Tales of Vintage Hollow - Book 1 - The Bus Trip

The Bus Trip

My name is Carol White, I'm 75 years old and I live at Vintage Hollow. What is Vintage Hollow you might ask? Well, it's a sixty and older apartment complex in Grafton, Massachusetts. It's very nice. Everyone has his own apartment. On the main floor is a wonderful dining room where three meals a day are served. Think of it, girls, no more cooking. Of course, there are some weirdos living here, after all, it isn't paradise. I really didn't think I would ever need a place like this with my two children living close by.

Well, was I ever wrong.

Two years ago my daughter Doris got a divorce and moved to Los Angles to open a dress shop with her friend from college. Then, last year, my son Brad informs me that his company is sending him to Atlanta.

Bye bye, daughter-in-law and my grandchildren. I really don't care about my daughter-in-law that much, she was such a know-it-all, but I miss my grandchildren.

Then one day they realized that they had left Mommy all alone, and they came back like storm troopers.

"Ma, you can't stay in this big house all by yourself," said my daughter.

"Doris is right," said my son. "You have to go somewhere safe. Of course, that means selling the house."

"I'll tell you something," I said. "I'm not moving in with either of you. We all know it would never work."

The look of relief on their faces was almost comical.

Well, it happened very quickly. The house got sold and after looking at what felt like a thousand places

I settled for the Vintage. My first day there was very hectic, and after the kids left I took a little nap. I woke up around four o'clock and wondered for a few minutes where the heck I was.

"Oh, you are a Vintage girl now," I said out loud. I opened up my front door and peered out into the hallway.

Just then, the door across the hall opened and a woman with a smiling face greeted me.

I said, "Hi, my name is Carol."

"I'm Agnes," she said.

"You know, Agnes, I just moved in today, but I heard the rumor that they have a happy hour here. Is that true?"

"You bet it is, I was just heading down there now. Please join me."

I did and we became BFF as they say today. We did everything together, including all kinds of trips.

One night after dinner, as we walked by the front desk, I noticed a flier describing a two day trip to Vermont.

"I love Vermont," I said. "Look, Agnes, we would be staying at the Green Door Inn. Let's sign up tomorrow."

"Count me in, I just hope the trip is not sold out."

Well, we didn't have to worry, only twenty people signed up. Instead of a beautiful, luxurious bus, we got stuck with a mini van and, woe to us, Old Ned was our van driver. I had never ridden with him, but I had heard horror stories about his awful driving.

Awful does not even begin to describe his driving. Awful, would be a compliment, that's how bad it was. We did arrive safely at the Green Door Inn and were pleasantly surprised at how beautiful it was. They had a delicious lunch awaiting us and our room couldn't have been nicer. Yet, I did notice how surly the desk clerk was, though. According to his name tag, his name was Bob. Well, Bob, I thought, I'm glad that I don't have to deal with you.

That evening we went to a nearby restaurant for dinner and then to a wonderful play at the local playhouse. This is such a relaxing trip, I thought.