Unexpectedly Hers(41)
“Of course. I suppose you’d like to sneak one or two before I take them into the rec room?” Emma set the trays on the information desk and got introductions out of the way. “Buddy, this is Director Henley.” And then to Ms. Henley, she said, “Buddy has the waivers that you and the residents who are interested in participating need to sign. The rest of the crew is still outside taking some pictures and such. Can I take Buddy to the rec room?”
“Certainly,” Ms. Henley said as she quickly scanned and signed a waiver. “We’ve asked those residents not interested in being in the film to avoid the rec room during the next ninety minutes.”
“Perfect.” Emma lifted the trays and led Buddy deeper into the facility. She expected a handful of folks to be waiting. Much to her surprise, at least thirty had decided to participate. Emma noticed the extra frisson of energy pulsing in the otherwise staid room.
Mari had been right. Unlike Emma, many people craved the spotlight. No doubt some of them would be talking about this day for months or years to come. A near-weepy kind of gratitude for Wyatt’s offer to come crept up on her and pressed against her heart.
“Good afternoon, everyone. I must admit, I’m wondering why I don’t inspire this kind of participation on a regular basis. Do you all have something against bingo?” she chuckled as she set the trays out on two tables. “This is Buddy. He’s one of the cameramen, but before the crew can record anything, they need you to sign waivers granting permission to be filmed.”
Quiet murmuring and head bobbing commenced as Buddy passed around the waivers. Moments later, Wyatt and Ryder entered the room, trailed by Mari and Jim. It took Emma ten seconds to remember that the cameras were rolling, and she’d better be on her best behavior.
“Everyone, this is Wyatt Lawson, an International World Games and Winter eXtreme Games slopestyle gold medalist.” Emma grimaced. “Yikes, that’s a tongue twister, isn’t it?”
Some of the elderly clapped to welcome him, and Wyatt waved and nodded. Emma noticed Ryder standing off to the side. “His brother, Ryder Lawson, also a former competitor, is with us as well.”
Another round of applause welcomed him, earning a rigid bow of his head.
“Good afternoon, everyone. I’m Mari, the director and producer of Xtreme Transformation. Thank you so much for consenting to participate today. We hope you have a little extra fun with us. Before Emma begins your normal activities, I wondered if any of you might have questions for Wyatt?”
“Actually,” Wyatt interrupted, “I had a different idea. There’re enough details about my story out there on the Web. I’m happy to answer any questions later, but right now I’d like to turn the tables a bit. I know why I’m here in one of the prettiest ski towns I’ve ever visited, but I’d like to know what brought you here, and what made you stay. And any other interesting things you’d like to share. So who wants to start?”
Sounds of hearty approval swept through the small crowd. Mari, on the other hand, looked like she’d been force-fed a handful of Sour Patch Kids. Luckily, she wiped her expression clean before it got caught on camera.
Emma had to hand it to Wyatt. He’d just made her beloved elderly friends’ day by giving them the spotlight. His ego, while healthy, seemed more than willing to make room for others. Selfishly, she wished it weren’t true. It’d be easier to keep her distance from a jerk, after all.
About two-thirds of the audience raised their hands, including Mrs. Pellman, who tossed Wyatt a very flirtatious smile from her wheelchair.
“Let’s start with you, beautiful. What’s your name?” Wyatt walked over and took a seat beside her.
“Oh my, young man. You are handsome!” came her emphatic, if warbled, remark.
Wyatt laughed and cocked his head, waiting for her to speak. Emma found herself becoming a little breathless, not only in anticipation of what might next tumble from Mrs. Pellman’s mouth, but also from the way Wyatt so naturally made her the center of his attention.
“My name is Florence Pellman.” She folded her hands neatly on her lap and nodded, like a stern teacher. “I was born in Denver in 1922, and I married my Bernie when I turned eighteen.” She paused and extended a bony finger toward him. “He looked like you.”
Emma watched Wyatt suppress a look of surprise. Based on old photographs she’d seen, Bernie Pellman had looked nothing like Wyatt except, perhaps, for having wavy, dark hair. Love is blind.
Mrs. Pellman continued, obviously savoring every second. “But Bernie had to go fight in the war right after we got married, so I went to work at the Denver Ordnance Plant, which made ammunition. It stayed open twenty-four hours a day. We were the only plant in the country that made .30 caliber ammunition.” She fell silent as if to allow the rest of the room time to pay homage to this detail. “My friends and I worked all the time, doing our part for our men. I quit once Bernie came home safely. After all that battle, he wanted peace and quiet, so we left the city and moved here. We had four kids, Bernie Junior, Steven, Robert, and Maureen. I was married for sixty-two years, and now have twelve grandchildren and three great-grandchildren. Maureen lives here in town, but my boys all went to college in New York and Boston and stayed on the East Coast, so I don’t see them very often . . . except on the FaceTime.” She shrugged—a “what can you do” kind of gesture.