The Friendship List(9)



Unity was used to Dagmar’s whirlwind, take-charge attitude. The first time Unity had come to Silver Pines to take her knitting classes, Dagmar had spotted her immediately. Within ten minutes, she pretty much knew Unity’s life story. By the end of the fifty-minute lesson, she’d introduced Unity to everyone in the class and had invited Unity to a potluck and a pickleball game. They’d been friends ever since.

“I packed up her medications yesterday,” Dagmar told her, pointing to the bathroom. “I’m hiding them at my place until she’s out of rehab. You know that doctor of hers is going to mess with everything and it will take her weeks to get back on track. This way I have a stash so we can figure it out as we go.”

“Because self-medication is always the answer?” Unity asked wryly.

“At our age, it can be.” Dagmar pointed to the roll of packing paper on the bed. “You get going on her Swarovski collection while I pack up the girl stuff. That’s mostly what she’s worried about. Her glass animals and the pictures, of course.” Dagmar’s smile faded. “She won’t have room to hang them at her new apartment. I’ve been thinking that I should put them all in a photo album for her.”

Before Unity could say anything, Dagmar pointed to the paper. “Chop-chop. I have bridge this afternoon and I’m sure you have work you should be doing.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Unity didn’t take offense at the instruction—it was simply Dagmar’s way. She unrolled the paper, then she walked around the small house, collecting the crystal animals in a sturdy box.

Betty had them in her hutch, of course, but also on floating shelves in the living room and den. As Unity gathered crystal swans and frogs, dogs and birds, she looked around at various rooms. The kitchen was recently remodeled, with quartz countertops and stainless steel appliances. There was plenty of storage and a back deck with room for a table and chairs, along with a barbecue.

The neighborhood was quiet. Safe, too, she thought, carefully wrapping the crystal pieces and placing them in the box.

Dagmar appeared a few minutes later with an empty box and an armful of framed photographs. Betty had been a background dancer in Hollywood musicals back in the late 1940s and early 1950s.

“She was a beautiful girl,” Dagmar said. She held up a photograph of a very young Betty in a scanty costume with a spray of feathers on her head.

“She was. What an exciting life.”

“She was brave.” Dagmar sighed. “I never was. I studied dance all through high school. I wanted to run off to New York and be a Rockette.” She smiled. “Back then you didn’t have to be so tall and I just made the height requirement. But my parents were very opposed and I was too scared to do it on my own. So I went to college and got my degree in library science.”

“You’ve led a pretty interesting life,” Unity told her.

“No, dear. But I have married interesting men, so there’s that.”

“This is a really nice house,” Unity said as she continued to pack. “The rooms are all a good size.”

Dagmar’s brown eyes narrowed. “Oh my God! Don’t tell me you’re checking it out.”

“What? No. Of course not. I’ve never been in Betty’s house before.”

Dagmar put her hands on her hips. “You’re what? Thirty-two?”

“Thirty-four.”

“Whatever. You’re a baby. You should not be eyeing houses in an age-restricted community. You already spend too much time here as it is. Not that I don’t love your company but you should be with people your own age.”

“I am. All the time.”

Dagmar’s eyebrows rose. “Really? Is this before or after you come here for whatever classes you’ve signed up for this time?”

Unity tried not to sound defensive. “The classes are open to the entire county.”

“Yes, but you’re one of the few not collecting social security who bother to take advantage of that.”

“So I’m smart.”

“You’re troubling me, Unity. It’s been three years. Don’t you think it’s time to want more than you have?”

“No.”

Dagmar sighed. “Maybe you want to think for a second before you answer.”

“Why? I like my life. I have my friends and my business.”

“Yes, you have all that, but what about a man?”

“I had my man. Dagmar, let it go.”

“I can’t. You had a wonderful marriage and Stuart died and it’s all very sad, but at some point you need to move on. Start dating. Have you thought about dating at all?”

“Since the last time you asked? Not really.”

Unity did her best to keep her tone friendly. She didn’t like this line of questioning. No, she hadn’t thought of dating. She’d been married to Stuart and that had been enough. One month after their wedding, he’d left for basic training. She’d joined him when he’d been assigned to a base in Colorado.

That had been their life. She’d made a home at whatever base he’d been assigned to. When he’d had leave, they’d traveled everywhere together. When his work had taken him overseas, she’d waited for him to come back to her. Being married to Stuart was all she knew. Three years after his death, she still only knew how to be his wife. Even her handyman business had grown out of her life with Stuart. Now it supported her and gave her something to do with her day.

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