Introduction.
At Wendy's request I have begun a fictitious chronicle of the place where a certain widow chose to reside shortly after the death of her husband of 64 years. It is fictitious, any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.
Chapter 1
A series of fortuitous events allowed our heroine to find herself in a gated community called Shangri La, somewhere in Southern California. It was October, but although some leaves were falling, there was also much tropical vegetation, lofty palm trees, towering birds-of-paradise, hibiscus, succulents and carefully tended roses everywhere.
The gated community housed at any given time somewhat less that 800 people. There were two clubhouses, north and south, two swimming pools, one outdoors, the other and indoor pool and spas with sauna and exercise room adjoining. Each clubhouse had its own dining room and kitchen, with terraces where in the warmer months, residents could dine outside, to the soothing sounds of falling water. There were koi ponds, and large turtles that sunned themselves with legs outstretched.
A paradise indeed.
Our heroine, who shall be called Mifanwe, arrived behind the moving van in a Tesla driven by her son. The movers were directed to place what furniture had been selected from her previous home in the small two bedroom villa she had managed to secure. The mattress went on the floor. The queen size bed frame would come later. The king size bed had been left behind.
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