Issue date: June 13, 1999

Back to the Summer Fiction Series

by Elmore Leonard

HEY LIVED in a retirement village of cottages set among palm trees and bougainvillea, maids driving golf carts. The woman, Natalie, wore silk scarves to cover what was left of her hair, a lavender scarf the afternoon Vincent appeared at her door. He told her through the screen he thought it was time they met. She said from the chair she sat in most of the day, "It's open," closed the book she was reading, a finger inside holding the page, and watched him come in in his khaki shorts and T-shirt.

"You didn't have to get dressed up on my account."

She liked his smile and the way he said, "I was right. I've found someone I can talk to."

"About what?"

"Anything you want, except golf."

"You're in luck. I don't play golf."

"I know you don't. I checked."

She liked his weathered look, his cap of white hair, uncombed. "You're here by yourself?"

"On my own, the first time in 57 years."

She laid the book on the table next to her. "So now you're what, dating?"

He liked the way she said it, with a straight face.

"If you're interested, Jerry Vale's coming next week."

"I can hardly wait."

He said, "I like the way you wear your scarves. You've got style, kiddo."

"For an old broad? You should see me in a blond wig."

"A woman can get away with a good one. But you see a rug on a guy, every hair in place? You can always tell."

"That's why you don't comb your hair?"

Again with the straight face. He shook his head.

"I made a decision," Vincent said. "No chemo, no surgery. Why bother? I'm 80 years old. You hang around too long, you end up with Alzheimer's, like Howard. You know Howard? He puts on a suit and tie every day and calls on the ladies. Has no idea where he is."

"Howard's been here. But now I think he and Pauline are going steady. Pauline's the one with all the Barbie dolls." Natalie paused and said, "I'll be 82 next month."

"You sure don't look it."

"Not a day over, what, 75?"

"I'll tell you something," Vincent said. "You're the best-looking woman here, and that's counting the maids and the ones that pass for nurses. Some are OK, but they all have big butts. You notice that? Hospitals, the same thing. I've made a study: The majority of women who work in health care are seriously overweight."

"You've spent a lot of time in hospitals?"

"Now and then. No, this is the closest I've come, this assisted living. Or as it says in the literature, 'The gracious and dignified living you deserve.' As long as you can afford it, live in your own prefab cottage. I did all right with prefab, built terraces, row housing. É Some, it turned out, in the wrong place. Andrew came along and blew 'em off the lot." He said, "I know you were married. What'd your husband do?"

"Commercial real estate."

"I might've known him."

"In New York City."

There was a lull. Vincent glanced around the room, at furnishings from another life, expensive-looking pieces.

"You're happy here?"

"Am I happy?"

"I mean, do you like living here?"

"It's all right."

He waited before saying, "Are you in pain?"

"I have my pills."

Vincent nodded. "Back 'em up with a cocktail in the evening, against orders."

She said, "Do you always wait till evening?"

"Hardly ever."

Natalie stirred, pulling herself up. "You can have whatever you like as long as it's Polish vodka."

"You want me to get it?"

She said, "Sit still," up and moving now: slim brown legs in a white shirtdress that barely reached her knees. He could see her 50 years ago, taller, not as frail, dark hair in place of the lavender scarf, a confident, good-looking woman. She returned with drinks in crystal glasses, handed him one and settled back into her chair with a sigh. Now she was looking at him again.

"Don't you have drinking buddies?"

"The guys here," Vincent said, "the ones who know where they are, either play golf and talk about it on and on, or they sit and watch TV all day. I get the feeling they miss Ronald Reagan."

She sipped her drink. "Is it a matter of time with you?"

"I'm given maybe six months. What about you?"

"Anywhere from a few months to 'who knows?' "

"Are you afraid?"

"Not so much anymore."

He said, "You learn to live with it."

And she smiled. "In a manner of speaking."

" 'Maintaining a quality of life,' " Vincent said, quoting the literature again, " 'to which you're accustomed.' Only this isn't what I'm accustomed to. Hanging out, not doing anything."

"Waiting," Natalie said. "No, I'm not either." They sipped their drinks in silence, not a sound coming from anywhere in the house or outside, in that green glare of vegetation in sunlight.

"You want to get out of here?" Vincent said.

It surprised her. "What do you mean?"

"Take off? Go somewhere?"

Natalie said, "Yeah, we could," nodding her head. "Or," she said after a moment, "you could get your pills and move in here with me. What do you think?"

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ART CREDIT: Alison Seiffer for USA WEEKEND