Out of Order

By Dee Ernst

Grace has sworn off good-looking men. As soon as she starts dating one of them, she transforms from a mature, confident woman to a needy teen-aged girl.  So when she meets Seth, the best-looking man she’s ever seen, she makes the right choice — forget all about him. But a neurotic golden retriever and a broken elevator keep bringing them together. Is the world working against her… or maybe the gods are finally smiling?

Out of Order is a short story that originally appeared in the anthology, Love in an Elevator.

• Language: English
• Publisher: 235 Alexander Street
• Release date: Dec 15, 2016
• ISBN: 9781386030607

Dee Ernst

Dee Ernst loved reading at an early age and decided to become a writer, though she admits it took a bit longer than she expected. After the birth of her second daughter at the age of forty, she committed to giving writing a real shot. She loved chick lit but felt frustrated by the younger heroines who couldn’t figure out how to get what they wanted, so she writes about women like herself—older, more confident, and with a wealth of life experience. In 2012, her novel Better Off Without Him became an Amazon bestseller. Now a full-time writer, Dee lives in her home state of New Jersey with her family, a few cats, and a needy cocker spaniel. She loves sunsets, beach walks, and really cold martinis.

Book preview

Out of Order

Out of Order

Dee Ernst

235 Alexander Street

Contents

Out of Order

Out of Order

G racie , darling, thank you again for this, Aunt Polly gushed. She glanced around her impeccably decorated apartment. Four vintage pieces of Gucci luggage stood waiting by the door. She pulled on her gloves. Aunt Polly may have been the only woman in all of Morristown, NJ wearing gloves that May morning, but I’d been watching her get dressed for most of my forty years, and I couldn’t imagine her leaving her apartment without them.

Monty will be ever so appreciative, she said, examining herself critically in her full-length hall mirror. You know how upset he can get.

Monty, who had been staring out the front window for the past ten minutes, did not even turn his head.

It’s a pleasure, I told her. I love playing at being rich and famous.

She smiled. At sixty-eight, she was still a lovely woman, her skin glowing from years of weekly facials, her hair a carefully natural shade of ash blond, her nails perfect in pale polish. Her well-toned body was clad in classic Chanel, and her ankles trim above sensible, but horrifically expensive flats. Just remember, dear, someday all this will be yours. She gave her hair a last pat. Although the famous part is up to you.

The buzzer sounded, and she reached over and picked up the house phone. Hello?

Her face was a thoughtful and serious. You’re from my car service? How do I know?

Her frown puckered slightly at the response. Easily. Tell me where you’re taking me. Surely you know that.

The frown got deeper. Really, sir, I’m a little old lady living alone. I have every right to be cautious. You could be anyone. But I guess I have to believe you. Top floor.

She hung up and shook her head. People are not very polite any more, she muttered, dialed another number, and her voice began dripping with honey. Seth, dearest, the car is here and I’ll need help. I have bags.

She hung up and opened her front door. I can’t wait for you to meet Seth. He’s simply lovely.

My hackles immediately rose. Please, Aunt Polly, I asked you not to fix me up with anyone…

She waved a hand. "Grace, calm down. He’s the new building manager. Dear Carl finally retired, and Seth is his…nephew I believe? Friend of his nephew? Something like that. He hasn’t been here very long, but he does a wonderful job and he’s so charming. You need to meet him so he won’t shoot you or have you arrested for trespassing. Now, where’s my phone?" She hurried off, but not before giving Monty and quick kiss on the top of his head.

I walked over and stared out her expansive window. My aunt did not live on Central Park West, although she probably could have. She never moved away from Morristown. She’d grown up here, her brothers and their families had all lived here, and she was only a short train ride away from the glittery Manhattan nightlife she occasionally craved. She had always managed to live in the most glamorous places Morristown had to offer, and her most recent move had put her in a spacious penthouse overlooking the Green, where George Washington himself once drilled his troops.

Just you and me again, old boy, I said.

Monty turned his head and yawned. He was as used to her travels as I was. This was the third