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However, Sunny Creek Village, it seems, is as advanced in its posturing for social hierarchy as it is in age.
The women strut, their best outfits and short kitten heels in neon colors strobing across the room like a psychedelic rainbow of sorts, and the men puff out their chests with the posture of twenty-year-olds.
There are smiles and coy looks, and my mouth has been gaping like a land-bound fish since the moment we arrived, half an hour ago.
With seating assignments emblazed on place cards at the table, for the first time since this morning, I find myself glad that Sal insisted on calling ahead to confirm with the clubhouse that not only would he and Stella be there, but Carly and I would be accompanying them.
Call me naïve, but I had no idea the kind of formal circus this whole shebang would entail until the moment we set foot in the building. Gray-haired men mingle with drinks in their hands, their flirtatious counterparts all made up to the nines with shiny, bright nails and all the jewelry they own on their necks. There’s an obvious social structure here in Sunny Creek, kind of like at a high school dance, and to both Carly’s and my surprise, Stella and Sal might just be the most popular of them all.
“Good to see you, Mrs. Dickens,” Sal schmoozes, kissing the biddy’s hand. She’s got to be at least ten years his senior and is draped in silk from head to toe. Carly looks at me with wide eyes from the other side of Sal and her mom, and I shrug inconspicuously.
She may have joked about our parents being Mr. and Mrs. Hugh Hefner at the pool earlier, but right now, tonight, I swear to God we’ve stumbled into the over-sixty-five version of the Playboy mansion for real.
“How’s Tommy? Still dealing with the pneumonia?” Stella adds conversationally.
“On and off,” Mrs. Dickens responds. “They’re pretty much keeping him in the care facility now.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Stella replies, reaching out to touch the silk-laden shoulder.
A faint bell rings in the background, and Sal reaches out to take Stella’s elbow. “That’s the dinner bell. We better get our seats.”
“Dinner bell?” Carly questions quietly to me, and I shake my head. I haven’t got a fucking clue. In all my trips coming down here, I’ve somehow managed to avoid the group dinners at the clubhouse.
“We’ll see you soon,” Stella says in closing with Mrs. Dickens, giving her a kiss on the cheek and then stepping away. Carly and I fall in step behind our hobbling parents as they make their way to the dining room, and Stella glances over her shoulder to get our attention, seeing the duration of our walk as the perfect opportunity to get us up to speed.
“Mrs. Dickens is the richest woman in this place,” she declares. “Her husband bought Apple stock at a fucking dollar, and they’ve got thirty thousand shares. And she doesn’t have kids.”
Carly widens her eyes, flicking her head to me and back to her mother dramatically. Her voice is nothing but a hissing whisper as she demands, “And why in the world would that matter to you? Have you been working her over like some kind of mark, Mom?”
Stella rolls her eyes. “It’s just smart business to be friends with the right people, Carly. Don’t act so scandalized.”
“I’m sorry, but you just admitted to befriending someone with the purpose of landing her fortune in some sort of twisted inheritance, and you’re lecturing me about how to be?”
I can’t help it, I chuckle a little, and Carly shoots eye-daggers at me. “Oh, come on, Mr. Rule-Follower, you can’t seriously be okay with this.”
I shrug. “Okay with it? I wouldn’t say that I’m okay with it. But it does amuse me greatly that even senior living communities can have such defined business and politics.”
“Excuse me, but I thought we had a deal?” Carly accuses, and I put up both of my hands in surrender. Okay, okay. I’ll deal with it.
“Dad, Stella, I’m going to have to suggest that you no longer prey on the weak of your community and their misfortune for the chance at a financial windfall.”
Carly sinks her head into her hands, and I bite my lip to keep myself from laughing. Sal rolls his eyes but waves me off with a hand of agreement, nonetheless. “Whatever, son.”
“Thanks.”
Mercifully, the walk to the main hall where we’ll be dining is a relatively short one, and there aren’t any more opportunities for our parents to sweet-talk their neighbors in an effort to rob them.
Carly’s and my seats are next to each other in between Sal and Stella, but Sal’s not having any of it and switches the cards immediately upon reading them. He and Stella sit together on one side, and Carly and I sit together on the other, Carly and her mom being in the middle.
