An Unexpected Gift

By Krista Grayce

 Janie Nolan’s future had never been more uncertain, she was just learning to live with the loss of her mother from cancer, she suddenly finds herself jobless after an unexpected diagnosis with autism at the age of fifty-five. The thought of moving back to her childhood home in the idyllic town of Cape May, New Jersey to assess her future is a daunting proposal. It is in that sleepy shore town that she must reconnect with her abusive father... Now ailing, he has handed over control of the family business, a failing small theater, as a possible means for a fresh start. However, Janie is uncertain as to what his true motives might be.

 Alec Ryan, a handsome, former intern of her father’s and now a successful Broadway producer and director arrives from New York carrying his own tumultuous past with plans to assist Janie in restoring the theater to its former glory. Along the way, Alec discovers qualities in Janie that prove she is more than just her diagnosis and resolves to help restore Janie as well, simultaneously putting his own demons to rest and learning to love again. 

 But when the small-town gossip mill begins to buzz about Alec and a piece of jewelry left by her mother is revealed, Janie learns of a secret that may take things in another direction could change the course of her life forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Publishdrive
• Release date: Nov 25, 2019
• ISBN: 9781706242178

Book preview

Krista Grayce

Krism Publishing

SPOKANE, WA

Copyright © 2019 by Krista Grayce

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Krista Grayce/Krism Publications

Spokane, WA 99224

www.kristagrayce.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

Book Layout © 2017 BookDesignTemplates.com

An Unexpected Gift. – 1st ed.

ISBN 9781706242178

Editor: Laurie Sibley

Formatting: Jerrie Fillion

Cover for this book done by Amanda Jamarillo, Jamarillo Brand Designs.

Cover Photo Lighthouse and ocean by: Jessica Casterlin

Author Photo by Kendra Fenstad

DEDICATION

To my Mom

Kathleen Fenstad

The best mother an Autistic could pray for. A true gift from God.

To my sister

Kendra Mai

For her love, friendship and unwavering support.

To my nephews

David Fenstad, Christian Hilson, Nathan Fenstad

and Kason Navarro-Hilson

Just because I love them so much.

I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

― Philippians 4:13

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Acknowledgements

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Chapter 1

If her mother were alive today, she would tell her the same thing regarding what was about to happen that she used to tell her throughout her life. It happens to all of us, she’d say, but Janie knew that she only said it so that she could feel normal.

However, what was about to occur happened to Janie more than to most normal people. So much so that it had gotten easy to recognize the signs. Her supervisor hadn’t talked to her in two days, someone was being trained to help her at her reception job, and she had just gotten caught up on all of her bills and was finally free of financial woes, so it was inevitable how this day was going to end.

It had been a reasonably good day and a relatively good week when it happened. The IM window on her computer popped up around 3:00 PM. It was from her supervisor, DeLisa. Although vague in context, she had received those ominous words so many times before that she considered having them engraved on her tombstone when the time came.

Janie, can I see you in the boardroom please?

She had a minuscule amount of hope, very minuscule. Perhaps DeLisa only wanted to talk to her about something minor. She was an agreeable person and wouldn't needlessly upset Janie. That was wishful thinking.

Janie gathered herself and attempted to calm her nerves as she rounded the corner of the large reception desk which had been her workstation for the past two years. Any hope of a simple talk or hand slap faded when she spotted Jim Martin from the human resources department sitting boldly opposite DeLisa at the showy boardroom table. The beam from the canned lighting above bounced off his unnaturally bald head and made his spectacles gleam. He sat unemotionally, slumped comfortably back in one of the rolling leather boardroom chairs as if to say, I am only here in case you throw a fit.

DeLisa Prince sat nervously on her left. The lovely, youthful African American woman wore a black pencil skirt and bright yellow J-Crew sweater set. A chunky gold necklace adorned her neck. The woman's jet-black hair adorned her pretty, brown face and neck. It was styled in long deliberate curls which fell over her petite shoulders. Janie felt enormously out of place as she sat assessing what she was wearing. She had on her black cotton sleeveless blouse that buttoned down the front, decorated with a white pencil-like drawing. She had worn her black pants of lackluster design which she had purchased at a thrift store over ten years earlier. Her discomfort with her appearance at times like this was something she had picked up when growing up with her father. Whenever he humiliated or ridiculed her, she became very self-conscious of her appearance, perhaps because she wanted to disappear, and disappearing seemed like a great idea right now. DeLisa and Janie had always gotten along very well and Janie knew without asking that what was about to happen was really the fault of Hillary Vandersloot, the Chief Operations Officer and queen bitch of the corporation.

Hi, Janie, please have a seat. DeLisa motioned to the empty chair at the end of the table. A yellow file folder an inch thick with papers was spread in front of her. She shot Janie a calming grin.

Janie sat her tall, medium frame down in the chair and gave DeLisa her attention.

Janie, we have talked before about some complaints we've had about your attitude or facial expressions and that customers found you to be rude.

Janie was embarrassed to be reminded of those things. She honestly never intended to be rude to anyone. She had promised DeLisa that she would make every effort to improve, and she had. Having lost numerous jobs in the past for similar reasons, she had begun therapy and even started on anti-depressants to calm her down. Her job was very important to her, as it was her only source of income, and she’d put extraordinary efforts into making sure she never received another complaint. To her knowledge she had succeeded.

Well, unfortunately, we have received another complaint from a customer. She said you yelled at her, something like ‘I will help you when it’s your turn, but you’ll have to wait.’ She said she felt threatened by you and was alarmed.

Janie was horrified. What?! DeLisa, I have no memory of that at all. When did this happen? Who was it? Janie's tone was low and nervous.

Well, I can't say who it was, but we really can't have this happening anymore.

Janie grew furious inside, but tried not to show it. This incident had never occurred. It was a completely fabricated story, made up by Hillary and her minions to get rid of her. It wasn't the first time that Janie had been fired due to a made-up story and she was smart enough to recognize the signs. She drew in a large, obvious breath and let it out slowly. She unclenched her white-knuckled fists and looked at DeLisa, who was obviously unsure what to expect the red-haired receptionist to say and in what tone.

Janie's tone was calm and professional. DeLisa, you know as well as I do that this never happened. She paused. It doesn't even make sense! Since we last talked, I have spent over $500 on counseling and started taking Prozac to make sure I was calmer. I have been terrified of getting fired. Why would I do something so insane that it would likely make me lose my job? Peripherally she could see Jim shifting forward in his chair as if ready to pounce.

Janie, I am sorry, but we are going to have to terminate you from your position here. DeLisa had noticeable sympathy on her face.

Janie felt a lump begin to form in her throat and her stomach felt as if she had swallowed razor blades. Just as in the multiple firings in the past, she knew there was nothing she could do or say to change their decision. She placed her hands on the conference table gently.

OK, she said. DeLisa, you know that this is not true, and this is just something Hillary is orchestrating to get rid of me.

DeLisa said nothing to deny Janie's accusation. She glanced quickly at Janie and then at Jim before focusing back on the papers in front of her.

Janie continued. But I will leave calmly and professionally out of respect for you. I don't blame you for this, DeLisa. I blame Hillary.

Jim was now standing with his arms folded on his chest.

DeLisa smiled sweetly. Jim will go with you while you gather your things from your desk and escort you out. She paused. Janie, I’m really sorry, and I sincerely wish you luck in whatever the future holds for you.

Janie smiled. Thanks.

She and Jim made their way to the front desk in the large, opulently decorated reception area. She placed the few personal items she was permitted to have on the desk in the small box provided to her. She removed her security card and attached lanyard from around her neck and handed it to Jim. The two walked to the parking lot, stopping at her car. She placed the box on the passenger side along with her purse and work bag, sat behind the wheel, closed the door and rolled down the window.

Bye, Jim… thanks for everything.

If there's anything I can do for you, Janie, please let me know.

Janie started the car and looked up at Jim. You know, Jim, there is something you can do for me.

Jim gazed back at her with a curious, questioning look.

Janie smiled, and while putting the gearshift in reverse she said sweetly, Tell Hillary I said to go fuck herself.

She drove off.

She drove closer to the Ben Franklin Bridge in Philadelphia on her way home to Cherry Hill, New Jersey, thankful that she could drive that route with her eyes closed. Her thoughts were on everything but the road. Another job was gone with the wind and she had not one hint of an idea as to why. Oh, she knew how it happened, but it hardly explained why.

Janie had started counseling a few months back and after a multitude of tests, it was revealed to her that she had high functioning autism. Apparently, she had been on the autism spectrum her entire life, but it took over fifty years, about a hundred different counselors and therapists and the loss of several jobs for someone to finally diagnose her correctly. She did a massive amount of research on her disability and had discovered not just the negatives of the diagnoses but many great things as well. It might have caused her to be withdrawn as a child and lack a social filter as an adult, among other things, but she had a very high IQ, an amazing memory, and a great ability to focus on her job. Aspies were known to be valued employees if they were in the right job.

Last month when it came time to do her self-evaluation for the yearly reviews, Janie mentioned her new diagnoses and how it could be an advantage for her, even make her an asset to the company. Before Janie could take a breath, she was being called into Jim Martin's office to tell her life story and explain how Asperger's affected her. A few days later she heard through the grapevine that Hillary had demanded that her assistant, Vicki, find something on Janie that could be used against her. Since Janie was a model employee in most ways, Vicki obviously found nothing. This new scenario had been fabricated so that Hillary wouldn’t have to employ someone with autism. Janie snorted at the thought of her now former employers’ ignorance. Truth be told, Hillary, like most people, knew nothing about how Autism manifested itself in adults and took the easiest and cruelest way out of the situation.

The word cruel stuck in her brain. What Hillary did to her was unkind but what her father would say when he found out she had lost her latest job would be ten times worse.

Janie pulled into her parking space at her apartment complex and sat with the window open as she finished her cigarette and contemplated her next move.

Today the light was unusually bright and cast the seagulls that flew east toward the sea into dark shadows against the pale blue sky. Their wings beat hard, hugging the air as they drifted. For a few moments, they had Janie’s eye, keeping her twisted into a daydream of her unforeseeable future.

Working a thankless job like a receptionist was not what she would ever have considered her dream job. She had only taken the job to keep a paycheck coming in and a roof over her head. She would apply for unemployment, of course, but there was a chance she'd be denied since she'd been fired. She would probably start applying for jobs online tonight even if any job she obtained would be temporary. Her recent track record didn't leave her optimistic about future endeavors.

It was at times like these that she would fall back on the elusive dream she’d held her entire life. Owning and operating the family business, the Seashore Playhouse, a small stage theater on the New Jersey shore.

That was what she really wanted and even at fifty-five years old, she still dreamed that dream. Her father had told her numerous times throughout her childhood and teen-age years that when he died the theater would be hers. It was what kept her going. Even as an adult when she was losing jobs and saw no hope for a family or children, the idea that she would one day own and run her own theater was her light at the end of her dark tunnel.

She attended Rutgers University and obtained a master’s in Fine Arts. She studied drama and even began to become a pretty fair singer. She loved every moment of being on stage. The reality, however, was that to really make it on Broadway you had to be able to dance and an accident in childhood had robbed her of that ability. It had been a bittersweet reality when she discovered that getting parts in the plays she wanted was not going to be easy for a mildly plump redhead with a limp.

It seemed whenever she auditioned, she was disappointed. She had auditioned for many plays and was cast often, but never in the roles she wanted. She always had to settle for roles as old, decrepit homeless women of the 18th century, crippled drug addicts of the eighties, and other pathetic characters. She was lucky once though. In 1986 she was cast as witch #3 in an off-off-off Broadway production of Macbeth.

It wasn’t long before Janie had to close the door on her acting dreams and begin trying other jobs just to keep her head above water and out of Milo’s house. It was at this time she began to take jobs as receptionists, telemarketers, call center representatives, and bill collectors. She had even tried a stint as a restaurant server. This ended quite predictably, of course, when there was a small altercation with a patron that ended in Janie throwing a large order of steak fries loaded with cheese and ketchup at the man’s Armani suit. That was the first in the long line of firings she would experience, ending most recently with her release from Hillary Vandersloot’s talons.

Shaking herself out of her trance, she calculated her finances in her head and instantly felt panic shoot through her veins like laser beams. She had few options. She could look for another dead-end job in Philadelphia, or worse she could work two dead-end jobs. That was just not a viable option. Janie felt she had sacrificed having a husband and children by working all those hours over the past twenty-five years. She wasn’t prepared to do that again.

The other option was to go down the shore to her hometown and greatest love, Cape May, New Jersey where she could enjoy her summer on the beach. However, the latter would require biting the bullet and telling her father of her recent firing in order to stay at his house, the house where she grew up, the House of Horrors.

She squashed out her cigarette in the ashtray. The warm rays of the spring sun came beating through the windshield, making her sweat a bit on her forehead. She heard the hum of the vibrating cell phone in her purse. God, please let it be Bridget, she prayed. Bridget Walters was her lifelong best friend. She needed to talk to someone who cared about her right now.

It wasn't. It was her Dad. God had an ironic sense of humor.

Hi, Dad!

Hi, Janie, how are you doing?

Oh, I'm okay. Janie tried to sound upbeat when she spoke to Milo, making her an expert at deception.

She feigned concern for his health. What's up? Are you okay?

I should ask you the same thing. I was expecting your voicemail. Figured you'll be stuck in traffic on your way home… Did they let you go early today? Milo's tone indicated he already knew what happened.

Janie inhaled strongly and quietly as she spoke. Sort of, Dad. They let me go… period.

Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, kid. Milo's sympathetic response was surprisingly genuine. But you’ll find something else. You always do. You'll do fine, honey.

Thanks, Dad. That means a lot.

Besides, this kind of fits in with the reason I called.

There was a pause and Janie could hear her Dad’s cat, Queenie, meowing in the background. Milo said he had to go feed her and he did so as he laid out his request to his oldest daughter over the speaker phone.

I won't be able to use the house this summer. Dr. Jackson wants me to stay in an assisted living home for a while so I can receive constant treatment for my heart condition. I was wondering if you would like to come down for the summer months and take care of the house.

Dad, that would be great!

Milo said, I’ll take care of the utility bills.

What about the theater? she asked hopefully.

Well, I’ve made arrangements for that. I'll explain it all when you get here. Your brothers and Kellie are all coming down within the month and I would like to get you all together to discuss some things. Milo sounded out of breath. So, what do you say?

Janie wasn't good at making snap decisions. What about Fergus? she asked, concerned about her big tabby cat and feline best friend.

Bring him! Queenie gets along with all cats.

Images of seashore walks, beachcombing for shells, and sparkling two-foot waves crashing on the shore drifted into her mind. She could almost feel the warm wet sand enveloping her toes as she sat reading a good book on the beach every day.

Yeah, Dad, I’ll be there. How about if I come down next weekend?

That sounds great. And don't worry about the job thing, it'll all work out. You'll see.

Not exactly the response Janie expected from him. Janie was surprised that a conversation had just transpired between them without an insult or a joke.

She had spoken too soon.

Keep your chins up! Milo howled with laughter at the cruel joke he made at the expense of his daughter who had struggled with her weight for years. It was Milo's favorite ammo to use against her.

Ha, good one, Dad, she lied to shut him up.

Okay, I will see you next week.

The call ended and Janie made her way into the apartment to start packing.

Janie packed for vacation much more meticulously than most people. She made checklists for morning, noon, and night. Categories included bedtime, night time, casual, and bath needs. She wrote down what she would wear every weekday and on the weekends, every possible weather scenario, and even created a list of possible objects she would probably forget if she didn’t write them down. She organized every item in her large rolling suitcase, utilizing every section and pocket it had. She laid everything out on her bed and then moved it all into the bag in the same order. The entire process took her most of the evening. She then made a quick cleaning of her apartment. She put holds on her mail, power, and cable services, placed Fergus in his carrier, loaded the car, and hit the road. By 9PM she was headed for the Atlantic City Expressway toward the shore.

It was bizarre for Janie, arriving in Cape May and planning to stay at her family home on Washington Street. She came down every summer and stayed with Bridget in a rental house, but she tried to stay away from her father’s home to avoid the memories of the house but still enjoy the town as a tourist. Cape May, being a historical landmark, never changed and that’s what she loved most about it. She treasured everything about the seashore town. The privet hedges accented the large shade trees and front lawns of the ominous Victorian homes. Every spring, tulips and daffodils graced the front yards. It was the sound of seagulls overhead, coupled with the soft tinkling of wind chimes that adorned the front entrances of many of the houses that really made it restful for her. These sounds would forever remind her of spring and summer afternoons growing up there with her Mom, siblings, and Bridget. The lavender paint on the Nolan home had faded since she had last seen it, but this was typical for the painted ladies of Cape May. All of the houses needed repainting every year due to the damage from the salty sea air.

She exited her car, pulled Fergus, asleep in his cat carrier, out of the back seat, retrieved her suitcase from the trunk, and made her way up the large Victorian staircase. She raised her hand to knock on the screen door, but she stopped when she realized there would be no one home. She used the key that her dad left her under the mat and entered the Nolan residence.

The next morning, it took her about a half a second to realize she was waking up in the place she used to call the House of Horrors. Slowly and reluctantly she uncovered her face from beneath the sheets. She blinked her eyes and blinked again. Streaks of sunlight penetrated the window and blinded her. She sat up, dragged her feet off the bed, and rubbed her knuckles into her eyes. She stretched her arms above her head and yawned as she watched her legs dangle above the dark brown hardwood floors. Looking around at the large bedroom, it was as if she'd never been there before. It was different than she remembered. Thirty years had passed since she resided here. Mom was gone and that made Janie want to cry, but Dad had moved out and that made her want to do cartwheels.

Seagulls were calling her outside the windows. Their cries welcomed Janie home. She felt she could not rest in that house without hearing their voices high in the morning breeze outside. They were brazen and never shut up. She could relate to that; they were her kind of bird. Their sharp squawks soothed her as they always did. The Cape May beach, light from the lighthouse, and those crazy birds, was all she needed to remain calm and content.

She could hear the cars driving down Washington Street. The sun glowed through the bay window and a sea breeze was blowing the long white sheers into the room from an opened window. In a few weeks, it would be Memorial Day weekend, the beginning of tourist season on the shore, and thousands of shoobies would be arriving from all over Pennsylvania, New York, and Delaware to enjoy the cool ocean waters as well as the old-time features of the town.

Janie was eager to visit the beaches and lighthouse before the crowds came in. She showered and dressed in a pair of denim Bermuda shorts and her favorite white, button-front sleeveless blouse. She carefully gathered her shoulder-length auburn hair into her usual high ponytail. The tendrils that fell around her temples helped to accent her sparkling green eyes that reminded her of her mother with every glance in a mirror. She applied mascara and eyeliner and closed her make-up bag. She wasn't looking to impress anyone these days, so she had long ago stopped wearing the face make-up and leaving her hair down.

She turned off the lights upstairs and made her way down to the foyer. It always took her longer than most people to tackle staircases. The accident at age twelve had left her with a crushed tibia and a noticeable limp. These days Janie felt it gave her character and made her stand out. She was that pretty redheaded girl with the limp. She might never run a marathon, climb Mt. Everest, or even act on Broadway but she was okay with that.

Pushing through the white wooden screen door and out onto the porch she lit up a cigarette and leaned over the banister. With a cigarette dangling from her fingers, she sighed long and hard and ended it with a smile. She forced herself not to feel self-pity for losing another job. Milo was right, she’d find another one. Finding a job was always easy for Janie; it was keeping them that was problematic. But for now, she was going to make these lemons into lemonade just like her mother always did. She was determined to enjoy this summer if it killed her. She could spend every day on the beach or reading down by the lighthouse. This might even be the year where she would volunteer at a local nursing home or homeless shelter, the way her mother always had.

Janie had inherited her unshakable compassion for others from her mother. There was never a moment in her life where she wasn't observing her mother provide warmth and compassion for someone else. If it wasn't for her own family, it was for complete strangers. Kate Nolan was well-known in town for her constant quote of the Irish proverb A little empathy is better than a lot of charity. Kate treated everyone like family. Neighbors, shopkeepers, the painters who worked on the house and theater every summer, neighborhood children, the interns Milo employed at the Seashore Playhouse who came from various countries summer after summer, year after year, and of course Janie's best friend, Bridget. In many cases, Kate had become a summer or even year-round mother to everyone who needed some compassion, advice or even money. Kids all over the neighborhood were envious of the attention her mom showered on Janie and her siblings. This was going to be her chance to finally be the kind of person she knew her mom raised her to be, a person who put others ahead of herself, and who knew that the best way to gain God's favor was to show favor for others. Just being in Cape May gave her a peculiar calmness and a much welcomed closeness to her mother’s memory.

Walking back inside, Janie stopped and looked around at her childhood home. She needed to make it as much like her own as possible and conversely, less like her father’s. The first thing Janie wanted to do was clean and organize the house. Dust was thick on everything from the staircase to her mom's china closet in the dining room. The sun shining through the sun porch windows illuminated the dust dancing in the air.

The kitchen wasn’t going to take much time at all. Milo kept this room highly organized. It had been remodeled since Kate died due to a flood from some frozen pipes. In true Milo Nolan fashion, all the appliances were state of the art and the cupboards were hospital sterile white. All over the counters there were neat stacks of Rubbermaid containers in various shapes and sizes containing chips, pretzels and candy. The refrigerator was cleaned out spotlessly and all the perishable food from the cupboards had been removed, put into boxes marked food bank and placed on the back stairs. That was a trait that Janie got from her father which wasn't all bad. Her favorite motto was A place for everything and everything in its place. Next to the refrigerator on the counter, also in true Milo form, were about ten cans of cat food stacked neatly, alternating flavors and ready for use. The cat bowls were drying neatly in the dish rack. The sight gave her a jolt and made her stomach jump to her throat.

Oh my God! Where is Queenie?!

She had the same reaction every time something happened that might make Milo angry. A gut-wrenching sensation that was worse than being seasick.

At that moment there was a knock on the front screen door.

Halloo! a small Italian-American woman with hair that resembled a large grey cotton ball stood at the door. She was wearing a cotton house dress and fuzzy slippers and was pressing her protruding nose up against the screen. Is anyone there?

Janie came around the corner and saw that it was Mrs. Colasuonno from across the street. Everyone called her Mrs. C for obvious reasons.

Hi, Mrs. C! How are you? Please come in, said Janie as she opened the screen door.

I am fine dear, how are you? You look beautiful. Janie and the woman embraced gently.

"That’s