Moving Maggie (eBook)

A Midlife Moxie Novel

Nancy Christie (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
312 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3509-9259-5 (ISBN)

Infos

The year Maggie turns sixty, she is hit with a triple whammy of unpleasant and definitely unwanted events: the loss of her job, the ending of her marriage, and the need to find a new place to live. 'Move-Ahead Maggie' has lost her moxie and can't figure out where to go or what to do with the rest of her life. After her move to a small rural community, she becomes so focused on regaining her financial stability and professional status that she is afraid to make time for a personal life and possibly even a romantic relationship. Can Maggie find the courage to open herself to having a richer, more balanced life?

Nancy Christie is an award-winning author of fiction and nonfiction books, including her Midlife Moxie novel series. Her short stories and essays have appeared in numerous print and online publications, with several earning contest placement. Christie is the creator and host of the Living the Writing Life podcast and founder of the annual 'Midlife Moxie' Day and 'Celebrate Short Fiction' Day. She teaches workshops at libraries and writing conferences and offers presentations on various topics to groups and organizations. Christie, an Ohio native, is a member of the American Society of Journalists and Authors, the Women's Fiction Writers Association, and the Florida Writers Association.

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The year Maggie turns sixty, she is hit with a triple whammy of unpleasant and definitely unwanted events: the loss of her job, the ending of her marriage, and the need to find a new place to live. "e;Move-Ahead Maggie"e; has lost her moxie and can't figure out where to go or what to do with the rest of her life. To reclaim her identity, she moves to a small rural community and starts fresh. Her growing friendships with Sheila, her real estate agent and now employer; neighbors Mary Dearborn and her granddaughter Janna; and Carl Price, her landlord who may be becoming more than just a friend, help her navigate this new stage of her life. But as she rebuilds her life, Maggie becomes so focused on regaining her financial stability and professional status that she is afraid to make time for a personal life and possibly even a romantic relationship. Can "e;Move-Ahead Maggie"e; find the courage to open herself to having a richer, more balanced life?

Textauszug

Chapter 1

“Take the next right just ahead.”

Sheila’s voice, coming from the passenger seat, broke the silence in the car, startling me. I had been driving for so long on the empty country lanes that I’d stopped concentrating on the road and instead had been focusing on the path my life had taken. Or more accurately, the unforeseen, unexpected, and definitely unwanted detours that had shifted me from the life itinerary I had been following to a wholly different one.

Usually Sheila did the driving, leaving my mind free to go back over the events of the past few months while she took me to one rental possibility after another. As my real estate agent, she was in charge of all things related to finding me a new place to live. But when I arrived this afternoon at her office in Eden, her SUV had a flat, so rather than delay our excursion while waiting for road service, I offered to drive.

It was my way of asserting control, something I seemed to have had precious little of in the past few months. I thought about my meeting a few weeks ago with my financial advisor to evaluate the status of my small investments to determine whether I could afford to live to age ninety. Or eighty. Or seventy-five.

“Life is full of possibilities” was the firm’s slogan, but I hadn’t found that particularly heartening since my possibilities weren’t all that positive.

I used to be a very forward-thinking, organized person. I used to have a plan for my life. But then, I used to be happily married and gainfully employed. Now I was neither and, on top of all that, had to find a new place to live.

That’s how I met Sheila Jones, owner of All the Best Realty. I needed a real estate agent who dealt with short-term rentals, and her company was the first that popped up when I searched online. I had already settled on Eden—a quiet northeast Ohio community close to several of the bigger cities that I planned to target in my job hunt.

I could have stayed in Bradfield where Mike and I had been living—found a smaller condo and concentrated my employment search right there. But I wanted a fresh start, and moving to somewhere completely different seemed like a good beginning for the new Maggie Cartwright, even if I wasn’t sure who she would be.

“Do you want to rent or buy?” was Sheila’s first question when I called, and I immediately answered “rent” since buying required my being in a better emotional state than I was at that moment and probably would be for some time.

Ending a twenty-five-year marriage wasn’t easy, I thought as I took the turn Sheila had indicated. It brought up a whole range of feelings: grief, fear, and anger—just to name three. But once Mike broke the news in June that our marriage was over and he wanted to sell the condo, I had to get past the shock and move into the next phase: finding a new place to live. Which is what brought me to the little burg that was Eden—as far a cry from Bradfield as one could imagine and far enough away to eliminate the likelihood of running into my soon-to-be ex with the woman who had replaced me.

Once was enough, I thought grimly, recalling a chance meeting at the restaurant where Mike and I used to eat. I had stopped there late on a Wednesday after a long, grueling workday at St. Mary’s to pick up the take-out meal I’d ordered before I left the hospital. But on my way out the door, holding my container of Chicken Française and wild rice, I ran smack into Mike and the person I assumed was “the other woman” given that her hand was holding his with a possessive air I couldn’t miss.

She looked younger than both of us by several years and certainly more stylish than I did at that moment. Her long black hair was elegantly caught in a loose chignon, and her slim body was dressed in a sophisticated outfit I knew cost far more than I would be willing to spend even if I had the fashion sense to select it.

I nearly dropped my Styrofoam container, and the only marginal satisfaction I got from the encounter was the look of shame that briefly crossed Mike’s face as he introduced us.

“Maggie, Saundra. Saundra, this is my—I mean, this is Maggie.”

I left before he could say anything else and drove back to our condo where I tossed my dinner in the trash—along with my appetite and pride.

“Maggie, look out!”

Sheila’s voice brought me back to the present just in time to dodge a tree limb on my side of the road, a victim of one of the late August thunderstorms.

“We’re here,” Sheila announced, gesturing to a small farmhouse straight ahead. “Just pull up to the walkway.”

Obediently, I followed her instructions and once I parked the car, looked at the front lawn that, at first glance, could use a little attention. The beds had more weeds than flowers and the yard needed mowing. It certainly lacked curb appeal although, I realized as I looked in the rearview mirror, the same could be said of me, noting the gray strands that threatened to overtake the blonde ones and the face devoid of makeup.

But that wasn’t the only similarity, I thought wryly. The house was at the end of the road, and so, in a sense, was I.

“Well, what do you think?” Sheila asked. “I know it’s not at all like the other places I’ve shown you, but you did say you wanted a change from condo living. Still, I was a little concerned because it’s about an hour’s drive from—where is it you said you work?”

“St. Mary’s Hospital,” I answered, then paused. “Well, technically, that’s where I did work until last month. I took early retirement,” hoping to end the questioning about my job.

I didn’t want to go into the whole long story about how St. Mary’s had been bought out by a larger hospital system that made my position as marketing/communications director expendable since everything would now be coming from the corporate office. The deal was a good one: six months of severance pay and three months with a recruiter to help me find a new source of income. But it wasn’t quite good enough since I had to cover my own medical insurance until I became a Medicare baby—a long five years away. Not to mention I wouldn’t have Mike’s income to help with the expenses once the divorce was finalized in a few months.

“Good. Then commuting won’t be a problem,” Sheila said. “Although you will need to provide three months’ rent in advance in lieu of proof of employment.”

She looked at me, and I nodded. “Good. Then shall we go in?” And without waiting for my response, she got out of the car and headed toward the house.

I always wanted a front porch, I thought encouragingly as I followed her. The apartments I’d lived in never had them, and even the condo Mike and I had bought after we married only had a narrow balcony, barely big enough for a bistro table-and-chair set and the smallest gas grill he could find. And this was a real porch—a wraparound one, I realized as I mounted the wooden steps—and there was even a swing hanging from the ceiling.

It reminded me of my grandparents’ home where I’d spent summers as a child. Warm and comforting, a place that gave off a sense of security. Just what I needed at this insecure and uncomfortable time in my life.

But don’t be too optimistic, I cautioned myself. You haven’t even been inside.

“Remember, you’re renting, not buying.” Sheila’s words uncannily followed my train of thought. “Carl Price, the owner, took over the house after his mother died, but he didn’t want to live here, so he’s renting it out for the time being until he decides whether to sell. He’s offering a six-month term, but it’s renewable if both parties agree.”

She unlocked the heavy oaken front door with its stained-glass window inset and led the way into a large entryway, stopping to shut off the alarm. There was a coat closet to the right of the door, while on the left was the living room, complete with a fireplace and a basket of kindling next to it. I tried to picture crackling flames dispelling the chill of autumn evenings but all I could imagine were flames burning a hole through the roof while firefighters vainly tried to quench the blazing creosote.

“Already been inspected,” said Sheila, responding to my unspoken worries. Was I that transparent, or was she just that good at addressing the concerns of prospective clients? “The HVAC system has also been checked, and it’s good to go. Now, down the hall is the eat-in kitchen, and here to the right,” sliding open twin pocket doors, “is what used to be a dining room with a family room behind it adjacent to the kitchen. But after his father had his stroke, Carl’s parents converted the two rooms into a bedroom suite since he couldn’t manage the stairs anymore and added these sliding doors for privacy.”

They had done a nice job, I thought. The late afternoon light streamed through the casement windows, bathing the room in a warm glow and reflecting off the surface of the mahogany furniture: the old-fashioned sleigh bed, the handcrafted curves of the dresser and highboy, the dressing table with its upholstered bench.

A far cry from the furniture style that Mike and I had chosen for our condo, yet it fit the room and the era of the house itself.

Maybe that’s what I needed right now, something dramatically different from the place where I had lived with Mike. Something that wouldn’t remind me of the life I was leaving behind and, for that matter, the future I had once...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 7.3.2025
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
• ISBN-13: 979-8-3509-9259-5 / 9798350992595