Page 77 of Anchored

This is our third year hosting the party, and every year, it gets more elaborate. Last year, the event got written up in the local newspaper, which was a nice souvenir for me to print out and put up on my wall. However, one of the residents posted a video to social media of half the residents attempting to twerk—heavy emphasis on the attempting part—and, of course, that went viral, leading to Sunny Shores becoming the second most popular retirement home in the nation, only second to the crazy parties held at The Villages in Florida.

I turn in a slow circle, thinking things around here have officially grown out of my grasp. Then again, I gave a quarter of the facility on paper to Debbie last week. She runs the damn thing like a drill sergeant and deserves to have an ownership stake, considering more than twenty-five percent of its success is solely due to her.

Tyler waves his arm over his head, snagging my attention. He backed his hot dog stand onto the lawn early this morning to set up for the event. He’s sponsored the party since the first year. Thankfully, we’re able to pay him quite a bit more this year to supply the all-you-can-eat hot dogs. I head in his direction, thinking I might sneak a loaded dog right now if he’s got them ready.

“Hey, buddy! Congrats on the engagement. I’m bummed I missed it. Saw the videos floating around though.” He laughs while I shake my head. The residents who happened to come across my proposal to Maple two weeks ago had all whipped phones out and recorded the whole thing to post to social media. I tell you, these old people are just as bad as teenagers.

“Maybe we can invite you to the wedding.” We shake hands and he holds up a finger, climbing back inside his stand to come back out with a steaming foil-wrapped package. “Maple’s been good for you, buddy. She’s got you eating hot dogs and ice cream on occasion so us regular guys aren’t shown up by your abs quite as much.”

I pull up my polo shirt and show off the six-pack abs that haven’t gone anywhere, even with Maple’s influence for getting takeout. I’ve simply lengthened my runs and added an extra set of ab exercises. Plus the yoga we do every night together is surprisingly athletic.

Tyler rolls his eyes and I move on to the Ripple’s Ice Cream stand right next door, making sure my shirt is down. The teens manning the booth don’t need to see an old guy’s abs. Then again, they’re going to see a lot of things today from the residents that they probably thought they’d never see an older person do. My abs would be the least of it.

“All set?” I ask, unwrapping my dog and shoving half of it in my mouth. Goddamn, that’s delicious.

“All good, Mr. McGrath!” Ella says, giving me a bright smile. Her parents own Dock & Dine Bistro. She comes from the richest family here in Anchor Lake, but her parents still require her to earn a living, a commitment to teaching a work ethic that I admire.

I move on to check with the local florist who is providing all the flower arrangements that take this ’80s party from tacky to stunning. Debbie rushes by me, a walkie-talkie to her mouth as she barks out orders. A trill of laughter has her beady eyes scanning the lawn until they land on Megan, the nurse I’ve thankfully been isolated from with Debbie’s strategic reassignment. Megan’s got her hand tucked into Mr. Mayfield’s elbow, her long red hair hanging down her back as she laughs at something he said. He’s staring at her boobs. Debbie starts in their direction and I go in the opposite. Mr. Mayfield has a sizable estate and no wife, a fact I’m sure Megan is very familiar with. I’ll let Debbie deal with that issue.

The DJ starts the first song of the day, a fun ’80s ballad to get the party started. Gracie and Grandpa come around the corner, arms around each other as they stroll over to the party. I wave them down and join them, giving them both a hug and checking out their outfits.

“Can you believe it? The summer’s over,” I say.

There’s already a difference in the morning air. The feeling of an oven opening when you step outside is over for the year. Historically, that meant Maple went home again, not to be seen for another year. This time around, she’s staying, and I couldn’t be happier.

Gracie, in a bright turquoise foil dress with puffy sleeves, waves her hand in the air. “It’s okay. We all live in a perpetual summer frame of mind. Plus there’s something delicious about winter here, when snow dusts the ground and snuggling is required in front of the fireplace.”

“Did Maple get her things okay?” Grandpa chimes in.

I nod. I offered to go back with her to Charlotte to help her move her things, but surprisingly, her brother, Toby, offered to help instead. Knowing Maple isn’t exactly close with him, I was hesitant, but Maple wanted the time alone with him to mend bridges. She called me last night saying it was all going amazing and she would meet me at the party.

“All good. She’s supposed to be here any minute, actually.” I look at my smartwatch, the fancy one Maple got me that syncs to my calendar and pings reminders so I don’t lose track of time.

As if summoned by my words, I see Maple walking up the path from the main parking lot. My face splits into a grin. She’s wearing skin-colored tights with a bright pink leotard and leg warmers. Her hair is up in a high ponytail and held by a large scrunchy that matches the leotard. Most notably, her breasts are barely held in by the costume and she knows it. The shoulder shimmy she aims my way has my heart skipping a few beats. Would anyone notice if we left this party right now?

Gracie hoots and claps her hands. “You look stunning, darling!”

I’m about to pull her into my arms and whisper inappropriate things in her ear when I finally realize there’s a couple behind her. Her parents actually came.

Maple kisses me and leans into my side. I reach out a hand and shake Mr. Thatcher’s hand. He’s in a cream linen suit and spiffy boat shoes that look like they’ve never seen a boat. Or the outside of a boardroom. Mrs. Thatcher gives me a hug that lacks sustenance, kissing the air by my ear before pulling back. She’s in a sundress. Her only nod to the theme is the cloth wristbands on each arm. I have a feeling Maple supplied those.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” I say, breaking the silence when Gracie and her son stand there staring at each other in a standoff. Grandpa steps up to Gracie’s side and puffs out his chest, his hand protectively on Gracie’s back.

“Mother,” Mr. Thatcher says, glancing at Grandpa, but keeping his focus on his mom. “You look so good. I’ve…missed you.”

The words don’t seem to come naturally, but they seem heartfelt when he suddenly wraps the small woman in his arms and doesn’t let go. Mrs. Thatcher smiles wistfully at the sight. When the two finally break apart, Grandpa is introduced, and while Maple’s parents are shocked about the marriage, they quickly embrace Grandpa into the fold. Good thing too, or I have a feeling Gracie might have gone nuclear and kicked them out of the party.

I nuzzle Maple’s neck. “This is going well.”

She turns her face and steals a kiss from me. God, I missed her. Just three days away from each other and I felt like I was going to crawl out of my skin if I couldn’t see her. Touch her. Tell her how much I love and adore her. I’m absolutely crazy for this woman.

“Toby and I had an intense chat and then we talked to Mom and Dad,” she whispers, making sure her parents are still busy talking to Gracie and Grandpa. “I’ve discovered that when you have zero fucks to give, it doesn’t matter what other people do. They could either get their act together and be part of our lives, or they could choose not to. Either way, it didn’t matter to me. I’m done catering to them, minimizing myself, letting them step all over me.”

My smile only grows. Maple’s beautiful any day, but when she’s maturing and coming into her self-confidence, she has a glow about her that drives me wild. “I love you,” I say simply.

Her arms tighten around my waist. “I love you too.”

“Why’s everybody just standing around? Isn’t this a party? Let’s dance!”

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