Forward: This story takes place in the same world as many of my other stories, somewhere along the northern fringes of the Conch Republic. With that said, I hope you enjoy it, and your comments are welcome. Of course, this being Literature, everyone is past the age of consent. ---
I looked at the stacks of boxes and furniture scattered around my new apartment by the movers in their haste to leave and head back to the land of Jack Frost. That left me to make sense out of the chaos. In a loud, determined tone of voice, "Well, Hutch," I announced to my two companions -- Fuzzy and Wuzzy, a pair of Maine Coon cats. "You know what needs to be done, old man. And you know, your two constant companions and traveling buddies ain't gunna help. So, as usual, it's all about you." Looking over at his companions, who trailed behind his every step. This latest move had clearly distressed both of them. Well, first things first, find their food bowls and food, then get the waterfall set up so they can play with the water and have a drink of water now and then. After that get both of the litter boxes set up. With that done, the boys will know this is home. By early afternoon, a degree of order began to arise from the sea of boxes, which resulted in a flash of brilliance. "I need," Hutch yelled at no one in particular. "In the worst way, I need to go the grocery store 'cause I ain't got no food here, and most important of all, I ain't got no beer."
When I got back to the new apartment, after hitting my credit card for a couple of hundred dollars. The boys were found sitting on the consul table behind the sofa, looking out the window and carefully watching the squirrels dash around the oak trees outside next to the pool. Putting the groceries and beer away, I got a serious laugh from the hunters on the sofa, watching the nasty tree rats they knew they would dispatch. With everything done for today, the next thing was to answer the call of the pool. With that voice ringing in my ears, I headed out to the pool with a cold beer to enjoy some real sunshine.
For certain, there was plenty of sunshine at the pool but nothing else. Shortly after settling into a recliner, the sunshine and a beer did its job, and my heavy eyelids closed. "Hi, I saw you moving in this morning." A soft, lovely voice called out. "Welcome to our little oasis. If you haven't. You should pick up some SPF 50 sunscreen at the store. Otherwise, you can get a nasty sunburn laying out here, and you'll look like a tomato under a broiler. Newcomers here have gone to the ER with blisters from being out in the sun too long unprotected."
My new neighbor's suggestion got my attention. Sitting up and opening my eyes, I saw an attractive woman who looked to be in her early thirties, standing there wearing a big floppy hat and a loose coverup over what I guessed was a swimsuit. "Thanks. I just moved in today. Oh, I'm John, John Hutchinson. Most everyone calls me Hutch or a string of profanities." Moving around on the recliner, I got a better look at the woman with the voice of an angel. The thought streaked across my mind that she was one polished, very elegant lady. "There's a world of difference between here along the northern edges of the Conch Republic and where I just moved from in the lands that Jack Frost inhabits. They still have snow on the ground there, and here, the grass is green. I'll hit Amazon for the sunscreen. Thanks for the suggestion." Just wanting to keep the conversation going, I asked. "Have you lived here for a while?"
"Hi John, welcome to the neighborhood. I'm Cindy Collins. I guess you could call me a long-time resident here. I've lived here for three years, and for the most part, it's a good place to live. Almost everyone is fairly friendly, but of course, there's a sprinkling of assholes too. I've found a couple of friends here, but nothing serious. Working for an airline, it's like my home is a plane. Mostly, I do long-haul international flights as a lead attendant. When I get back from bouncing around the world, I'm off schedule for a few days. John? What brings you here?"
"Hi Cindy, and thanks for the info on the complex. This place sounds a lot like where I used to live up north. I work for a large community development company. Do you know of the Stone Run community that's just coming out of the ground here? That's where I will be working. The communities the company builds out are similar to each other. They all have a golf course with a large central clubhouse. Surrounding it is a collection of different types of homes. The clubhouse has a pro shop and offices for everyone working on the golf course, as well as a restaurant, bar & grill, in addition to a host of private function rooms. That's my domain, the Food and Beverage operations. When we finally get everything built out, I'll be the Food and Beverage Manager. Somewhere an age ago, I started working as a cook and then a chef."
"You could call me a corporate nomad, I suppose. This is my fifth move in the eight years I've worked with the company. The promise is that I'll be here for a while. But who knows? Anyway, is there someplace nearby where you can get a decent pizza?"
"YES! There is." Cindy exploded. "So, you know, I used to fly into Naples occasionally. When you're in Naples, what do you eat? You eat pizza! The pizza there is my gold standard. No pineapple and junk like that on a pizza for me."
"John? Do you know the main road that leads into the complex? Take it to the highway, turn right, and go about a half mile. At the light, you'll see a strip mall. In that building, there's a small Italian restaurant. They have serious, legit pizza. Tell you what, I have to run by the drug store and see my favorite pusher to get me some drugs. No, really, I have to pick up a couple of scripts. Can we meet at Fabio's in, say, a half hour?"
"Cindy? How can I say no to a lovely young lady and what promises to be real pizza? I'll see you there."
Twenty minutes later, I was outside of Fabio's. The sweet smells coming from the restaurant sent my noise into overdrive. A few minutes later, Cindy walked over to where I was standing, holding a paper bag. "Thank you for being on time; that's a biggie for me. OH! I got you some sunscreen while I picked up my scripts."
"Cindy, I appreciate you getting the sunscreen. That was very kind. Young lady when a lovely woman tells me there is legit pizza to be had somewhere. I will gladly follow her to the ends of the earth. The aromas from the front door make me think this place is legit."
John held the door open for Cindy to walk in. When she did, the bartender greeted her and commented on her coming in with some new guy. "What is he, competition? Cindy amore mio, you are breaking my heart."
Ah, yes, the joys of being a regular in a family-owned restaurant. As they sat down, a waiter came to the table with a terracotta pitcher and poured them a glass of red wine. "Fabio, who owns the place," Cindy began. "Gets a homemade wine shipped here from Italy. It's not a vintage wine; it's a wine you'd find in a small osteria in Naples. I like it. I hope you do, too."
At first, John took a small sip of the wine to taste it. Then, a smile spread across his face. "Cindy, this is nice," Hutch exclaimed. "I've tried different house wines, some of which can be disappointing at best. This is good, thank you."
"John, are you always so unfailingly polite?" Cindy half-said and half-giggled. "It's a pleasant surprise." The waiter stood beside Cindy; when she looked up, letting loose with a magnetic smile, then turning to the waiter, she asked, "Can I get my usual pie? Please?"
John looked up and asked. "Please understand, this is my first time here, so I don't know your menu. But, can you make a thin-crust Pizza Bianca?" The waiter's answer was a knowing smile.
After a simple tre colori insalata (that is, a salad of radicchio, white endive, and arugula) as well as another glass or two of wine, the waiter came out and presented their pizzas. Out of habit, he ran his eyes over the pizzas. "Cindy, all I can say is 'WOW.' You were correct. This place is seriously legit. Your Margherita and my Bianca both look amazing. Thank you for suggesting this restaurant." They both concentrated on their pizzas and wine for as long as they lasted. "Cindy, now I owe you twice. Once for the sunscreen, but now for introducing me to this fantastic place."
"John, no ... no, you don't owe me a thing. I love coming here, especially with someone else who appreciates the food that they make here. This place reminds me of when I went to Naples and my happy memories of that crazy city." After a piccolo dolce (a small dessert), Cindy began. "Unfortunately though, we need to get a move on as I'm leaving in the morning. I have a two-week set of flights. Usually, the flight crew I work with has three flights into Amsterdam and four into London in two weeks. Then we're off for about ten days. Yes, it's tiring, but we'll get a mandated day of crew rest, and that's when I can go out and explore where we happen to be. When I moved here, I knew I would be giving up some of the international flights I did from Miami. But, for me, it's worth it. I like being here."
Looking towards her lap, Cindy almost mumbled. "John? I'd like to see you when I get back in town. May I have your phone number? That way, we can stay in contact while I'm off dashing around the skies?"
"Cindy, I'd like that." John reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his cell. "Give me your number, and I will call you now."
For the next two weeks, Cindy and John talked or texted each other daily. Cindy had the vibe of a relaxed woman at home. She was very at ease and comfortable with herself and her environment. At work, she was micro-focused on a thousand details most travelers never saw or were aware of. At last, Cindy made it home. The first thing she did was call John, let out a huge sigh of relief, and then said. "The first thing on my list is to schedule a pedicure. Those damm shoes we must wear can kill a girl's feet. Thankfully, I'm off for ten days."
John listened patiently and smiled to himself. "Cindy? As I told you on the phone. I stopped into Fabio's, well, more than a few times. I'll call there, order us pizzas, and pick up a bottle of their red wine. While I don't know how to do a pedicure, I do know how to do a foot massage. Interested?" Cindy's response was a soft, muted thanks.
Half an hour later, John rang Cindy's doorbell and called out, "Pizza delivery."
