Soon to Be the Last Time

By Mardy Wheeler

I have been writing for many years, having started saving everything since I was a senior in high school. My favorite teacher suggested I start saving what I was writing, and well, that is what I did and have done. As a result, I have bits and pieces stuffed in many drawers in my home office. Some I read and reread; some just sit there covered with dust. No matter what, however, I never throw any of my writings away.

I live in retirement with my husband. (Currently, we will soon be enjoying our fifty-sixth anniversary.) We live close to our children and grandchildren, have dear friends whom we love, and have a house we found more than forty years ago.

In the past, I have been active in the League of Women Voters and as a hospice volunteer. I am listed in Whos Who in America (for those of you who want to know anything else about me).

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 22, 2018
• ISBN: 9781984529831

Mardy Wheeler

Mardy Wheeler has already published three books; this one is certainly a change! The book is mysterious and not particularly amusing. It is the story of a very unhappy woman who finds love along the way. At the same time she is not only successful in her job but also successful in getting rid of a family who has always been a problem for her. The book may be difficult to put down, one you find yourself reading again, but also one you may hesitate to recommend to someone else.

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Copyright © 2018 by Mardy Wheeler.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 05/21/2018

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CONTENTS

Getting Started

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

GETTING STARTED

The rain continues to fall all weekend. This is the first weekend of the summer when one can finally spend the time on the water with friends, laughing and sharing secrets. That would happen if I have special friends, which I don’t; this would be if I know anybody, which I don’t. Well, I never asked for my current situation; therefore, I will just move out of it rather than continue to put up with it.

I’m Butler (what a ridiculous name for a girl), and I’ve always been a loner; I prefer it that way. It was the way to be when I was living with my parents and my brother at home. I never felt like a member of the family, even though I am, apparently, the firstborn (big deal). I have always been aware the family thought of me as a sort of a handy person and housekeeper. I am safe as long as I stay out of the way and do my chores—in other words, if I am taking care of everything having to do with cleaning and cooking. Actually, that has been always fine with me as long as my father and my brother leave me alone.

I have sent myself to a local university, and this is the day I graduate. I pick up my suitcase that I have left in the Greyhound bus station and disappear. It never has occurred to me to let anyone know where I am going. I have no idea myself.

I stop when I get as far as Boston. I have managed to save a good deal of money with my various jobs, all which safely take me out of the family’s home. After one night in Boston, I take an incredibly expensive taxi to Gloucester (suitcase and all). I make up for the expense by booking myself into an uncomfortably inexpensive bed and breakfast (B and B) close to the center of town.

So, dearest readers, here is my story. I hope you enjoy it as much as I have and understand it better than I do.

CHAPTER 1

Gloucester is a very busy town—busy with the catching and selling of seafood. As a result, the town is very smelly, though not uncomfortably so. I almost immediately get a job in a local restaurant. My plans are to move before too long into the position of hostess and, hopefully, co-owner before too many months have gone by.

Again, it does not occur to me to notify anybody where I am or what I am doing. I spend some time seriously thinking about whether or not to change my name but have decided it really isn’t worth the trouble.

As I have planned, my extraordinary ability (if I do say so) to fill in for every job in the restaurant—including cooking, training new staff, closing up at midnight, and remaining ever-cheerful—soon has endeared me to the restaurant’s owners. My starting salary has been discussed and increased to almost double.

Before too long, I have a plan: I wait until I know when the owners will be dropping by. I station myself by the checkout counter and begin looking at ads for employment. The owners stop in, notice what I am doing, and actually go ashen. They immediately call me into the inner office (sanctum as I call it), beg me to sit, and ask me if am happy with my job.

After apologizing for taking company time to look at the job ads, I sadly admit I am looking for a job that presents me with a bit more of a challenge. I explain I feel ready for work requiring me to oversee and to train employees. I force myself to show my then bosses a number of ideas written down about ways to improve the reputation of the restaurant, making it one that will be known throughout the commonwealth. Unfortunately, I say as I shake my head sorrowfully that I do not feel that my employers, as much as I respect them, are aware of my abilities.

I (still acting sorrowful) then stand and say I fully understand why they are ready to release me. I actually lean over to shake their hands. Instead, the owners implore me to reconsider. They have absolutely no plans to release me—quite the opposite. I try very hard to look a combination of doubtful and surprised then decide simply to sit back down and wait.

The owners insist they have been observing me at work and have been extremely impressed. They have hoped to pleasantly surprise me with a promotion to hostess. In addition, they hope I will be earning enough to shortly consider becoming a co-owner with them. In other words, they are hoping I will be able to buy a part of the ownership.

I truly try to look surprised. I thank them for their interest and their offer. I ask them to allow me at least twenty-four hours to think it over. After all, it will mean a commitment to Gloucester and its surroundings—a great deal to consider for a woman who is barely twenty-two. The owners say they absolutely understand and hope they can meet me the next evening, perhaps having cocktails and dinner in their (and perhaps soon to be my) restaurant. I sweetly agree, shake hands with everyone, and even tolerate several hugs as well.

CHAPTER 2

And of course, within the next four months, I am part owner of the restaurant. In addition, I have been able to move into an adequate apartment over the restaurant (thankfully away from the kitchen and its various odors) and looking out over the water. I have even managed to encourage the owners into believing it was their idea to let me live in the apartment pretty much rent-free.

The owners actually get the best part of the deal since the restaurant is vastly improved and very shortly becomes one of the best-known restaurants in the area. Certainly, it is known for seafood. At the same time, I have come up with a special theme—a theme that is different every month. One month it is French, the next Italian, the next Chinese, the next Venezuelan, and so forth. It doesn’t take long before reservations are an absolute must for eager diners.

Yes, I am working very hard and reaping the benefits of doing so. I always love being busy and seeing my ideas come alive. I like my colleagues; I hope soon to be in a position to buy them out. In the meantime, I am able to use them as friends and partners who can take over for me if I leave specific instructions. I am, therefore, able to get away and tour a bit around New England. I discover midweek is the best time to do this. My favorite days off are Tuesday and Wednesday.

I am certainly aware that I am thought of as a loner and someone who is a bit standoffish (I am). I am someone to be trusted but not someone with whom to share a laugh. I agree to myself that a sense of humor is not one of my biggest traits. At the same time, I find myself looking around for some sort of a companion.

It does not cross my mind I might be interested in a male companion. True, many men have stopped me at the restaurant and hoped to become acquainted, to maybe actually have a date. I am always friendly and polite and ready with the answer that I do not think it is appropriate to have a personal relationship with one of my important customers. Smiling sweetly, I somehow manage to fade away.

The more this happens—and it does often—the more I wonder how it might be to walk around town on the arm of a handsome (he will have to be handsome) friend. I spend many hours looking at myself in the mirror. I honestly didn’t feel I am very special in the looks department. But in the same time, I am not ugly either. I have nice hair and startling blue eyes. (I am told this by several of my employees, possibly just sucking up to the boss). I am only five feet four but have a good body, never having been overweight. I actually am conceited enough to think I have exceptionally nice legs, probably bought about by always having to stand on them and use them to move about in my various jobs. I certainly am on my feet most of the time I work in what I consider as my restaurant.

I wonder if finding a man—an appropriate man—is just another project for me. I quickly decide to let what is going to happen just happen and let the matter drop from my thoughts. After all, I have other things to do and other things to think about.

First of all, I decide to buy a car. One of my employees refers me to a dealer who seems delighted to have me as a customer. I assume this is the way the dealer treats everybody. I buy a small used car that appears to be in perfect condition. Before making any payment, however, I am allowed to take the car for a trial drive, which I do up to a gas station I trust. My car is declared in good condition, so I purchase it.

In addition, I decide to get season tickets to the Boston Lyric Opera and to the Emerson Theater. I decide to be in the area for a while and to make the most of it. My first trip with the car is truly a nightmare trip from Boston to the theater. It is worth the trip, but I wonder if I can simply find some sort of a ride or, better still, a train. Driving into Boston seems like some sort of hell.

At the same time, I do have somewhat of an adventure. Seated next to me at the theater is a man with two teenaged children. Overhearing them talk tells me these are his niece and nephew whom he is treating to the theater. I fully approve and feel comfortable sitting next to