as a living display piece."

"Right," I groused. "One that poops all over my floor."

~To Be Continued~

Cara Mia Delgatto and the Bye-Bye Birdie, Part 1

Note: We've had so much fun with serialized stories that I'm trying my hand at one again! Here's the first installment of a new adventure for Cara Mia Delgatto and her friends. Enjoy!

Summer was coming to Florida. Daylight now extended nearly to my bedtime. The sea grapes had blossomed, scattering tiny white flowers across the grass. Snowbirds, our visitors from the northern states who flee to the South to escape bad weather, had all gone home. With them went their wallets, forcing me to be more and more creative as I tried to think up ways to keep the cash register at The Treasure Chest ringing. Every day, I spent time on Pinterest and Etsy, hoping to conjure up new ideas for turning trash into treasure.

"Cara, dear? Do you have a minute?" Honora tapped me in the shoulder, forcing me to tear myself away from a Pinterest board featuring cool ideas for Cinco de Mayo.

"Of course," I said, pushing back from my desk. "What's up?"

Honora adjusted her glasses and patted the gray bun of hair resting on her collar. Even though the days had grown warmer, she still dressed formally, favoring seersucker shirtwaist dresses with narrow white patent leather belts. "I have a favor to ask. Rather a large one, I'm afraid."

All sorts of ideas flitted through my mind. Did she need to borrow money? Did her daughter EveLynn need a reference for her soft goods business? Did Honora need a few days vacation? However, my father taught me it's better to stay silent than to plunge ahead and stir up trouble.

So I waited.

Honora slipped into the chair facing my workspace. "I have a friend. A very, very dear old friend. Her name is Helen Berger.  Like me, she's facing the twilight of her life. But sadly, her health is also declining. Recently Helen was diagnosed with inoperable cancer."

I swallowed hard. My own mother had died of breast cancer. The months after the diagnosis had been grim, and the last weeks of her life had been ghastly. "I'm so sorry."

"Yes, well..." Honora reached into her pocket and withdrew a linen handkerchief. Slowly, she rubbed her glasses' lenses clean. "She's moving from her apartment into assisted living. A prelude to hospice, really."

I bit my lip rather than charge ahead. Probably Honora was going to ask if I'd buy up Helen's worldly goods. After all, that's how our shop got started. The old owner, Essie Feldman, bought goods from estate sales. I might be interested, but only if the price and merchandise was right. My mind bounced figures around, thinking of what I could budget, when Honora interrupted with...

"And she has a pet that needs a home."

"A pet?" This wasn't at all what I expected, but it wasn't as unusual as I'd predicted. My friend and co-worker Skye had been teasing me that I was running an animal shelter as well as a haven for misfits and second-hand junk. I didn't mind her jokes. Jack, my rescue Chihuahua is my constant companion, often sitting in my lap while I work at the computer. Luna, the gray cat who was given to me when her owner died, likes to sit in our display window and sun herself. She's pretty aloof except at night when she curls up in the crook behind my knees.

"Yes. A bird. A cockatoo."

I frowned, because I'm not really a bird person. In fact, they sort of terrify me.

 

~ To Be Continued Tomorrow ~

Excerpt from Cara Mia Delgatto and the Thanksgiving Gift

Cara Mia Delgatto and the Thanksgiving Gift

Chapter 1

The first day of November

The Treasure Chest in Downtown Stuart, Florida

 

"Another beautiful fall day here in southeast Florida," said MJ Austin, my friend and full-time employee. She poured herself a fresh cup of coffee, the fragrances of vanilla and cinnamon mingled in the air. When I gestured with my empty cup, she poured me a warm-up.

While she had the pot in her hand, MJ cocked her head at Skye's cup. "Want some?"

"No, thanks. I'm drinking Yerba Mate," Skye said.

"Sorry I asked," said MJ. "That stuff is just plain nasty."

They are such a study in contrasts. While Skye's curls tumble down around her shoulders, MJ wears her hair pulled off of her face. They are both gorgeous women, both blonde, and very different from each other. I've been blessed to welcome them into my life. Doubly-blessed that they're my co-workers at the store.

"Granted, Yerba Mate isn't as tasty as coffee, but I like it," said Skye. "It gives me extra energy. I need it when I'm working an extra shift over at Pumpernickel's Deli."

"I hope you aren't racing over to the deli right away," I said. "We need to discuss the upcoming holiday. Specifically, how we can leverage Thanksgiving as a way to boost our sales."

The Treasure Chest is a décor and more shop, specializing in upcycled, recycled, and repurposed items. Most of our items have a sort of beach vibe to them.

There are two stumbling blocks on the road to our success.

One, we need to keep finding ways to turn trash into treasure. I don't have a lot of money to spend with vendors. I also don't have the time to wait for them to check my credit and process my order. That means we have to be come up with our own merchandise—and that takes a lot of creativity.

Two, we need to get people through the door. Once they see what we're offering, they're sure to make a purchase. That purchase will become one of many, if we do our job right.

"My shift doesn't start for another half an hour, so we're cool."

"I'm all ears," said MJ.

"Good. I made up an agenda." From the pocket of my Lilly Pulitzer skirt, I pulled out a list I'd printed neatly on a sheet from a legal pad of paper. "Item #1, thank you for coming."

That set my pals to snickering. We were sitting in the back room of my little store, The Treasure Chest, around a table that had become our natural gathering spot. Even though I'd officially called a meeting, the chances had been high Skye and MJ would have shown up anyway. Skye lives upstairs, on the second floor, in the apartment right next to mine. Effortlessly, our schedules have become synchronized. Most morning, we bump into each other on our way down the stairs.

MJ has a bungalow on the other side of town. I haven't seen it, but my fingers are crossed that one day she'll issue an invitation. She seems to have a sixth sense about when to show up at the store. Even on the days that she isn't scheduled, she often manages to pop in and see what's up.

"Please note that our response to Item #1 was we're happy to attend your meeting. We want this place to succeed almost as much as you do," said MJ.

"I couldn't have said it better." Skye gave MJ a high five.

"Then, let's move right along to Item #2. How are we going to keep this ship afloat over the holidays? Specifically, how are we going to fill our shelves—and what can we offer that's unique for Thanksgiving?"

 

Chapter 2

 

            The expectant faces now turned solemn.

"Unique for Thanksgiving?" Skye parroted my question. "You mean what can we offer that's just for the holiday? A one-time product?"

"Not exactly. I'm thinking we need merchandise that we can point to as being the perfect gift for a Thanksgiving hostess. Or something unique to put on the Thanksgiving table. Otherwise, we don't have anything new to promote. Seems to me that we have to keep changing up what we offer so we keep capturing the buying public's attention. We need to give them a reason to walk through our front door."

Right then, my rescue pup Jack started whining. I opened his crate and cuddled him under one arm. Jack and I met as a man threw the Chihuahua out of a moving truck. The dog has come a long way since then, growing in confidence even as his broken leg healed up. But once in a while, when he hears stress in my voice, he whimpers. I can't blame him.

"You're right," said MJ. "Back when XXX owned The Treasure Chest, she'd put a new display in the window and surround it with pumpkins and Indian corn. It wasn't much, but it always brought more foot traffic. The idea is to lure the customers in. They change the menu over at the deli, don't they?"

Skye nodded. "We're serving pumpkin bread, pumpkin pie, cider, bratwursts, butternut squash casserole, and other seasonal dishes. Cara, you're right. Folks love the new selections at the deli. It's a change of pace, I guess. That's all. But it's enough to give us servers something to brag about. A talking point, is what our boss called it."

"So what do we have to offer?"

Everyone was stumped. MJ played with one of her fake diamond earrings, twirling it around and around in her ear. Skye stared off into space while she rubbed the fabric of her black pants between her thumb and forefinger.

            "Don't everyone chime in at once," I said.

            They didn't.

            The silence went longer than I expected.

"Anyone? Anyone?" I tried channeling Ben Stein as the teacher in Ferris Buehler's Day Off, but I didn't get a response.

"Give us a day to think about it," said MJ. "Rome wasn't built in a day. You're springing this on us, and I need time to process."

She sounded a bit testy, but I knew why. MJ is supposed to be my retail guru, because she's worked in retail her whole life. But this slipped past her. Her lack of diligence disappointed me, and she knew it. In addition to twirling her earrings, she began tapping her toe on the floor impatiently. Like a fox that gets startled by an approaching dog, she wanted to run and hide in her burrow.

"Right," I said, as I folded the paper and put it back into my pocket. "That makes sense. Is twenty-four hours long enough?"

"Sure," said Skye.

"I guess," said MJ.

 

Chapter 3

 

            I needed to change the mood. No way did I want my friends going out and greeting the public with frowns on their faces. "Tell me everybody, what are you doing for Thanksgiving? Any special plans?"

            My voice sounded light and cheery because I felt happy about the upcoming holiday. My son Tommy is down the highway, attending University of Miami. He'd promised to come to Stuart for the weekend break.

            "I like it here, but it's not home," he'd complained. "I miss St. Louis. The leaves, Mom! Remember how cool they were? All the colors?"

            When my friends didn't volunteer their plans, I told them about Tommy's upcoming visit and then I added what he'd said about the leaves.

            "The drive to Kansas City had this dip, and you could see colors like a painter had mixed on his palette. Bittersweet, orange, fiery red, maroon, brown, gold. Tommy and I would make the drive just to get to that spot. It made our hearts sing. The maple in our front yard started turning first. He and I would rake up leaves and jump in them. When we were tired, we'd go inside and drink apple cider." I brushed a tear from my face. The memories cheered me and saddened me. That was my old life. Things had changed. Was it wrong of me to miss the sweet parts even as I enjoyed my new home?

            "We do have trees that change here," said Skye. "Sugar maples, sweet gum, and live oak, to name a few, but most of those are north of here."

            "But nothing changes here! You can't tell one season from another!" I said.

            "That's not true, Cara." Skye's voice was gentle but firm. "There are a lot of seasonal changes. You just don't know what to look for. Not yet at least."

"What would you do back home?" asked MJ. "What would make your son feel less homesick for St. Louis?"

"I always decorated our front yard for the holidays. I'd buy a bale of hay and spread it around in the front yard. I'd add cornstalks. Maybe even a scarecrow. Tommy used to make fun of me for doing it, but maybe it mattered more than I realized."

"What did you do for Thanksgiving day proper?" asked Skye. "I know you had a restaurant. Did you have to work all day?"

"Not always. We had a lottery system. Employees and staff would toss their names in a hat. Dad would draw the slips of paper out in front of everyone so it was totally above board. A couple of holidays, we were able to eat together as a family."

MJ stared at me. Her emotions were unreadable. She's like that. I've never met a woman who can project so much sensuality and then turn so cold and inscrutable. "How did you celebrate when you were all together?"

"Well," I thought back, "our last Thanksgiving, I made dinner for my family. Turkey, stuffing, and all the trimmings. We kept the same menu every year. I've got it in my cell phone. We decided that if everyone couldn't come, we'd have the same meal the next day and pretend it was Thanksgiving as if it didn't happen the day before. Kind of silly, but we loved it."

"The same food every year," repeated Skye.

"Absolutely. The menu never changed. A couple of years, Poppy flew up to join us. He looked at the spread on the table and said how happy he was that we kept with tradition. So I couldn't change the menu, even if I wanted to. See, Dad was in charge of the menu at the restaurant, but at home, Mom used to—" My voice cracked. I choked back tears. I'd been so busy at the store that I'd forgotten that this would be my first Thanksgiving without my parents.

My eyes filled with tears, but through the blurry lens I could see MJ and Skye exchange glances. Skye hopped up from her chair and poured a glass of water. She slid it in front of me with the practiced movement of a woman who'd been waiting tables for years.

"So we'll finally get to meet your son?" MJ sounded pleased. "I bet he's gorgeous."

Skye's voice sparkled with delight as she said, "That will be so nice. I know you've missed him. He'll have tons to tell you about his roommate, his classes, and—"

"His love life," said MJ.

I frowned at her. "My son just turned eighteen. I'm hoping he hasn't had much experience in the love life department."

"And at eighteen, you were…?" MJ's eyes pinned me down.

"Pregnant with him. That's exactly why I hope he's being smarter than I was. Don't get me wrong. I love my kid to pieces, and I'm glad I had him, but eighteen is awfully young to be a parent." I wanted to change the subject, so I asked, "What are you doing for Thanksgiving, MJ?"

"Opening cans of turkey Fancy Feast for all my cats." Her expression was unreadable.

"You can't do that. Come eat with us. Tommy and Poppy and I would love to have you. You can't eat alone at Thanksgiving!"

Some days I worried about MJ. She'd come from a family that didn't believe in celebrating holidays. While she was honest, loyal, and in possession of a kind heart, she could be a bit prickly now and again. I attributed that to her being lonely. The very idea of her being all alone on Thanksgiving—except for the fur babies—made me sick.

"Kidding," she said, almost too quickly. "Just joking around with you, Cara. Actually an old boyfriend invited me to join him at the Biltmore in Coral Gables for their Thanksgiving buffet. It's to die for. Elegant tables with white damask clothes, silver serving dishes, a carving station, Champagne, and music, in a room with dark wood paneling, tropical palms, and Spanish mosaics. I can hardly wait."

Now that sounded more like it. I turned my attention to Skye. "What are your plans?"

Her smile flickered like a bad florescent bulb. On, off, on, off, and on. "I always work Thanksgiving Day at Pumpernickels. The tips are fantastic."

"But when do you eat your Thanksgiving meal? Surely they schedule servers in shifts," I said.

She hesitated. "I usually work a double. But don't worry. The boss sets out turkey and trimmings for the servers. Okay, one year I didn't get any because we were so busy, but usually I load up a plate. I've even been known to take home leftovers."

She rubbed her tummy appreciatively.

"What time do you get off?" I asked. "We can adjust the time of our meal so you can join us."

"That's very kind of you, but no, please don't," she said, shaking her head. "I actually prefer eating with the other servers. It's a sort of bonding experience. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Right. My gut told me that both my friends were lying.

 

< > < > < >

 

Are Cara Mia's friends telling the truth about how they'll spend Thanksgiving? Will the holidays of Cara's remembrance over-shadow the present day? Or will Cara adjust to her new home and make this Thanksgiving a day of thanks?

 

Read more at http://tinyurl.com/CMDThanksGift

Or go to

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00PSJ6QTC/ref=s9_simh_gw_p351_d4_i3?pf_rd_m=ATVPDKIKX0DER&pf_rd_s=desktop-1&pf_rd_r=03WXFMQDTYDHWC92C6DV&pf_rd_t=36701&pf_rd_p=1970559082&pf_rd_i=desktop

 

This short story includes four recipes for Thanksgiving!