Touched Up
When Grace Dickenson’s husband, Pierce passed, she felt a disorientation she had never experienced before. She barely managed to get through the services and the legal thicket involved with transferring their shared assets over to her accounts. Most of this she did with the help of her neighbor and best friend, Claudia and her longtime attorney, Cletus Byler. Just before she left Mr. Byler’s office, he caressed her hand and said, “Grace, you’re a woman who should not be left alone.”
Faced with living alone for the first time in 35 years, Mrs. Dickenson spent many long mornings cleaning house. She napped in the afternoon and had a lonely cocktail every evening. Her husband’s death was not expected. He was only 64, still running his tiny CPA firm. One Sunday morning he didn’t wake up. Doctors said it was a massive stroke.
Although Mrs. Dickenson was only a year younger than her husband, she still looked like a woman ten years younger than she was. She was still pretty, the way she was when she was the first runner up for Miss South Carolina some 40 years ago. Over the years, many men noticed her beauty, but only a few made advances. They lived in a small town and Mr. Dickenson was a tall, powerful, former athlete. A man who got jealous easily, his demeanor around Grace suggested he was not a man to be taken lightly.
That changed after he died. The first friendly neighbor to pay Mrs. Dickerson a visit was Herman Chambers, her best friend Claudia’s husband. It was a warm Thursday evening and Claudia was at Bible study. “I hope I’m not disturbing you Miss Grace,” Herman said. He was leaning against the chain link fence that ran between the Dickerson and Chambers homes. “I see your tending to your rose bushes.”
“Oh, hello Herman, you startled me.” She stood erect. She was wearing a pair of shorts, and an old top she wore for yardwork.
“I know you’re grieving and I feel just awful about Pierce. You must be lonely.”
Mrs. Dickenson nodded politely. She put down her gardening tool and said, “Claudia wanted me to go with her tonight, but I’m just not ready to get dressed up and go out yet.”
Herman smiled. “You were born dressed up, Grace.” He laced his fingers through the fence links. “Say, Grace, would you like me to fix us up a couple of those gin and tonics I know you love?”
“No I would not, Herman.” She stared at him, her eyes deliberately cold, before she turned and went into the house.
Three days later, Jerry Castellano, who lived at the other end of the street, stopped by to chat. He too had kind words about the way Mrs. Dickerson looked, especially so soon after her husband’s passing. He went on to say, “I want you to know Grace, that I am always available if you need someone to talk to, a shoulder to lean on.”
“Thank you Jerry. You’re very kind.”
“When I lost Anna, I don’t mind telling you it would have been soothing to have a woman to help me in my grief,” Jerry said.
Mrs. Dickerson didn’t miss a beat. She said, “That’s why I’m so grateful that I have my friend, Claudia.”
Some men would have cut and run at that point, but Jerry Castellano, a salesman all his life, said, “You’ll find some things require a man’s touch, Grace.”
Mrs. Dickerson was disappointed by the way some of the men in her community behaved toward her now that she was a widow. Normally vivacious, she became cautious when a man of a certain age approached her.
Still, when silver-haired Reverend Jamison, the minister at the church Grace attended stopped by, she relaxed a little. He handed her a banana bread loaf and said, “Kate made this for you and I offered to bring it by.”
Mrs. Dickerson smiled and graciously accepted the bread, but she was a bit wary now. There wasn’t a member of the congregation who didn’t know that Kate Jamison couldn’t bake worth a nickel. And, the banana bread was wrapped exactly the way the local bakery wrapped their breads.
“Thank you, Reverend, very kind,” she said as they stood in her foyer.
“Oh it’s just a little bit of nothing really. Any time you want to pray, just say the word.”
Then with a conspiratorial smile, he whispered, “I’m available too if you need to be touched up some, Grace.”
Mrs. Dickerson smiled. “Reverend Jamison, I shall be attending this Sunday’s service. I’ll be sure to personally thank Kate for the banana bread.” With that she placed the banana bread on the foyer table and pointed to the door.