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A Mandarin Bay Novel - Book 3

Single mom, widow, and high school guidance counselor, Sharon Burman Adler, has her hands full raising her two children—musical prodigies—since her husband’s accidental death. Neil had been the conductor of the Tampa Bay Orchestra, killed by an automobile four years earlier. Since then, her fourteen-year-old son hasn’t touched the piano keyboard while her daughter, at seventeen, keeps postponing work on her college applications. Sharon hasn’t had time or energy to think of getting involved with another man. Until one night, in a rainy parking lot…

Jeff Messing, M.D. has never been married. He’s been too busy climbing the career ladder, and now, he is the Director of Emergency Medicine at a Level One Trauma Center. He’s visited the Mandarin Bay community because his dad, Pete, recently moved there to be near Donna Roberts, his significant other. One rainy night in a supermarket parking lot near Mandarin Bay, Jeff yanks a woman away from an oncoming car. She looks familiar, and holding her in his arms feels…more than right. Can Jeff provide enough love and support so that together, he and Sharon can create a new strong family?

In the meantime, among the senior set, another couple is having their ups and downs. Ken Solomon, from New Jersey, has retired and moved next door to Susan Turner, a friend of Libby’s. They live in connective villas—roof-mates—and share a common wall. Their back yard lanais are adjacent to each other. Susan likes her own quiet life, simple routines. She’s an introvert and is miserable having a new neighbor like Ken. The man is an outgoing curmudgeon who likes to tease and make friends. Sparks fly between them, but Libby lectures them to be nice to one another!

Chapter One

“The lady next door is your friend?” In his new home, Kenneth Solomon’s eyes widened in disbelief as he stared at long-time resident, Libby Burman. “No kidding? Opposites sure attract. You’re nice and friendly while she’s …” Mandarin Bay’s newest resident shook his head. “Who knew I’d get stuck with a roof-mate like her. I should have bought a separate house, not an attached villa.”

“Most roof-mates wind up as great friends,” said Libby, who delighted in representing Mandarin Bay’s Welcome Committee.

“Not her! She told me if I played mah-jongg, she’d introduce me to a couple of people, but I was on my own for any other game. And forget about introductions to neighbors on the street.” He took a deep breath. “Know what I told her?”

“I’m not sure I want to.”

“I told her that I’m a grown man and didn’t need her help.”

Libby swallowed her retort. A couple of curmudgeons. Susan was so set in her ways, and Ken seemed too proud for his own good.

“Are you a card-playing guy?” Libby put her tote bag on a kitchen chair.

“Absolutely. Poker, canasta, bridge. I golf and swim. I managed to keep myself busy up north since my wife …” He shook his head, but his body stilled as if the grief was fresh.

Libby nodded sympathetically. When a new senior moved into the community alone, a spousal loss was often the culprit. “As a member of the Welcome Committee, I know about your wife, and I’m very sorry.”

“Yeah, me, too,” said Ken, his voice hoarse. “Rosie was the best. The best friend I ever had. We’d laugh about everything until she got sick and we couldn’t.” He paused, shook his head. “I never once looked at anyone else. No one on God’s green earth could ever …”

The man’s grief would keep him down, prevent him from taking any pleasure in this next chapter of life. She had to shake him up. Go into her it’s for your own good mode.

“You kept on working though,” said Libby, “and that’s the trick. Probably a saving grace afterward. Work’s a wonderful distraction for part of the day. I know it was for my daughter.”

Ken’s brows rose.

“Sharon was still in her thirties and had two children to raise.” Libby held his glance. “Life sucks sometimes, but we go on. Don’t we?”

A deep breath escaped from Ken. “I see what you’re saying Libby Burman, but I don’t get guilted into anything anymore. Someone’s always got it worse. But I feel what I feel, and I’m doing the best I can.”

“Of course you are,” replied Libby, patting his arm. “You moved to Mandarin Bay, and I’m telling you truthfully, it’s the best thing you could have done.”

“We’ll see. Maybe.” His fingers drummed on the kitchen table. “The couple of years in New Jersey after my retirement were two years too many.” He glanced her. “The weather. Too much indoor time. Except my daughter’s up there with my grandsons.”

A smile crossed his face and a younger Ken appeared, a relaxed man. Libby listened to his story of family. Great son-in-law, his two grandkids played Little League ball last spring, and now soccer. He planned flying visits whenever they wanted him—or needed him.

“Sounds like you’ve figured it all out,” said Libby. “Good for you. Moving here by yourself was a big decision. I get that. So, it’s good to know that family is forever. No matter what.”

Ken jerked his head into a nod. “You’re a smart woman, Libby Burman.”

Chuckling, Libby said, “That’s what Sam says … sometimes. When I don’t drive him crazy with my nutty ideas, that is.” She reached into her tote bag for items a newcome might need. “Paper towels? Trash bags? Oh, and don’t let me forget the Mandarin Bay directory of activities. Open table games—cards, mah-jongg, whatever--are listed under the clubhouse heading. Special events are listed separately. And so on.”

“What about golf?”

“Speak to my husband. Sam has a Friday morning group.” She handed Ken her business card. “My home number is here. Call anytime you want.” She looped the straps of the tote around her arm.

“Oh, one more thing.” She paused and leaned into the man’s space. “My friend, Susan …?

“Oh, the neighbor. We even share a lanai.” Ken’s voice went flat with a thread of suspicion.

“Don’t glare at me, Ken Solomon! There’s a screen wall separating the two homes on that lanai. I was just going to say you and Susan have a lot in common. She lost her husband several years ago, too, and has sworn to remain single forever. I know she means it, so you have nothing to worry about. Your single status is safe. Just smile and be a good roof-mate. Say good morning, ask how she is, or just wave. You should know each other. It’s less dangerous that way.”

He looked quizzical.

“What if we have a hurricane and the lights go out? What if one of you doesn’t have a flashlight? We’re in the middle of the hurricane season right now! What if you visit your kids in Jersey, stay longer, and the mail piles up?”

“And what if pigs fly?” asked Ken. But this time his brown eyes were gleaming. “You sure are one funny lady and as transparent as cellophane.”

“Well, you’re rid of me now.” Libby headed toward the door. Just do me a favor and be nice to Susan.”

She closed the door behind her, stared at the falling rain, and sighed. Hopefully, she’d planted a seed in the brain of the newbie resident. Curmudgeon or not.

In the meantime, she was looking forward to dinner with her family, a regular routine on a Friday night, usually at her own house. This week, however, Sharon was hosting. With school starting on Monday, her daughter enjoyed hosting the end of summer dinner at her house. As she explained each year, she might not have time later on.

Baloney! Sharon was a whirlwind organizer. She could figure out time for anything. Her real reason for hosting the family dinner, Libby suspected, was to make sure her parents, kids, brother, sister-in-law and nephews were aware of everyone’s new schedules and activities. They were all her backup. People she could count on … just in case.

Libby sighed. If only Neil hadn’t died. If only Sharon was open to another relationship. If only the children had a loving father-figure in their lives. Get a grip! She rushed through the raindrops to her car, thankful she and Sam had been able to move into the community after the tragedy. They tried to provide as much comfort and stability to Sharon and the children as they could. The hard-learned truth, reinforced many times over: Parenting didn’t stop when kids reached twenty-one. It was a lifetime commitment. At least it was for her and Sam.

***

Sharon Burman Adler stood under the canopy of her local Publix supermarket, annoyed at herself as she watched the heavy rainfall. Glancing at the sky, she saw no break in the clouds. Options? Wait forever until the rain lessened or get soaking wet making her way to the car, pushing a loaded shopping cart. She didn’t relish either one.

It was three o’clock on a Friday afternoon, and she had dinner to prepare. No time for rain! Normally, a high-energy person, she was now dragging a bit after spending the week preparing for the new school year. Her caseload had grown, but every student needed a piece of her time, not to mention every faculty member, parent, and college admissions office. A high school guidance counselor was the liaison among all.

Dinner had to be made, however, and although she had the needed ingredients at home, she’d been short on everyday groceries. With two active teenagers to feed, a low-inventory pantry was a non-starter. Her mouth curved up at the thought of her kids, the best youngsters in the world. They didn’t deserve the rough deal they’d been handed in life.

Without warning, her eyes filled. Neil’s accident still had the power to bring her to the edge. Don’t go there now. She straightened her spine and refocused on the parking lot. Still pouring. At least she had one of those small personal umbrellas. It was something.

She opened it and began to walking, one hand on the shopping cart, the other holding the umbrella, her purse hanging beneath it. She swiveled her head slowly, seeking her car. Every vehicle looked hazy. She was halfway down an aisle when a pair of headlights headed toward her, the vehicle fishtailing back and forth as it came swiftly closer. Crazy close! Is he blind? Do something! She let go of the cart and umbrella—Oh, God. Her kids needed her—and jumped hard to her right, aiming at the narrow space between two parked cars.

“I’ve got you.” The deep voice was matched by a pair of strong arms as she was lifted higher and placed gently into the safe space.

“Don’t move,” he ordered.

As if she could. Her heart galloped, her body shook, but the man wasn’t paying attention to her anymore, and she hadn’t even gotten a look at him. She saw his broad back as he ran toward the still moving car, somehow opened the passenger door and brought the vehicle to a stop. His voice came to her, “Call 9-1-1!”

Right. She pulled her cell phone from her purse and with shaky hands made the call. Then she took a deep breath and plunged forward toward the action. The rain was less intense, but hardly anyone else had seemed to notice what happened. No crowds gathered as they usually did with these events.

In the front seat, the male driver was now lying on his back while the good Samaritan was administering CPR, pushing hard and fast on the victim’s chest. “Cardiac arrest,” he said between breaths.

“I can take over when you need me to,” she said. “I get recertified every year.”

“I’ve got this. You direct the ambulance.”

“Will do.” If he weren’t so bossy, she’d think they made a good team. She hurried toward the entrance to the lot, looking for the truck. To her relief, she heard the sirens approach, louder and louder every second.

In no time, she watched the EMTs take over the rescue while the guy who provided the initial CPR stood behind them, a stethoscope around his neck, his eyes focused on the action. “I think he’s stabilized now,” he said. “What’s his BP?”

“Barely registering, but at least we’ve got a heart rhythm, even if it’s a lousy one.” The medic looked at his partner. “Get the AED. We can shock him.” They smeared a medical gel on the patient’s chest, positioned two paddles of the defibrillator, pressed down, and sent a shock through the equipment to his heart.

The medic listened again. “That’s more like it. We can move him,” A minute later, the ambulance took off, sirens and lights at full strength.

“At least he’s alive.”

Sharon stared at the fast-thinking, fast-acting man. Dark eyes, curly hair somewhat flattened by the rain which had now stopped. He wasn’t a total stranger. “He’s alive thanks to you, Dr. Jeff Messing.”

His lips twitched. “I wondered if and when you’d recognize me. You weren’t a fan the last time we met. You’re Sharon something-or-other, Libby and Sam’s daughter.”

She nodded. “It’s Adler. Sharon Adler. Last spring, at the play in the clubhouse, I wasn’t crazy about your attitude. Something about women and diamond rings. But you more than made up for that today.” She looked into the distance where the ambulance had gone. “Not only for saving his life but mine too.” She looked around wildly. “Now where the heck are my groceries?”

He pointed, jogged to the cart, and pushed it back to her. “Don’t give me too much credit. No guarantee about our patient on the gurney. He’s in very critical shape.”

He threw back his head and began to laugh, then held up his hand in a stop motion. “No, no. I’m not a monster. I’m not laughing at the patient. Poor fellow. It’s just that here I thought I was on my way to a nice, quiet dinner with my dad and Donna. Away from the hospital, away from emergencies.” He shrugged. “I guess that’s life’s little joke.”

For all his effort to lighten the mood, the man looked beat. Still handsome, but tired. “You definitely deserve more than a nice quiet dinner, Jeff. You deserve a great meal. So, let’s raise the feast up a notch.”

His brows rose, and she knew she’d caught his interest. “I insist you come home with me. I’ll invite your dad and Donna. My folks are already coming. We’ll share a Friday night dinner to celebrate.”

“Celebrate? What are we celebrating? A parking lot accident?”

The man was daft if he didn’t get it. “You said it yourself. Life, Jeff. We’re celebrating life.”