“Well then, welcome to Sunnydale,” he said, beaming. “It’s always nice to see new faces.”
“Thank you. How long have you been living here?”
“Going on two years.”
“And how do you like it?”
“It’s quite nice. There are a lot of activities, good food and service.” Then he hesitated.
Frida could sense there might be abutcoming. Then nothing. She wasn’t quite convinced. “But?” she put it to him boldly.
Henry chuckled. “You are rather perceptive, now, aren’t you?”
“Women’s intuition, and I’ve been around long enough to have accumulated plenty. I try to put it to good use.”
Henry was charmed. He also wanted to steer the conversation in a different direction so as not to scare off the new resident. “I don’t mean to sound forward, but are you married?”
“No. No. I’ve been a widow for several years. I used to live in Minneapolis, but my daughter and her husband wanted me to be closer to them. This was the perfect solution. At first everyone thought it was foolish to rent, but my money is in a fund, and I’d like to keep making a little money.” She paused. “My daughter will get what’s left over, but in the meantime, I might as well enjoy myself!”
He chuckled. “I totally agree. I realize most homes appreciate in value, but it can take years. And then what? I might as well keep earning money on my money while I’m still kicking!”
It was Frida’s turn to ask. “Married?”
“Widower. Ten years. Originally from Colorado, but the winters were getting into my bones.”
Frida laughed. “I know the feeling.” She paused. “You still haven’t told me about thebut.”
“But? Sorry. I was having a senior moment.”
“Don’tcha find the wordssenior citizena little, oh I dunno, boxing us in?”
“Yes, I completely agree. We live in a world where people don’t want to be labeled, yet every day there is a new one that we have to adhere to. I still haven’t mastered the pronoun thing. When I went to school, ‘they’ was plural.”
Frida chuckled again. “I know whatcha mean. What if everyone wore a name tag? Personally, I don’t care what anyone’s preference is in how they live their lives. As long as they are decent and kind.”
“Another thing we agree on. I’ve learned that life is too short to be judging other people unless you’re on a jury.”
Frida smiled. “See? Now I agree withyou.” She paused. “May I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“What did you think of that presentation back there?”
“Oh, that? They do it a few times a year. It’s their pitch meeting.”
“And do you participate?”
“Me? No. I go to see if there are any newcomers.”
“Mission accomplished,” she said, and grinned. “You know what that presentation reminded me of? One of those shopping networks. Did ya ever notice they use the ‘you don’t have to worry’ phrase for every item they have on the air?”
“Shopping networks are not my thing, but I believe you.” He motioned for them to walk toward the roundabout.
“Sometimes I channel surf and will stop if I spot something IthinkI need. I have to tell ya, I laugh when they say ‘you don’t have to worry about’ whatever, whether it’s sheets and pillowcases or a car battery. Sheets? I don’t think I’ve ever worried about my sheets. A car battery? Maybe, I might if I was stranded on a country road somewhere, but I don’t lose sleep over it.”
Henry laughed. “You’re a pip, Frida Larsen.”
“I’ve been called ‘spunky,’ too.” Frida felt her face flush a bit. It was the first time since her husband passed away that she had an easy conversation with another man. It was refreshing. She hoped there were a few more people like him. Not that she was looking for a mate, just someone to chat with. Take a walk. Have a meal.
