Cara Mia Delgatto and the Bye-Bye Birdie, Epilogue

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, 16, 17, and 18 scroll to the bottom of the blog where it says OLDER POSTS.

A month after the community had pulled together to landscape Martin Gardens, I received an invitation in the mail to come to a special dedication ceremony. Skye, MJ, Honora, EveLynn, Poppy, and Sid told me they'd gotten similar notes. And so, on a Sunday afternoon, we gathered in the atrium of Martin Gardens. As I looked around, I saw many faces I recognized from our long day of work. Cooper Rivers came over and pecked me on the cheek, despite the dirty look from my sister, Jodi. Detective Lou Murray was there with his big boss, the Chief of Police, Aaron Reiss. Promptly at two, Greta approached the microphone.

"Words cannot express how much you've done for all our residents. As you'll see, the grounds are fantastic, and in a minute, I'll invite you to stroll outside and enjoy them. But first, I want to introduce a man I'm very proud of, my son Freddie," and with that, she stepped away from the podium.

Freddy looked fantastic in his blue tie and navy suit. Although sometimes it was hard to understand him, he spoke with a great deal of confidence. "My mom has always told me that love is the most important super-power any hero can have. She is my super-hero, so I believe that must be true. When I come to visit her here, I see other people who are struggling. I struggle sometimes. But when we struggle with friends, all of us do better than when we are alone. The day we worked outside I made a new friend, James Boehner."

As Freddy gave the CEO a hug, the crowd began to clap, but Jay used his hands to signal for quiet. "I was younger than Freddy when my grandmother came to live with us. My father's mother had always been an active woman who enjoyed playing canasta, going to church, singing in the choir, and knitting. But after she took a tumble, it was decided that she shouldn't live alone. My two sisters and I did all we could to make Mimi welcome, but she was angry and bitter. Mostly she took it out on my mother, in secret ways so that my father didn't know. Mimi also sowed the seeds of distrust between my parents. In two short years, she managed to turn our happy home upside down. My sisters and I no longer felt comfortable bringing home our friends. My mother and father quarreled bitterly. Mimi complained of various ailments. Looking back, I can see how frustrated she was with all she'd lost, but at the time, all I could do was watch my parents' marriage dissolve. I vowed that one day I would find a place where people like Mimi could live and enjoy their lives once more. That's how I came to start the Boehner Group."

By now, most people's mouths were open, as I know mine was. I never expected to hear anything so personal or so heartfelt. Skye reached over and grabbed my hand. I grabbed Honora, and so on until we were a united front.

"Greta Morgan understands what I've been trying to achieve. She took initiative and risks--and when a woman named Helen Berger reached out to her friends, they responded by reaching out to all of you. Even though Helen is no longer with us physically, she'll always be here in spirit. With that in mind, I dedicate this garden to Helen Berger. And I've erected a panel that I ask all of you to sign. We'll frame it once you've finished so it's a permanent part of this residence, a reminder to all of what love can do."

Thank goodness they served lots of punch, because I must have wept a gallon. The lump in my throat was impossible to swallow. As we wandered outside, my jaw dropped for the second time that afternoon. Yes, most of the landscaping was exactly as we'd left it, but there had been additions. Notably, the flight cages were filled with small parrots who chirped and called. A large tortoise had been added, and he crawled around happily munching the greens put out for him. By the gardens was a rabbit cage. Two of the seniors who lived at Martin Gardens introduced us to Hip and Hop. Painted on the crossbeam of the gazebo was Helen Berger's name, with a framed photo of Helen in her younger days.

While Skye and Lou wandered off to see how the garden was doing, MJ waved to Pete, her friend, the veterinarian. He came over and asked, "How is Kookie doing?"

"MJ didn't tell you?" I looked from her to him.

"I've been afraid to ask. I heard about her owner dying. When I saw that cockatoo, it was almost on its last legs," said Pete. "So go ahead, I'm ready to hear what happened next."

I smiled. "Jay came up with an idea. He had recorded Helen talking to Kookie. He gave the recording and Helen's favorite sweater to Skye. She wore the sweater and played the recording, endlessly. We all took turns feeding him figs, grapes, and peanuts. It took a long time, but Kookie made it. He's back at my store right now. Sitting on his perch."

"Did I hear my name taken in vain?" Jay appeared at my elbow. "Were you talking about Kookie?"

Pete grinned. "That's wonderful news."

 MJ winked at me, and I blushed. The other news was that Jay and I were dating.

Yes, I had a lot of reasons to be glad that Helen Berger had come into my life.

~ The End ~

A Note from Joanna: Thanks so much for taking this journey with me. If you've enjoyed it, let me know. I'll decide whether and how to do it again with another serialized piece of work!

Cara Mia Delgatto and the Bye-Bye Birdie, Conclusion (Part 18)

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, 16 and 17 scroll to the bottom of the blog where it says OLDER POSTS.

Two days after the community had pulled together to landscape the grounds of Martin Gardens, my cell phone rang. 

"It's Helen. She's not going to make it through the day," said Greta in a voice thick with emotion. "I've already called Honora."

After asking MJ to watch the store, Skye and I drove to the assisted living facility. EveLynn and Honora pulled up as we were leaving my car. Together the four of us walked into the place, spoke to the receptionist, and headed toward Helen's room. The door was slightly ajar when we arrived. Feeling a bit like an unofficial leader of an expedition, I tapped and walked in.

Kookie was sitting on his perch in a corner. He was totally still. If I hadn't known better, I would have taken him for a stuffed bird rather than a live one.

A male form was sitting next to Helen's bed, holding her hand and speaking to her softly. He lifted his head at our approach. Jay Boehner's damp eyes followed our progress as we all filed in. Helen gasped and shuddered. He said to all of us and none of us in particular, "That irregular breathing pattern you'll hear is Cheyne-Stokes. It's normal when someone is approaching the last moments of life."

We pulled up chairs and sat around the bed. Greta joined us. Her eyes were red. "I checked. Helen has no family."

"That's not true," said Skye. "She has us."

"It's all right to let go. Follow the light," said Jay, as he patted Helen's hand. Soon, she heeded his suggestion. The silences between each breath had become longer and longer, so that when she took the last one, it didn't dawn on me that she'd left us. Not for a while.

Helen, who had come so suddenly into our lives, slipped away so peacefully that we scarcely noticed she was gone.

I thought I'd be more upset, but I wasn't. Not really. I felt like I'd seen something through to its natural conclusion. As Jay arranged Helen's hands over her chest, I got up and walked to the window. The plants had begun to take root. The sprinkler system turned on, leaving rainbows in the path of the water. The flight cages waited for new birds to come and bring life to the garden. I could almost hear the gurgle of the fountain. Closing my eyes, I imagined the koi that would soon take up residence. On my lips, I tasted a fig from the new fig trees. If not for Helen, I would be looking at a sea of mud. If not for Helen, I would not have met Greta, Freddie, and Jay Boehner. If not for Helen, I would have missed out on watching our community pull together.

So while I would always regret her passing, how could I be sad? Helen had brought me gifts I'd never known I was missing! Her presence had been full of a blessed spirit. And although she, physically, was gone from us, that spirit lingered. And yes, we cried, but we felt her good wishes, the way you do when you stand on a train platform and wave goodbye to a fellow traveler. Helen had gone on ahead. That was all. Where she went, we soon would follow. I had to believe we would meet again. And until we did, I would hold her memory close. I would guard it and find it precious. Helen had come into our lives, asking a favor, not for herself, but for someone she loved, Kookie. But Helen had granted all of us a bigger boon, because she'd given us an experience that warmed our hearts and reminded all of us that we are only temporary. This is fleeting. But the good we can do will linger, even after we are gone.

And that brought a smile to my face.

~ On Monday, I'll write an epilogue. Until then, have a wonderful Mother's Day. And if your mother has passed, remember: She's just gone on ahead. That's all. You'll catch up with her, someday.

Your friend -- j

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 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 ~

 

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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 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