The Time of Her Life (10 page)

And
she
was Northstar.

“This is business, Susanna. You know that. Jay’s in a tough
position. No question. He’s used to calling the shots at The Arbors and he wants
to make sure he covers everything. But his micromanaging isn’t going to work
during this transition. That’s why you’re there—to build a bridge between the
old administration and the new. You’ll help him understand why things are
changing so he can make peace and move on. You’re the best person for the job.
We’ve decided that, and you work for us. Don’t second-guess yourself.”

Susanna stared into the night, wrapping her brain around the
fact that she was being used to manipulate Jay. She understood Northstar wasn’t
going to answer to him. She understood they wanted to flex their corporate
muscles in an area that would drive home that subtle point and shift the balance
of power to their side.

She understood the corporate mentality. But they should have
known they were asking for trouble given Jay’s involvement in hammering out this
deal. If they weren’t going to honor Jay’s specific request, they should have at
least owned responsibility for the choice.

He might have insisted on having things his way or he might
have allowed himself to be persuaded to try things Northstar’s way. No matter
which way he’d chosen, the situation would not have blown up in
her
face.

But Susanna knew that corporate operations were corporate
operations, and she was down on the food chain. Gerald’s explanation told her
everything she needed to know. Her opinion would not reinvent the way Northstar
operated.

But she was hurt by his disregard for her personally, and quite
honestly, for Jay, too. Maybe he was micromanaging, but only because he cared.
So much. He’d gone above and beyond to handle Northstar with integrity, but
Northstar hadn’t returned the favor. Why? Because they knew how much Jay wanted
to leave The Arbors? Or because they didn’t take his demands seriously?

Susanna didn’t know.

“Let’s see what Jay does next,” Gerald suggested. “He’ll either
push the issue or back off. The ball’s in his court now. Let’s leave it there.
You proceed exactly as you’ve been unless I tell you otherwise. If it’s taken
Jay this long to realize you’re not an old hand at memory care and property
administration, then you’re doing everything right. There’s still plenty of time
to reassure Jay The Arbors is in good hands. You’ll do that without trying too
hard. Do you hear me?”

“I hear you.” The words were all she could manage past the sick
feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Okay, then enjoy the night and I’ll let you know if I hear
from Jay. Otherwise, just keep doing what you’re doing. Everyone at corporate is
content with the progress you’re making down there. That’s all that
matters.”

No, Susanna wanted to say. That wasn’t all that mattered.
Instead, she said, “I hope you’re right.”

After disconnecting the call, she rocked back in her chair and
willed the night breeze to cool her clammy skin and the unfamiliar sounds of the
forest to soothe her anxiety.

She’d considered Gerald a friend, but apparently when
friendship and business collided, business took precedence. No matter how
Susanna viewed the situation, she still came back to feeling as if Gerald had
used her to manipulate Jay.

A property administrator with experience in memory care.

Was that really unreasonable? Susanna didn’t think so. Jay was
the best person to make that determination about The Arbors. Not only was he the
person who knew the place best, but he was the person who cared the most.

Susanna couldn’t help but remember the way Jay had sat beside
Mr. Jankowski’s bed during the examination. He’d explained what was happening in
his calm voice, why it was okay. And now that Susanna viewed the situation
through the filter of Jay’s insights about memory care, she understood what he’d
been doing—bridging the distance between Mr. Jankowski and an unusually busy
room with lots of unfamiliar activity.

In many regards, his care of Mr. Jankowski—and that of
Kimberly, Pete and Dr. Smith—hadn’t been any different than the level of care at
Greywacke Lodge. All employees brought something different to the table, but the
bottom line was about meeting the residents’ needs. The caring environment was
one of the things she enjoyed about working in senior living.

Dealing with Alzheimer’s meant the care went one step further.
Would she learn to gauge a resident’s needs with the sort of instinct Jay had
demonstrated today? Or was instinct inherent to a man who’d been reared in this
environment? If that was the case, then Jay had every right to worry about who
succeeded him, because no one could replace him.

Not her. Not anyone.

And that was the real tragedy, because so many people relied
upon him. Why was he determined to leave?

Susanna didn’t know, but she wanted to.

* * *

J
AY
AND
THE
DOGS
CLAMBERED
up the gallery steps to
the house. If he’d have known he would be coming home this late, he’d have left
on a porch light.

His home had never felt quieter than it did in the dark, such a
striking contrast to a long day in the busy facility, always noisy but for the
rare occasions of illness quarantine.

The instant the door opened, the dogs rushed past him, making a
beeline for the kitchen and dinner.

“Like I’m starving you,” he said to no one in particular as
Butters and Gatsby were long gone, their nails tapping over wooden floors in the
distance.

Flipping on lights, he strode through the foyer, glancing at
the mantel inside the drawing room as he passed.

He remembered telling Susanna about his mother’s obsession, but
wasn’t sure where that impulse had come from because he honestly couldn’t
remember how long it had been since he’d noticed the mantels. Since before his
mother had died, at least. Three years. Where had all that time gone?

Jay knew the answer—The Arbors.

He hadn’t lived one minute, just kept waking up every day,
doing what everyone needed him to do, meeting everyone’s needs but his own,
walking by his mother’s mantels without even seeing them or any of the memories
inside this house. He couldn’t reclaim a second of that lost time, but he could
stop losing more. He went through his nighttime routine.

Feed the dogs.

Change out of his work clothes.

Grab dinner if he was hungry, a beer if he
wasn’t, and get started on his chores.

Something always needed to be done around here, which answered
the question about why he hadn’t thought about those long-ago excursions hunting
for treasures. If he had, he’d have moved on long ago. These old houses were
nonstop work. No wonder so many were torn down when there was no longer family
willing to deal with the constant upkeep. He wasn’t willing anymore, either.

Tonight was definitely a beer night. Maybe even a two-beer
night after Susanna’s surprises.

Independent living.

He still couldn’t figure out what to do. She had seemed so
promising. The perfect property administrator. Or had he only seen what he
wanted to see because he was so damn desperate to get out of here?

To be fair, she had seemed perfect on the surface. She learned
quickly, was organized and worked well with the staff. A good administrator from
all appearances. He’d meant what he’d said about her work. She was good.

Good wasn’t enough.

The new administrator needed the compassion to care and the
experience to handle the unexpected situations that arose with the residents,
their families, the staff.

The new administrator needed a strong foundation in facility
administration and memory care. With those pieces firmly in place, he or she
could then learn all about the things that made The Arbors unique and steer the
facility into the future in step with evolving Alzheimer’s care.

The Arbors couldn’t be allowed to simply become a care facility
for its residents, a place for them to mark forgotten time, cared for in a safe
environment so family members didn’t have to worry.

That was never his grandmother’s intention. She wanted to
provide quality of life and that meant staying on the cutting edge of research
and making a difference in the fight against the disease.

Jay had been barely living up to the family legacy. Barely. The
new administrator would come in, backed by corporate muscle that would provide
the resources to continue the fight. He wasn’t deluding himself into thinking
this would be an easy role to fill, which was why he’d gone to Northstar in the
first place. They were unparalleled in management staffing and had experience in
top-notch senior care.

If any company could produce a person capable of replacing Jay,
Northstar could. But instead of the perfect administrator, they’d sent Susanna,
who needed on-the-job training. Jay wasn’t opposed to providing that training,
either, but six months couldn’t possibly replace years of experience and
familiarity with Alzheimer’s. What happened after Jay left? What happened when
something unexpected came up and he wasn’t around?

Why did everything have to be so damned complicated, anyway?
All Jay wanted was to move on. A new career. A new home. A new life with people
in it who could remember his name or didn’t always need something from him.

He wanted to be out from under the nonstop work, the
never-ending obligation. He wanted to do something other than slave over this
place night and day. He wanted to wake up one morning, blow off work and take
the dogs to the coast.

He wanted to reconnect with friends and kick back with a beer
in the middle of the afternoon to watch a game. He wanted to go to bed one night
without the seven thousand things he
hadn’t
accomplished during the day cluttering his brain.

Was that really so much to ask?

Butters and Gatsby abandoned him to sleep off their turkey
dinner on the sofa in the family room. Had his grandmother been alive, she’d
have shooed them off the furniture. They’d have shooed, too—until she turned her
back and they hopped on again.

Jay didn’t bother. “You two rest after your tough day.”

Opening the beer bottle, he headed upstairs to remove the
baseboards in his grandmother’s bathroom. If he got them off tonight, he could
wipe them down with bleach to kill any mold growing on the plaster after the
flood last weekend, compliments of a broken ball cock.

Not a big deal, just one more pain-in-the-butt problem that
dictated every minute of every day when he wasn’t in the facility. Jay supposed
he should be grateful to do anything that didn’t involve scheduling 250
employees or reviewing budget reports or selling The Arbors’ services to
potential residents’ families. But he’d inherited home improvement as a hobby.
He’d rather be kayaking.

What difference did moldy baseboards make, anyway? For all Jay
knew, Northstar could level the house and all this effort would be wasted. But
could he pursue the acquisition when Northstar was yanking his chain?

The baseboard snapped in his hands.

“Damn it.” Now he’d have to replace it. Or try to, because like
everything else around this antiquated house, replacements were always a
problem. The standard size of everything from 1888 didn’t translate into the
twenty-first century. Not a baseboard. Not a breaker. Not a nut. Not a bolt.

Not even a property administrator.

“Damn it,” he said again because it made him feel better.

Dropping the baseboard on the floor, Jay leaned against the tub
and took a deep swig of beer.

Was it really too much to ask for Northstar to send an
administrator with more than thirty-five beds worth of memory-care
experience?

With some actual
administrator
experience?

Sinking his fingers in his hair, he pushed it back and tipped
the bottle to his lips again. If Northstar got someone else in here, someone
experienced
this time, Jay would have to start
the transition period over again. Five weeks wasted.

He’d lived his entire life in this house and now he honestly
didn’t know if he could survive another six months.

God, he was tired. Too tired to even try to sift through his
options. He didn’t see any.

Fight with Northstar then trust them to provide what Jay had
originally asked for?

Look for another management company? Northstar was supposed to
be the best. They were definitely the largest that staffed senior living
facilities, some even exclusively memory care.

Except for Greywacke Lodge.

But finding a replacement for Northstar—if one existed—would
take the one thing Jay didn’t have to give—more time.

“So you’re saying you won’t close the deal
if you’re unhappy with Ms. Susanna Adams?”

Walter’s words seemed so prophetic now. How could Jay not have
noticed her inexperience?

That was the one answer that came easily tonight. He hadn’t
been looking closely enough at her skill set because he was too busy looking at
her. Her delicate curves and her sweet smiles and listening to her silvery
laughter. She was one very beautiful distraction.

And he was so desperate to feel some spark of life that he’d
been rushing into work every morning, suddenly not minding all the sameness and
the demands. He’d told himself the burden of this place had felt lighter because
the transition period was finally underway. He could see the end in sight.

But he realized now he’d been seeing Susanna.

He was so damned starved to feel something other than the
crushing sense of obligation that he’d only seen what he’d wanted to see and
ignored the rest.

What a pathetic commentary about his life.