She nods.“Good idea.”
“How long do you have?”
“Only a couple of hours,” she says.“Then I have to write a research paper for school.”
“Fair enough.”I glance down at the list.“Who’s first?”
She scans the names.“Mr.Gideon.”
I nod, tucking my hands into my pockets.“Alright.Let’s go meet him.”
The retirement village is a collection of single-story homes arranged in a square pattern around a central courtyard with benches and a small garden.
We head to Mr.Gideon’s place first.
The moment he spots us through the screen door, a wide grin spreads across his face.He pushes it open and leans against the frame, eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the naughty doctor.”He crosses his arms over his chest.“And Miss Hazel.Now, Hazel, I didn’t know you kept such questionable company.”
I can’t help but grin.This guy’s got personality.
“He’s alright.”She smiles.“Mom likes him.”
Mr.Gideon lets out a dramatic sigh.“Ah, yes.Mothers always like the troublemakers.”He gives me a once-over, then wags a finger.“You do look like a heartbreaker.Bet you’ve left a trail of crying women in your wake.”
Hazel giggles while I shake my head.
“I think you’re giving me way too much credit.”
“I was a looker back in my day too, you know,” he says, tapping his temple.“Had the ladies lined up, but I was a gentleman.”He winks.“Mostly.”
Hazel bites back another giggle.“We’re here to help you, Mr.Gideon.”
“Well, don’t just stand there.Come in.”He waves us inside.“Tell me what you’re gonna do for me.”
Hazel launches into her well-rehearsed explanation of the project.As I listen, I’m impressed.She’s got a natural way of speaking.Clear, direct, thoughtful.She may be only sixteen, but she’s already more put-together than most adults I know.
Mr.Gideon nods along, rubbing his chin.“Alright, alright, so you’re basically my free labor?”
Hazel sighs.“We prefer to call it volunteering.”
He snickers.“Same thing.”
In the end, he decides he doesn’t need help with groceries because he still enjoys flirting with the cashier too much.Instead, we tackle his Christmas decor together.
I glance down at Hazel’s outfit: jeans and white sneakers.“Didn’t exactly dress for pulling decorations out of storage, did you?”
She huffs, tugging at her sleeves.“I was just thinking the same thing.”
Mr.Gideon plops down in a chair under the porch.“Don’t worry, kid, real work builds character.You should see the kind of stuff I had to do at your age.”
“Yeah?”I say.“What kind of stuff?”
“Oh, you know.”He waves a hand vaguely.“Built a barn, chopped wood, walked uphill both ways to school.The usual.”
“Uh-huh,” I say, biting back a grin.“Sounds tough.”
We spend the next couple of hours untangling strings of lights, carrying boxes of ornaments from the storage room, and setting up his elaborate Christmas display.By the time we finish, we’re both dusty, slightly out of breath from climbing ladders, and a hundred percent over it.
