Down And Out In Flamingo Beach. Marcia King-Gamble

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      Derek had his hands wrapped around the doorknob when Nana Belle’s throaty voice reached him.

      “Derek?” she called. “Is that you, boy?”

      “Yes, ma’am.”

      It never ceased to amaze him that his wheelchair-bound great-grandmother, with her failing eyesight and poor hearing, knew almost to the second when he came home.

      He opened the front door, left his muddy construction boots at the entrance and picked his way around drywall, heading toward the back of the house where Nana Belle lived.

      The old lady spent most of her days seated in an overstuffed chair looking out at the water and smoking. Derek abhorred the habit, but figured that given Nana was almost one hundred years old and it hadn’t killed her, who was he to say anything?

      Nana Belle occupied the only room with an unobstructed view of the water. All of the other rooms had the boardwalk in between. Given the kind of life Nana had had, she deserved that one perk. Now she spent most of her day people-watching.

      “How was your day, Nana Belle?” Derek asked dutifully kissing the old lady’s weathered cheek. “Did you give Mari hell?”

      Nana Belle wrinkled her nose and stuck out her lip. “I don’t give anyone hell. Life’s too damn short for that.” She sniffed loudly. “You smell of beer. Shame on you. My Gideon never touched the stuff.”

      Gideon was Nana’s third husband. She’d outlived five so far. Now with failing eyesight and bad hearing, Nana’s olfactory senses had heightened. Derek thought she was amazing for a woman who’d seen almost an entire century go by.

      Nana’s aide, a long-suffering widow called Mari, took care of her. The two women fought constantly, usually because Nana was not eating and preferred to smoke. Nana Belle often told Mari to take a hike, and not in such pleasant terms.

      The constant bickering made the old lady feel alive and important. She actually liked her aide, it was being dependent she hated, and it killed her not to be mobile and that she needed help to be bathed and dressed.

      “How are the party plans coming?” Derek called to Mari, who was in another room.

      When he’d left at the crack of dawn, the two women had been arguing over who would be on Nana’s invitation list.

      “I don’t want no party,” Nana said, spitting out her bridgework that she claimed was more painful than helpful. Her hollow jaws worked as if she was chewing on catfish.

      “Done deal, Nana. You’re getting a party whether you want one or not.”

      The old lady snorted. Deep down, his great-grandmother was very excited about her birthday party and was an active participant in selecting who was to be on the invitation list. It was her day and as far as Derek was concerned, she could invite the entire community. How many people could say they’d lived to see as many changes as she had? How many oldest living residents of Flamingo Beach were there?

      It was going to be a huge event, and Derek thought about reserving the ballroom of the new Flamingo Beach Resort and Spa, since even Mayor Solomon Rabinowitz planned on attending. Tre Monroe, Warp’s premiere radio personality was pre-recording an interview with Nana which he planned on airing on her birthday. That was another reason Derek needed to get these renovations done.

      Word had gotten out about how big this event was. Now everyone and his dog were trying to wangle an invitation. Since the party was the same week as the centennial celebrations, T-shirts with the original map of Flamingo Beach with an X where Nana’s house was located were already being sold. Nana Belle’s party would go down in history and the house needed to look good.

      Derek was pulling out all the stops and funding the party with money from his stock options. He didn’t give a rat’s butt about the tax implications. Nana Belle had given birth to twelve children, the results of three of her five marriages. She had fifty grandchildren, thirty-eight of whom were still alive, and twelve great-grandchildren. But Derek was the only one who’d volunteered to pay for the party. Without Nana he would not be where he was today.

      So, he was determined that everything would be perfect, from the reserved parking space at the brand-new resort, should he decide to hold the event there, to the flowers provided by All About Flowers. The way Derek had it figured, the guest list would top out at one thousand people. But Nana had earned that kind of tribute.

      Had it not been for her he would not have seen a college door. Somehow his great-grandmother had found the money and sent it to his parents. Derek suspected she’d mortgaged the very house he was working on.

      It was Belle he had to thank for helping him get that master’s degree in engineering. She’d ensured him a certain lifestyle and social status far different from his very humble upbringings. His parents had been forced to move in with relatives. He, on the other hand, had the means to live on his own. He lived with his great-grandmother because he wanted to.

      “Mari, where are you?” Nana Belle called.

      “Fixing you something. Be right in.”

      “I don’t want nothing.”

      Derek tuned out the bickering that predictably would follow and thought about where he was today. He’d willingly chucked all the material things to pursue this current goal. He’d rented his fancy apartment in Chicago and traded in the luxury car for a pickup truck. He’d turned his back on the corporate world and the superficial friends that came with it to do something he much preferred—work with his hands. Now he didn’t have to plow through a management minefield and kiss the asses of people he did not respect.

      Enough of the meanderings, his second job called. Derek was not at all unrealistic. At some point Nana might have to move into an assisted-living facility and he would need a place of his own, especially if he decided to stay on in Flamingo Beach. A house this size, with all of its rambling additions, was expensive and exhausting to maintain, and definitely too big for one person.

      “When was the last time you ate?” he asked his grandmother.

      Nana lit a cigarette and blew a smoke ring in his direction. “You know Mari. She’s always forcing food down my throat.”

      “And you keep saying you don’t want anything. You just prefer to pull on those cancer sticks,” Mari shouted from wherever she was.

      No one, absolutely no one could force Nana Belle to do anything she didn’t want to do. Derek smothered a smile and tried to avoid the cloud of smoke hovering over Nana’s braided head. He made a U-turn and headed for the kitchen to find Mari and suggest she bring Belle a glass of the nutritional supplement she hated.

      He continued into the dining area, removed his shirt and began to put up drywall. He thought that if he could make the house a showpiece in time for the centennial СКАЧАТЬ