The Time of Her Life (12 page)

“No. Nothing like that. He was shocked, and unhappy.”

“Then he’s the idiot. You’re a gem.”

“I’m not what he asked for. He’s trying to make sure the level
of care here doesn’t change for the residents or staff.”

“If he doesn’t want things to change then why is he selling the
facility?”

“The question of the day for which I have no answer.
Personally, I think he’s nuts. I can’t imagine leaving here.”

There was a thoughtful silence on the other end of the line.
Karan said, “Jay isn’t happy yet, Suze.
Yet.
He
hasn’t had time to discover how lucky he is to get you. Your bosses sent you
there because you’re perfect for the job. They should have informed Jay. You’ll
just have to convince him yourself.”

“
If
Jay doesn’t call off the
acquisition or demand another property administrator. Northstar chose a poor
time to flex its muscle, and now I’m in the middle. There’s so much riding on
this acquisition, not the least of which is my career, my income, my children’s
educations, my proximity to my kids and the roof above my head.”

“Calm down, Suze,” Karan said. “Breathe.”

“I was taken off guard, I suppose.”

Well, that was true, even if it wasn’t the whole truth. The
real truth was just bubbling up inside her, begging to burst free. She knew
Karan would help make sense of what Susanna was feeling the way she always did.
But the very memory of crushes and dreams made her stomach swim nauseously.

She couldn’t give life to that feeling. Not now. She couldn’t
handle one more thing.

Not one.

“Maybe I thought I was more ready for a change than I really
am,” she admitted. “All I know is that if the acquisition doesn’t go through,
I’ll be out of a job and a home.”

“
That
job and
that
home,” Karan pointed out. “Northstar will move you if things
don’t work out. The legal department won’t let them do anything else. Trust me
on this.”

“Northstar has properties on the West Coast. I could wind up in
Seattle.”

“Suze, that’s not—”

“And will they give me another chance as a property
administrator? Or would they make me a CFO again?”

Without the property administrator salary, she’d be right back
to struggling to keep up with dorm costs and meal plans and car repairs and auto
insurance.

For all she knew Northstar might be annoyed Jay had recognized
her lack of experience. They might demote her into accounting. How would she
refuse until she found another job? In the current economy, that thought was
downright frightening.

“I can’t tackle unemployment right now, Karan, not unless I’m
planning to live off the equity from the house.”

That equity was everything she and Skip had worked and planned
for. Her
only
asset besides her retirement anymore.
There’d be penalties for early withdrawal from her mutual funds, not to mention
supporting the kids and herself would blow through her assets before Brandon was
even a junior.

No, if The Arbors didn’t work out and Northstar offered her a
job in Timbuktu, she’d take it.

And regret leaving Charlotte, because Susanna couldn’t imagine
any place as perfect as The Arbors. The hotellike luxury of other senior-living
facilities was no comparison to the sunrise beyond these windows, the sky
streaked in deep pinks and blues, the paling horizon of the rising sun.

She could always start up a side business, Susanna reminded
herself. She was certified and could bring in good money freelancing accounting
jobs, particularly around tax season, to supplement any loss of income. Karan
would graciously assist with capital if Susanna would let her, and what else did
she have to do besides work, anyway? Kids were gone. Dog was gone. House was
gone. Husband was gone.

“You know, Karan. I can’t figure out why this move never felt
like such a gamble when I accepted it.”

“Suze, you need to—”

“Maybe it simply never occurred to me I might fail. Not very
practical for a practical person, don’t you—”

“Susanna!” Karan interrupted in a tone Susanna had never heard
before. “You stop right now. I know exactly what you’re doing—you’re
catastrophizing,
and it’s unproductive. You’re
psyching yourself out and making things feel bigger than they are. Knock it off.
Now.
”

It took Susanna a moment to react. “Did you say
catastrophizing?
”

“Yes, catastrophizing. I shouldn’t have to explain the concept.
It’s self-explanatory.”

Susanna wasn’t even sure
catastrophizing
was a real word, but the concept was indeed
obvious.

Along with Karan’s concern.

Okay, not only was such practical advice a departure, but a bit
of a role reversal for their relationship, which had endured for so many years.
Years of Susanna’s practicality contrasting Karan’s no-holds-barred whimsy. The
reality of need contrasting the idealism of possibility. Survival honed
endurance while privilege fostered restlessness.

Neither had been a road easily traveled; both ways had been
pitted with potholes. But she and Karan had supported each other through
marriage, divorce, remarriage, birth, life, death. Their friendship was still
going strong, weighted now with maturity and life lessons.

“Seattle, Suze?” Karan laughed. “You better hope not because I
won’t visit. That weather destroys my hair. But, I’ll tell you what. If you wind
up jobless and homeless, I’ll pick up a place on the outer banks so you can be
near the kids. Charles keeps mentioning getting something further south so we
can travel more easily to his family in Tampa. You like the beach, and so does
my goddaughter.”

Okay, the world was right again. Real estate as the solution to
all life’s problems. Classic Karan.

“You want me to call the real estate agent?” she asked.

“No. But you’re right. I’m catastrophizing. Thank you for
pointing it out.”

“No thanks necessary. Just
stop.
”

“I will. Promise.” A promise she intended to keep.

The sun chose that moment to emerge over the horizon, shafts of
gold shimmering across the lake’s surface, penetrating the mist rising from the
water.

The start of a brand-new day.

A fresh start on a day where anything was possible.

Even Karan calling at the most unexpected but perfect moment
and dispensing uncharacteristically practical advice.

That’s when it hit Susanna—there was something here, something
particularly unique to The Arbors.

Hope.

That’s what Jay fought hard to protect, was afraid to let slip
away. Maybe that’s what she needed to prove to him—she understood what The
Arbors was all about. Not paperwork or procedures or federal regulations.

The Arbors brought hope to people and their loved ones who’d
lost hope with the diagnosis of Alzheimer’s. That’s what The Arbors provided,
and it was far more valuable than the caregiving.

“You’re the best, best friend, Karan. Have I told you that
lately?”

“Just returning the favor,” she said.

“Well, enough about me. Why did you call again at this ungodly
hour? I’m sure it wasn’t to listen to me come unglued. Did we get to that part
yet?”

Bubbly laughter filtered through the line. “We did, Suze.”

“Did we?” Funny, Susanna couldn’t remember.

“I just missed my best, best friend, that’s all.”

There was something more in that admission, Susanna was sure.
She had no idea what. But she totally appreciated the sentiment and said,
“Ditto.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

J
AY
COULD
HAVE
CALLED
Gerald Mayne from home had he programmed the man’s direct line into his
cell phone. Hadn’t ever occurred to Jay he might need to. He was so used to
operating out of his office—
former
office—he didn’t
carry a laptop or briefcase. Wasn’t like he ever left.

But that was his first mistake: he’d given his office away to
the wrong person, and now all the information he needed to work was locked
behind Susanna’s door, where he would need her permission to get at it.

His second mistake was that he’d taken Northstar at their word.
Gerald Mayne had talked up Susanna as the perfect new administrator. He’d told
Jay everything about her qualities and strengths, the respect she commanded from
her coworkers, how valued she was as a corporate employee.

Jay could see how all of that was true. But Gerald had left out
a few important details, and Jay, after meeting Susanna, had allowed himself to
be distracted by her, amused by her, impressed by her, and had never questioned
any further.

He wasn’t sure whom he was angrier with—Northstar for ignoring
his wishes or himself for never questioning their word, which completely smacked
of desperation.

Desperation meant what was going on in his head wasn’t lining
up with the way he felt. He blamed Northstar for getting everyone’s hopes up,
which was another bone to pick with Mayne.

Northstar had set everyone up for disappointment. Susanna. The
staff. And after a night of brooding, Jay was still angry as hell, but he knew
he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t make the call. He’d promised Walter
to do what was right. The staff expected no less from him, either. He’d have to
figure out some way to deal with the extension. A few more months wouldn’t make
any difference.

Except to him, because he had a future waiting for him at the
end of the six-month transition. He would travel. See some of the places he’d
missed while slaving away in Charlotte. He’d take that beach trip he’d missed
when he was a high-school senior, after Drew had gone, when Jay hadn’t had the
heart to leave Gran alone because she refused to put Mom in the facility one
second before she had to.

Only he wasn’t heading to Bermuda but Tahiti with tiki torches
and beautiful women in grass skirts.

Then when he got bored of the beach, he’d finally make the trip
to Ireland to see his mom’s cousin, who had invited him to visit when Jay had
been younger.

He wasn’t sure where he’d go after that. He’d always wanted to
see the rain forest and ski somewhere with awesome slopes. Just depended on how
he felt. The dogs would be bunking with Walter until Jay figured out where he
wanted to settle down, and once he got the travel bug out of his system, he’d
decide where he wanted to call home—anywhere but North Carolina.

The thought of his plan inflamed his anger all over again. Damn
Northstar for their nonsense. This entire situation was inexcusable. Jay booted
Walter’s desktop and located the number. He placed the call, which rolled
straight to voice mail since most offices wouldn’t open until the start of the
business day. He requested an ASAP return call.

He hadn’t even disconnected when a familiar voice said, “Good
morning, Jay.”

Turning, he found Susanna showcased in the open doorway, as
beautiful and fresh faced as the brisk air and sunrise that had accompanied him
on his walk to work this morning.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Her gaze fixed on the phone he held against
his ear.

She quickly stepped into the hall.

For an instant, he felt as if a kid caught with his hand in the
cookie jar. “No, no, don’t go. I’m done.”

That distracting blue gaze darted past him to Walter’s desk.
She was jumpy. It was all over her from the way she’d ejected from the office to
her tight smile.

Another heaping helping of guilt,
anyone?

“Mr. Jankowski seems to be on the mend,” she said. “Wasn’t sure
if you knew.”

He shook his head. “Haven’t touched base with anyone yet, but
I’m glad to hear it.”

“So where are we today, Jay?” Her tone was no-nonsense
ultraprofessional, a perfect match with her business suit. “I’d like to address
what happened yesterday, and if we’re still moving ahead as scheduled. I didn’t
want to tackle data transfer if we’re changing the plan.”

Oh, he was changing the plan, all right, which would eliminate
the need for her to do anything. Add
a lot
of guilt
to the list of things he shouldn’t be feeling for this woman. Not for making a
choice best for the people who depended on him.

But not best for him, unfortunately.

Handing Susanna the key, signing the papers, packing his bags
and getting the hell out would be best for him.

“So, how are we going to handle this situation?” she asked,
which actually meant:
Are we still going through with
this?

Jay had the wild thought that he should call this off right
now, before they got in any deeper. He’d waltz in tell his staff,
Just kidding, folks! False alarm.

They’d all be relieved. Change never came easily. Management
would be thrilled. Walter would say,
About time you came to
your senses, boy.

But that would mean
he
had to stay
here running this place until he dropped dead or lost his mind, whichever came
first. He refused to waste any more time. He’d given the first thirty-two years
of his life to The Arbors, the next thirty-two were his.

The honorable thing to do was tell her. He would be diplomatic
and make sure she understood his decision wasn’t personal. But when Jay opened
his mouth to explain, only a very dishonorable “I’m still weighing the
situation” came out.

Weighing the situation?

By the time
that
registered in his
rebellious brain, he was staring into her beautiful face, saw the desperate
relief all over her exquisite features as she asked, “My office?”

He could practically feel her relief across the room. He wasn’t
sure why. Maybe he was delusional, cracking under the pressure of more
obligations.

The residents. The staff. Walter. His
unavailable brother. His dead grandmother. His dead mother.

Susanna.

He nodded, afraid to open his mouth and say something else to
get him in any deeper.

Returning the phone to his belt, he followed her, rationalizing
his actions. A discussion with Susanna’s boss wasn’t cowardice but the
appropriate place to begin the proceedings. His deal was with Northstar
Management. They’d chosen to change the plan, so they would have to inform their
employee. That wasn’t Jay’s place.

He didn’t feel any better.

A quick procession through the administrative corridor
emphasized the change between them, impossible not to notice, a huge change from
the easy camaraderie of the past five weeks.

“Why don’t you sit there? It’ll be easier to work.” She
motioned him toward his former chair behind his former desk.

There was no mention of coffee, although he could see her mug
sitting in a place of honor atop the water dispenser, a cylinder of the instant
coffee she liked perched against it.

He did as suggested and fixed his attention on the system,
squelching his conscience and ignoring the way she shimmied around the desk with
a few sure-footed moves, a contained grace unique to her.

She was making a difficult situation even more difficult.
Especially when she dragged a chair around the desk.

He stood to offer assistance with the bulky chair. “Let
me—”

“Got it, thanks.”

She wasn’t accepting his help today. He remembered what she’d
said when they’d first met.

“I take care of me.”

He should be grateful, he supposed. Distance was for the best
since he’d already placed the call, and this situation would be awkward enough.
But he felt anything but distant with her beside him, so close he inhaled the
fresh scent of her hair as she leaned across the desk. Was there anything about
her that
wasn’t
distracting?

“Excuse me,” she said. “Just let me grab my notebook. I need to
take notes to figure out what you have compared to what I need.”

She wouldn’t need anything, and he guessed she would handle
that knowledge with the same ultraprofessional demeanor she was using to handle
him right now.

Why she was so determined to be independent? Because she’d had
to be since losing her husband?

Jay was back to wondering about her again.

Why
didn’t make any difference. His
future was far away from The Arbors. Susanna Adams wasn’t a part of it.

So he sat there maneuvering through screen after screen,
explaining the data, trying not to feel guilty or cowardly and failing
miserably, the same way he was failing to ignore the way wisps of her hair
trailed his cheek when she leaned close to type in a password on the
keyboard.

Oh, he was aware of her, all right. Straight down to the pit of
his stomach.

“Want to go through the management reports now?” he asked,
determined to focus on the computer if it killed him. “You’ve already seen most
of them.”

“I know everything I need is in your system. I need to identify
what you’re calling it versus what Northstar calls it. Then we can figure out
the best way to instruct the staff to make this as simple as possible.”

But nothing about the situation was simple. Not the decision to
let her go. Not his awareness of her. Not his own urgency to turn over The
Arbors to someone qualified to run it.

He glanced at the computer display—
9:02
a.m.

Why hadn’t Mayne called yet?

“You’re making this harder than it needs to be,” he said more
sharply than he intended. Anger was getting the better of him. “Every function
leads back to the hub, which makes your job easier. Trust me. Northstar’s system
design is prehistoric. Looks to me like they keep building onto an archaic
program. They should ditch this entire system and design one that streamlines
the process instead of wasting valuable management hours compiling all this
unnecessary data.”

Susanna blinked those big blue eyes at him but couldn’t seem to
think of anything to say.

He sighed inwardly and tempered his tone as he scrolled through
the system map. “Personnel. Med data. CareCharter. Accounting. Administrative.
Maintenance. You can access everything that goes on here. Press one button to
download.”

She jotted instructions on her notebook, but her only reply was
a quiet, “Got it.”

The system prompted for her password again. She depressed the
Enter key as he steadied the keyboard, and their fingers accidentally brushed,
warm skin against warm skin.

He could feel her touch straight down to his crotch.

She pulled back as if she felt the awareness, too.

Great. What a mess.

When his cell phone beeped, he couldn’t decide who was more
grateful, him or Susanna.

“I have to take this.” He maneuvered around her as she slid
back her chair to make room, giving him a choice shot of those shapely legs in
the process.

“Canady,” he growled into the receiver while making his way
through the door.

“Gerald here, Jay. Returning your call.”

Pulling Susanna’s door shut behind him, Jay got straight to the
point. “We’ve got a problem.”

There was a beat of silence on the other end, then, “Sorry to
hear that. What’s up?”

Jay headed for the emergency exit at the end of the corridor.
Inputting his passcode, he shoved the door wide, dragging in a deep gulp of the
morning air, suddenly able to breathe again.

“I remember being specific about my needs when we hammered out
the preliminary arrangement.” He made a supreme attempt to sound professional
when every breath seared his larynx.

“This is about Susanna’s experience, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“Jay, before we go any further, be reassured I heard everything
you said about the sort of administrator you felt would be best suited to run
The Arbors.”

“If that’s the case, then maybe you’ll explain why you sent
someone with no memory-care experience. She hasn’t even run a facility
before.”

“I considered everything you said, Jay. So did the board and
the attorneys and the execs with Rockport and University. We all want this deal
to pull through as much as you do.”

Not even close.

“We’re achievement oriented at Northstar,” Gerald continued.
“We want to meet your needs and reach our goal at the same time. Our goal is
your goal, Jay. You came to us because we’re a corporation you can trust to move
The Arbors into the future. A corporation you felt would do the job right.”

“You don’t have to tell me.”
Or sell
me.

Clearly, Jay had been wrong. God knows it happened.

“You’ve got the experience for sure,” Gerald said. “But as the
administrator of a private facility. We’re looking to expand the definition of
service at The Arbors. That’s why you came to us. You trusted we’d be your best
bet to accomplish that goal. That’s my point, Jay. You
can
trust us.”

Gerald was on the offense, ready to run the ball. Jay should
have known Susanna would have already spoken to her boss.

“How’s that? I asked for one thing and you sent me something
else entirely and didn’t bother to mention it.”

“Is that the issue here? That we didn’t inform you?”

Gerald’s question trivialized Jay’s concern and made him sound
petty, which spiked his anger big. But while Jay ran a private facility, he ran
an efficient business. Top-notch care. Consistently balanced budgets. If
Northstar didn’t want to chuck this acquisition out the window, they’d better
reevaluate their approach right here and now.