Previously: I hadn’t seen my daughter for five years. Her fear of flying and dislike of Florida kept her away. It was up to the old folks to travel. Two years ago she suggested Las Vegas as a place to meet. Frank’s health made it out of the question. His legs and feet always hurt. And he refused to use a wheel chair.

In March of 2016, I get a call. Nichole's planning to see us at the end of April. She and Jeff want to see Key West. Her plan is to stay there for four days, then drive to Apopka, spend a few hours visiting her brother (for the first time in ten years). Next, the couple will drive toward Summerfield to spend  two and a half days with us. She tells me to plan places to go. I decide on a zoo that houses endangered animals.

Chapter 104 ends:

"Wouldn’t it be nice," I voiced to hubby, "if just the four of us could get together for dinner the afternoon she arrives. You and me and Chris and Nichole. No spouses or kids. Do you think she would buy that? Leaving Jeff alone for a few hours? And would Joanne be offended it we didn’t include her and the grandchildren?"

"One way to find out." Frank reached for the phone. "Call Chris. See what he thinks. He’d have to drive her to a restaurant where we would meet and then later have to drive back to Apopka."

As usual, I didn’t take his advice, but followed my instincts. Over the past two years, Nichole had started using evenings and weekends to get back to her first love—the stage. She signed up for acting and improvisation classes. Same with tap dancing. A musical theater with the latest Broadway productions opened up not far from where she worked. She bought a season ticket for just herself since Jeff hated that sort of thing. Every six weeks or so, she’d finish work, stay uptown, dine alone (with a good book), then head to the theater. She’d end up back home around twelve. Her growing independence from him pleased me.

My daughter e-mailed their itinerary. They planned to stay at a hotel in Ocala, twenty-five miles from us.

"That’s so far," I exclaimed on the phone.

"The prices are too high in decent hotels near you. Forty dollars more per night."

Back to research. I found a new hotel within walking distance of downtown Spanish Springs, a section of The Villages ten miles from us. Since Nichole and Jeff have allergies to cats, a long stay at our house was out of the question. One of the hotel rooms, a mini-suite, featured a bedroom separated from a sitting area with a couch, coffee table, a refrigerator and two arm chairs. I had the money and booked her there, paying the extra dollars. She checked it out online first and was delighted.

After that, how could she possibly say ‘no’ to my suggestion of leaving Jeff to his own devices while she joined us for a family reunion?  I told my ego to shut up and took the plunge. "Since we probably won’t see you again for a while, I thought about having a reunion with just you and Chris. Maybe meet for dinner at some quiet place." I held my breath.

"Sure," she answered right away. "That’s a great idea."

Wow! She hadn’t even conferred with Jeff first.

When I called Chris, I discovered he had been thinking the same thing. "Mom, let’s face it. More than likely this will be the last time we’re all together."

My son and my daughter connected by phone to arrange time and place. Sunday at five, we would meet at the Nancy Lopez Country Club Restaurant. Fine dining and high prices. This wasn’t the time to go cheap.

I splurged and let my hairdresser color my hair a darker shade of red and add streaks of blonde throughout. She made one streak so wide in the front, I looked in the mirror and could only think "skunk".  Not a look for me.

"You better like what I did to my hair," I warned Nichole. Like my sister Barbara, my daughter never complimented my wardrobe or writing ability or anything else.  That Sunday I dressed in patterned black and white mid-length slacks and a sheer frilly long sleeved white and black blouse.  I bought the two pieces separately, but my friends and strangers loved the look. Would Nichole comment? Well, you can’t change all the spots on a leopard. At least, she would hopefully remember to notice my hair. 

To be continued.