From the Golden Archives…

“I’ve always wanted to write a book,” I said.

“You’ve said that for thirty years,” replied my patient husband. “Might be time to get started. Do it!”

That was three years ago, and I did! I wrote three books in my Charli series, self-published, launched my platform, jumped in to social media, met countless wonderful folks, and wow…every day is a new adventure. Here’s another post about my writing life.

To celebrate, I am going to feature my books and writing journey on my blog for the next few weeks. I am starting with a short story, to introduce you to the world of Charli and Pud.

 

Afternoon Delight

Jena C. Henry

 

Ding! I grabbed my phone from the armrest of my lounge chair and read a text message:  The Eagle will be landing with the Nest

I texted back: ???

Moments later, my phone rang and I smiled to see my son August’s name on the screen. He was planning to stop by after work. And he was bringing us something.

Stretched out on my patio chair, I soaked in another delightful Disney-themed afternoon. The day lilies and hydrangeas waltzed in the breeze, a blue bird bounced on the Japanese Maple, and a chipmunk jitterbugged under the blue spruce. I did spy a few lusty dandelions, but it was such a pretty day, I decided they could join in the celebration, too.

Since Aug was stopping by, I decided to text my sister to see if she and her husband could join us for a light dinner. Sibby and George had become our happy-hour buddies, now that we were all retired. For a grey-haired gang, we were still pretty snappy.

I smiled at my text and then put down my phone and picked up my ereader and dove back into my story. My dog Oakley rolled on her side, yawned, and continued her dream in the sunlight. I yawned, too.

Voices, what? “Mom, Mom, where are you?”

I sat up. Is Pud home from golf already?

“I’m out here!” Oakley sprang up and joyfully jumped as my husband and son found me in the back yard. “I must have been reading with my eyes shut.” Aug reached down and wrapped me in a bear hug.

“I need to make a pit stop,” said Pud. “Are we eating out here?”

I explained about our impromptu get together, but trailed off as Pud dashed into the house. “…thought we’d grill… Oh, well. Aug, good to see you. Go help yourself to a drink, and make something for Dad while you’re at it.”

“Yep, always good to anesthetize dear old Dad.”

“Aug!” My son made a face at me as he walked across the patio. Oakley followed him, but then she decided she couldn’t leave me, so she trotted back and lay down near me.

Once my guys were back and settled with their drinks, I explained the rules of engagement. “Tonight, we are featuring smash burgers. I saw this recipe online and they are supposed to be the best cheeseburgers you will ever eat. Oh, and did I tell you that Sibby and George are coming over, too?”

Not one to embrace change of any kind, Pud replied, “I liked our regular cheeseburgers just fine.”

I brushed off his comment with a wave of my hand and continued, “Here’s how to make them: We’ll need two-ounce balls of ground meat. Then, you put the balls on a hot pan, smash them with a spatula, cook them one or two minutes, flip, then slide the patties on the bun and devour!”

“That will never work,” said Pud.

“The recipe said that they taste so good because the outside of the meat gets crisp with that special umami taste.”

“Ok, well, I’m making a brat for myself,” said Pud.

“Dad, let’s try them. Mom, I’ll be the grillmeister… or grill smasher.”

“Ok, let’s go in the kitchen and get organized. Pud, please turn on the grill.”

“I think I can handle that. If George and Sibby are coming, I’ll get out the Grey Goose and tonic.”

Aug and I chatted as we worked in the kitchen, then we carried trays out to the grill. Pud wrinkled his nose and peered at the salad. Then he looked over at my summer squash-spicy coleslaw combo. “What is this?”

“Pud, I think you’ll like it. It’s like that good Memphis coleslaw we had last week.”

“I only like my mom’s coleslaw,” Pud said with a scowl.

“Well, she can’t send it to us from heaven, Dad, so come on, let’s get ready to pound our meat!” August replied, laughing.

I delivered a playful slap on my son’s shoulder. “Aug!”

 

***

 

Aug had flattened the hamburger balls, and the grill was hot, when Sibby texted me that they were running late.

I replied: No prob. Come out back when you get here. I added a hamburger and umbrella drink emoji.

“Mom, I’ll make you a wine spritzer while we wait.” Aug tossed the old gnawed Frisbee to Oakley as he walked to the house.

I’m blessed to spend an evening with my family. Soon, Oakley alerted us with  her happy bark. George and Sibby strolled to the patio.

George smiled and leaned in for a light hug. “Hi Charli, my sizzling sister-in-law.”

“That’s me!” I said.  “Aug, they’re here!” Sibby and I shared a tighter hug.

“No need to yell, I’m right behind you, Mom. Hey, Uncle George, Aunt Sibby.”

As we settled into our chairs, George’s eyes lit up as he announced, “You’ll never guess where Sibby and I went today.”

“The DIY Nuclear Power Plant Store,” said Aug.

“Ha, not even close. We stopped at that huge RV place.” George looked over at Sibby with a smile, as if they shared a special secret.

“Oh, the one that’s south of town?” Aug asked.

“Yep. We didn’t know it was there, but we were driving back from the Make Your Own Mulch recycling place and found it,” said George.

“We had a blast looking at all the campers and RV’s,” said Sibby.

“I didn’t even know you were interested in RV’s. Were you looking just for fun?” I questioned.

“Well, yes when we stopped by, it was just on a lark, but RV’s are so luxurious now. I had no idea there were so many designs and features,” said Sibby.

“They were probably at least a million dollars each,” said Pud.

“We saw some pretty nice ones, but a million may be a bit steep for us. We’ve been talking about how we spend so much time traveling to see the kids, this might be a fun way to do it,” said George. Sibby wrapped her arm around George’s waist and offered a loving squeeze.

Aug popped his head in again and announced, “Time to make the smash burgers!” We organized the rest of the food and stood around the grill with our buns on our plates, ready for Aug’s creations. “I should make this a YouTube video,” he said.

We settled in comfortable silence as we ate. The smash burgers were a hit, although George opined that nothing beat a thick, juicy burger.

Sibby said, “Oh, I am loving these flavors. That’s one thing, George. Would we miss not having a backyard patio and grill if we hit the road in our Conestoga wagon?”

“Would you even keep your house?” Pud asked.

“We are just in the talking stage, but we do think our house is a bit large for just the two of us now. The kids are scattered all over the country…”

“And they have their own places now, so they aren’t coming home as much,” said Sibby.

“And we’d like to do some traveling, too. I could see us having a condo here, or I guess anywhere we want and then we can travel in style across the U.S.A.,” said George.

“I love my home but it seems that so many of our friends are making changes,” I said. “Florida, houseboats, summer homes, downsizing, that’s all we talk about now.”

“Ok, I’ll let you old people natter on.  I am going to go install your surprise,” said Aug.

“Surprise? Don’t put any holes in the walls,” said Pud.

 

***

 

We finished dinner, having devoured all the smash burgers. Sibby had brought her chocolate chip cookies, so we ate one (or three) as we relaxed. “Aug, Sibby brought those cookies you love,” I said.

“He can’t hear you, he’s in the house. And Oakley is going to grab your cookie,” said Pud.

Aug opened the patio door. “I’m done. Come see your Nest.”

“What? A nest? What are we – birds?” Pud replied.

Aug waved us into the great room and over to our thermostat in the alcove. The original thermostat with its faded gold box was gone. Aug pointed to a new round dial, with a digital “68” on a bright blue background. “You are going to love the Nest,” he said. “It’s so smart and can do so much.”

Aug turned and clicked the globe, explaining the wonders of our new digital thermostat. When he finished the presentation, I had a vague notion that we could schedule the times we wanted the heat or air conditioning to go up or down to conserve energy. But, I had no clue as to how to set or operate the gizmo.

Pud asked Aug a few more questions and then gave the dial a tentative tap. “Nothing’s happening. Why did you change this? The old one was fine and I knew how to work it.” Yep, my good old predictable Hubby.

Aug went over the steps again, but Pud still couldn’t get the new Nest to respond.  Aug didn’t give up. He grabbed Pud’s cell phone from the arm of the sofa. “I know, we’ll install the Nest app and you can run it from your phone. You can even change the settings when you’re not home. I think it will be easier for you to do it this way.”

“Why would you want to change the temperature when you’re not home?”  Sibby asked, and chuckled.

“To freak out the dog?” said George.

“Funny,” said Aug. “No, let’s say in the winter you head down to Florida in your RV. You can turn the heat down, and then check on your phone app to make sure the furnace is still running while you’re away. And then driving back, when you are about two hours from home, you can turn up the heat so it’s toasty for you when you get back.”

“Wow, cool!” I said.

“That’s right, that’s what this thing does, it cools. You’re a quick study, Charli,” said George. I narrowed my eyes and couldn’t help but smirk at him.

“It is nifty,” said Aug. “Mom, give me your phone and I’ll get the app started for you, too. You like tech, you’ll do great with this.”

While Aug continued with the Nest project, the four of us laughed and talked as we cleaned up from dinner.

“Oh, didn’t I see something on Facebook about you being a TV star?” George asked Pud. “Tell us the big news.”

“It’s not really news. My golf partner had me go with him to a seminar on Monetizing Your Golf Hobby. He is all revved up about it.”

“Oh, like what, giving lessons?” said Sibby.

I opened the dishwasher and paused. I couldn’t stop myself. “It’s more like selling buckets of golf balls that they find in the pond on the course.” I gave Pud a quick peck on the cheek. “Oh, sorry hon. The guys actually do have a good idea. Well, you tell them, Pud.” I busied myself loading the plates.

Pud paused for a moment and cleared his throat. “We are thinking of trying out for reality TV shows.”

Silence.

“Like The Bachelor?” Sibby finally asked, breaking the ice again. “Or Shark Tank?”

“Kinda. Apparently, reality golf shows are big right now,” said Pud.

“Like Project Fairway!” said Sibby. We laughed and got into the spirit of the topic.

“Or Par Stars!” said George. We stopped giggling and gave him a quizzical look. “You know, like Pawn Stars.”

“Gotcha,” said Sibby. “How about Deadliest Chip?”

We all yelled at once, all except Pud. “Keeping Up with the Clubhouses.”

“The Real Golf Widow Housewives,” Sibby added.

“Dancing with the Pars!” I roared and whooped and choked on my drink.

“Poor Pud. Well, let us know if you need any more ideas,” said Sibby.

I smiled as I took in the warm faces and laughter all around me. I love my family. I love my home. So many fun times!

Was all this going to change?

 

*          *          *

 

I decided to slink away from Pud’s glare and see how Aug was coming with the Nest. “Thanks, hon, for doing all the work to install it. Was it hard to do?”

“You know me. I’m a tech geek. It was fun.”

“Aug, George and Sibby were talking about RV’s and you know, I’ve been thinking about what to do with our house. For so many years, it truly has been our nest, but now…”

He turned to me with a smile. “Your hatchlings have left the nest. But we can make it a nest that works for you. We can upgrade it and make it into a smart home.”

“What’s a smart home? Upgrades, like what?”

“True product connectivity, so everything runs on the internet. And wouldn’t you and Dad like a theater room and a hot tub and a six-burner gas stove? We could do all kinds of things.”

“Well, let’s start with this Nest,” I said.  Aug had me practice scheduling and changing temperature settings. With him prompting me, I could make it work. “Good job, Mom. Well, I think I earned a beer.”

He went to the kitchen and I stayed behind, tapping and turning the temperature gadget. Who knows? Even Sibby was thinking of changing her lifestyle. But why not? Why not have some fun and travel before you had to downsize to the single, sterile nursing home room? What should Pud and I do?

 

***

For the next few days, Pud fretted and griped about the Nest. He was like Papa Bear, either too hot or too cold. “We’ll get the hang of it,” I said.

One morning, Pud was at his early Men’s Golf League and I was taking a shower. As I rinsed my hair, I heard Oakley bark. Then I heard a voice. “Charli, where are you?”

“In here.” I yelled louder. “In here!” I could hear Pud calling again. I stepped out of the shower and began to dry myself.

“It’s hot as the Sahara in here. I melted on the course and it’s even hotter in here. Didn’t you notice? You have to come and get this thing to work or I am going to rip it out of the wall.”

“Ok, I’ll be there as soon as I get dressed.”

“No, just come now. We’ve got to cool down this house.”

I held a towel as best I could and followed Pud back to the troublemaker. The round dial glowed orange, and showed a black “82”. “Do you think that means it’s eighty-two degrees in here?”

“Who knows? I’m going to go sit in the car and turn on the air conditioning. I can’t stand it in here. And don’t let August do anything to our house again.” Pud huffed to the kitchen. “Where are my shoes? Oakley, get out of my way.”

I clicked and turned like I thought Aug had, but nothing changed. Maybe I should call or text him. I checked my dresser, bathroom counter and then retraced my steps to the kitchen where I found my phone by my half-full mug of coffee. As I picked it up, I saw the Nest app. That’s right, Aug installed that on my phone; he said it would be easier to use. OK, let’s give it a whirl.

 I clicked on the app and it opened and displayed a cute photo of a little house above an orange circle. The circle was adorable, just like the Nest on my wall. I touched the orange circle, and started hitting the arrows. Yay, the digital number changed!  I clicked it to seventy degrees. The orange circle turned blue and informed me that it would take one hour and forty minutes to cool to seventy. I had played the Nest game and won.

Clutching my towel, I dashed through the house to the garage door to tell Pud about my success. He was sitting in the car, motor running, and I could hear the radio on a talk show rant. I jumped and yelled at him. He didn’t respond, so I waved with one hand above my head and screamed. This time Pud noticed me.

He jerked his hand in a circle to indicate that he was going to open his car window. Instead, he hit the car horn. Then he turned on the windshield wipers and flashers. Pud shrugged and threw up his hands. I gave him a thumbs-up to signal that I had fixed the temperature. He scowled and hit the car window and then the garage door growled and lurched. I yelled that he must have hit the garage opener. In all the excitement, I dropped my towel on the concrete floor.

I stood there in all my glory, with my arm waving, like a Statue of Liberty without her toga. On the other side of the opening door, the sun gleamed on a pair of black shoes, and then brown socks. As the door rolled upward, I saw a pair of brown shorts and then a few second later, a smile. The happy UPS guy flinched, and jerked the package he was holding to cover his eyes.

I choked out, “Bend and snap!” as I scrambled for my towel. Then I darted into the house yelling, “Afternoon Delight!”

The dog was thrilled to see me running down the hall. “Oakley,” I said, “other old ladies may be moving and traveling during their golden years, but after that experience in the garage, I am never leaving this house again.”

Jena C. Henry, July, 2017