The Time of Her Life (13 page)

“I’m not happy you didn’t do me the courtesy of explaining why
you sent Susanna,” he said. “We’ve got a transition period in place to establish
a relationship. Any relationship that isn’t based on trust isn’t one I’m
interested in. I get that you need to flex your corporate muscle. You don’t
answer to me. You made your point, but you undermined Susanna in the process,
and that’s not how I operate. If you’ll roll your own employees under the bus
then what’s in store for mine?”

The silence over the cell connection was complete. Whether
Gerald needed to regroup or was simply taken aback by Jay’s bluntness, he
couldn’t say. He headed across the dewy grass, where cuttings from yesterday’s
mowing clung to his shoes. The morning sounds of wildlife chirped and rustled in
the trees, indicating a day off to a much better start than his.

“No one’s trying to flex anything,” Gerald finally said. “I’m
sorry you feel that’s what’s happening.”

That’s exactly what was happening, whether Gerald owned it or
not. Add snake-oil salesman to his list of sins.

“Jay, you came to Northstar because you believed we could reach
a mutual goal. That’s precisely why we sent Susanna. The Arbors needs a
supervisor to bridge the distance between private and corporate and create a new
level of service. She’s a change agent, Jay. Smart. Professional. People
oriented. She’s experienced enough to do a top-notch job, but she also has a
learning curve, which means she’s open to the way you do things. We send in some
die-hard with a few decades of experience under his belt, and he’s going to be
set in his ways.”

The way Jay was set in his? Gerald didn’t say that aloud, but
the implication was there. Or was Jay only defensive?

“You insisted on this transitional period,” Gerald pointed out.
“One of the benefits of hanging around for six months is training your
replacement. Susanna’s open to what you’re doing there. She’s also at a time of
her life where she can give you her undivided attention.”

That much was true at least. Jay had been witnessing her work
ethic since the day she arrived on the property. And he thought he was the only
one with no life.

“I’m sorry I undermined your confidence in us by not explaining
our reasoning for sending Susanna. There were a couple of things at play there,
but it wasn’t personal.”

“What things?” Where he came from, making excuses for one’s
lack of integrity was bad business.

“There’s a logistical difference in the way we conduct
business, Jay. You’re calling the shots down there. Up here, well, every
decision makes its way up a chain of command then through the execs and the
board before it even leaves Northstar to make rounds through the execs and
boards of our partners. That’s corporate. Explaining the decision-making process
each step of the way isn’t always practical or even possible.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you sidestepped an issue I was
crystal clear about. I don’t care how long the decision took you to make,
Susanna’s been here five weeks.”

Four months and three weeks until Jay was finally out of here
until the stopwatch reset.

“Either you thought you could slip this one by me or all that
making the rounds
lets details slip through the
cracks, which means Northstar isn’t as top-notch as I thought.”

A heavy sigh on the other end. “No and no. I could have
informed you, Jay, and I chose not to because I didn’t want to make Susanna’s
job experience too big a deal. I knew once she got on the property, you’d
recognize her merit. I wanted to give you that chance.”

“You didn’t think I’d give her a chance?”

“No, I don’t. And—” he hesitated “—to be honest, I didn’t think
Susanna would take the chance if she knew she wasn’t what you were looking for.
I knew she’d love The Arbors, and I knew she was exactly what you needed. It
seemed a good time for you to start trusting us to do our part. You want what we
have to offer The Arbors, which means you need to ease up on the reins.”

Now it was Jay’s turn to be surprised by Gerald’s frankness.
Had snake-oil salesman been harsh or accurate?
Corporate
didn’t seem much better. Gerald Mayne was the kind of
executive who raked in a six-figure salary and worked up Liberals in the House.
But the man sounded so damned rational. He obviously didn’t get that Jay’s
entire life hung in the balance of this deal. He couldn’t know. Jay knew
that.

And still resented it.

Just as he reached the gate of Maintenance and Engineering, he
changed trajectory, headed back the way he’d come.

He also didn’t like how high-handed Northstar had been with
Susanna. She’d left her job and New York to take a chance she hadn’t been told
she was taking. That told him everything he needed to know about Northstar.

Jay wanted to call off this deal completely. But he couldn’t
think clearly. His feelings were too involved. He didn’t want to reset the
clock. He didn’t want to leave The Arbors in the care of a corporation he didn’t
trust. He didn’t want to thank Susanna for the past five weeks and watch that
ultraprofessional distance creep into her lovely face.

What did Jay want?

He wanted
out,
but he didn’t want
the consequences of getting out. Not when he had to deal with people lying to
him.

“Let me tell you something,” Gerald said. “Susanna isn’t only
my employee. She’s someone I care about.”

That admission came at Jay sideways.

“You care about The Arbors because of your family ties, Jay.
Most administrators won’t have that connection. They’ll think of The Arbors as a
job. Nothing more. But Susanna isn’t a nine-to-fiver. She’s a nurturer. When she
cares about something, she cares big. You’re not going to get what she can give
from anyone else. She cares about her employees. About our company. About her
patients in health care. About the seniors she served.

“She’s a natural leader. People unify under her. We’ve seen
that over and over again in her departments—”

“Then why haven’t you made her an administrator before
now?”

“Timing wasn’t right. Considered her for a couple of
properties, but she had a lot going on with her personal life. Susanna will take
whatever training you give her and turn it into solid gold. That’s who she is.
She’s young enough to meet the demands of The Arbors yet at a time of her life
where her priorities are changing.”

“I’m still listening.” That was about all he had in him.

“She’s been through a real rough patch, Jay. Her husband was
diagnosed with cancer about seven years ago. They fought a tough fight before he
died. Then she balanced family and work and single parenthood. She got her kids
off to college, and now she’s staring at a future that’s a lot different than
what she and her husband had intended. She’s at a crossroads and needs a new
direction to challenge her. She and The Arbors were made for each other. It’s
that simple.”

Jay heard what Gerald said. He didn’t want anyone else’s
well-being heaped on his plate, but he’d seen Susanna’s excitement about the
cottage, her new home. But take this man at his word?

“Give her a chance, Jay. You won’t be sorry.”

But Jay was already sorry. Sorry that a woman he was attracted
to had shown up here just as he was leaving. Sorry he had to send her away.

The silence stretched as Jay’s whole life unfolded before him.
One decision to a man who made hundreds of decisions a day, and had for his
whole life, shouldn’t feel as if he was hanging from the edge of a cliff, and
the only thing to do was let go.

Only it was a man who considered deception an acceptable tool
who was telling Jay to dig his nails in a little deeper, to hang on.

The defiance that gripped him was at odds with the cool
rationality in his brain. Jay could think, recognize the urgency for what it
was, but knowing didn’t temper the feeling one bit, the need to hit the ground
running and not look back.

Jay could almost hear his mom in memory:
“Struggling that hard is your first clue that something isn’t right,
Jay.”

Instead of feeling burdened by the idea, Jay felt as if a piece
had fallen into place, just one maybe, but a piece nevertheless. And another
thought occurred to him, another of those pieces snapping into place.

“I take care of me,”
Susanna had
told him.

Jay sure knew what it felt like to have only himself to rely
on. To be all alone in the world, even when surrounded by people practically
every minute of every day, people always looking to him to answer their
questions and solve their problems, when no one offered to solve any of his.

It shouldn’t matter, but it did. Jay couldn’t say why. He only
knew that he understood the feeling and how alone it felt.

That urgency in the pit of his gut still warred with the
understanding in his head, but the words were out of Jay’s mouth before he had a
chance to think, to question, to regret.

“Gerald, all I can promise is that I’ll give some thought to
what you’ve said and get back with you.”

“You won’t be sorry, Jay.”

But Jay was already sorry. He’d done everything within his
power to insure The Arbors would be cared for. He was sorry a lifetime of doing
the honorable thing didn’t count when he finally wanted something in return.

Circling the corner of the building, Jay stepped out in front
of Susanna’s office windows almost defiantly, knowing she’d be there and not
caring. He’d saved himself steps with this shortcut all his life, and he was
still
here....

But Susanna wasn’t behind her desk. The office was empty.

CHAPTER NINE

S
USANNA
WAITED
FOR
J
AY
to return, was
stupidly glad for every second of his absence that gave her a chance to inhale
deeply, easing up the tightness in her chest.

She couldn’t sit still and went to her door, where the daily
calendar would have been delivered into the mailbox when Tessa came on
shift.

The daily calendar was a simple breakdown of times and
activities in an easy-to-read font delivered to each resident with their
breakfast.

A reminder that life went on and everyone was encouraged to
participate. Activities dictated the residents’ days and provided framework for
the staff to schedule ongoing care and medical attention. A busy activity
calendar provided quality of life that kept residents interested in living.

She glanced at today’s calendar...
Memory
Service.

The concept was familiar. Greywacke Lodge conducted a biannual
service to remember residents who’d passed away, a memorial by friends who’d
been left behind and caregivers that—in many cases—had become fond of the
residents. Glancing at the clock, she realized the service would start shortly.
Unwilling to miss an opportunity to witness a special program, she left her
office, running into Walter on the way.

“Good morning.” She fell into step beside him. “We’re still on
for our budget variance review this afternoon?”

“We are.” His face split into a wide grin. “Got you penciled in
for one.”

“Perfect.” At least someone around here was happy to see her.
Walter might not want Jay to leave The Arbors—he’d been upfront with her about
that—but he had come to respect her work, and that had done much toward
establishing a good working relationship between them. “I’m heading to the
memory service. Does administration usually attend?”

“Always. The service is a big deal. More for the staff and
families, of course, but the residents enjoy it, too.”

Susanna understood what Walter wasn’t saying. Many of the
residents might not remember the friends they’d lost. She’d read somewhere
during her research that memory loss was actually a protection for its victims,
but made the reality all the more difficult for loved ones and caregivers.

The Arbors excelled at bridging the two. A lifeline to those
with loved ones they didn’t know how to help. That’s what she’d seen since she’d
arrived here, had been a part of.

She expected to find Jay in the lobby where the service would
begin, but found only Tessa, Shirley and Amber wrestling dozens of huge white
balloons.

A balloon Amber held popped with an explosive
blat,
and she jumped back with a yelp.

“I said
gently,
Amber,” Tessa
admonished. “You’re pressing too hard.”

Amber dropped a marker onto the table that held an assortment
of balloons and ribbons. “That’s the third one for me. I don’t think I’m going
to get this.” Flouncing away, she circled the desk and sat with a noticeable
huff.

Tessa scowled. “Robbie said folks are on their way. I’d like to
start the service on time.”

“Not in my job description.” Amber spun her chair around and
grabbed a binder from the shelves behind the desk.

Tessa was distracted when several balloons attempted to break
away and Shirley let out a loud “Oh, no you don’t” as she lunged for them.

“What may we do to help?” Susanna headed into the fray with
Walter keeping pace, glancing at her with an approving smile.

Amber winced and stared at them over the desk, her widening
gaze suggesting she hadn’t realized the new administrator had witnessed her
rebellion.

Susanna smiled cordially. She knew the drill very well as she
had a daughter of similar age. But how lovely that mother and daughter got to
share their work.

“Thank you,” Tessa said as Walter reached above her head and
caught the escaping balloons. “I need all the help I can get. Got off to a late
start this morning.”

“Just tell us what we can do,” Susanna said.

“Dietary is setting up the reception in the dining room as they
break down breakfast, so we’re good to go there. Residents will start arriving
soon. Family members of all the residents we’re memorializing will be here. The
Llewellyns are already inside.”

Almost as if on cue, a PCT accompanying several residents using
walkers appeared behind the locked doors. Breaking from the group, Susanna
handled the security panel then stepped back as the doors swung wide.

“Thanks,” the male PCT said while maneuvering his charges into
the lobby.

“Welcome, welcome,” Tessa called out. “Pablo, how about getting
everyone settled over there.” She motioned to one of the huddles of furniture
that created a conversation pit. “We’ll keep everyone inside until we’re all
here.”

“You got it, Tessa.” Pablo steered a tall woman who wore a
bright floral-print dress toward the newly designated waiting area. “Over here,
Mrs. Ramsey.”

Susanna gave the door a nudge, which triggered the mechanism
into automatic motion. The door shut, and she headed back to where Tessa was
parceling out balloons to Walter and her assistant.

There were names printed on many of the balloons.

“You release these?” Susanna asked.

Tessa nodded. “Send them straight up to heaven. Our way of
saying
we miss you.
”

Susanna was charmed. “What a lovely idea.”

“Did you have memory services at your last facility? I’d heard
they were pretty common.”

“I’m from Upstate New York,” Susanna explained. “Weather
constraints kept us indoors. Our services ran more along the lines of planting
annuals in the atrium in spring or hanging Christmas ornaments on the trees in
winter.”

“Just two services a year?”

Susanna nodded. Memory care hadn’t been the priority at
Greywacke Lodge.

“Let’s remember to keep everyone tight this time,” Tessa
cautioned, passing off balloons to Walter. “Last time we had balloons in the
oaks. I almost broke my neck getting them down.”

“Wouldn’t have been any problem if you’d have let someone
steady the ladder.” Shirley chuckled.

Tessa frowned then leveled a harried gaze at Susanna. “Is Jay
coming? He usually says a few words to start the service and introduces the
preacher.” She spun on her heel and scanned the lobby. “Who isn’t here yet,
either, by the way. Or will you be handling things today?”

“Jay had to take an important call. If he’s not back, I’ll step
in. Just introduce me to the preacher and give me a list of the residents we’re
remembering.”

Tessa nodded gratefully. “Amber, where’s the list?”

Amber pointed helpfully. “On the table.”

Susanna thanked her and went to grab it, mentally preparing
what she would say if Jay didn’t show.

Introduce the service, the
preacher...

Thank him for coming, the
guests...

Whatever Jay was doing must be really important. She genuinely
hoped she didn’t have anything to do with derailing the man from his work
today.

Cars pulled into the circle driveway. A four-door sedan moved
ahead enough to allow the SUV behind it to have access to the door, as well,
both drivers clearly familiar with the drill.

“Okay, we’ve got the Booleys and the Sagetts.” Tessa thrust the
rest of the balloons at Walter. “These, too, please. I need to greet the guests.
Amber,” she called over her shoulder as the front doors whisked open. “Radio
one-west nurses’ station and get someone to send the Llewellyns this way.”

“Got it,” Amber shot back.

Susanna saw another group of people—wheelchairs this
time—approaching. She grabbed the door again as Amber hissed to Walter, “No
one’s answering.”

Susanna noticed how Walter, that dear gentleman who wrestled
with a massive balloon bouquet, was completely unruffled. “Try Pete. He’s on the
floor.”

“And find out where everyone else is, while you’re at it,”
Shirley suggested. “We’re still missing quite a few.”

Susanna held the door, smiling and greeting residents as they
filed through, some propelling themselves forward ably, others steered by the
accompanying PCTs.

“Pete’s not answering, either.” Amber shrugged. She’d done all
she could do.

Tessa was already escorting the guests back toward the lobby,
chatting and laughing as the front doors shot wide again.

“I’ll go see what’s holding them up.” Susanna slipped past the
wheelchair brigade and headed into lockdown.

She moved with purpose through the hallways, noting the number
plates beside doors to direct her. A member of the housekeeping staff was
maneuvering a cleaning cart out of a resident’s room.

“Mr. Llewellyn’s room?” Susanna wasn’t familiar enough to
remember offhand. Might never get a chance to be.

The housekeeper nodded to the left of the nurses’ station and
said, “One twenty-six. Bed by the window.”

“Thanks.” Susanna didn’t even slow her stride, taking the
corner at full tilt in her practical pumps.

She found the room, glanced at the biographical photo of a
hearty man in a photo dancing with a bright-smiling woman wearing a country line
dancer outfit.

Joseph Llewellyn, married sixty-four years
to Elizabeth.

Father of two.

Grandfather of five.

Great-grandfather of one.

Occupation: Mechanical
Engineer.

Originally from Cleveland,
Ohio.

The bed by the door was unoccupied and neatly made, and the
visiting couple stood at the far end of the room. Susanna strode in, introduced
herself and greeted the man in a recliner wedged in an unusual position between
the beds. To be close to the flat-screen television, presumably.

“Time for the memory service, Mr. Llewellyn,” Susanna said.

“Come on, Dad. We don’t want to miss this,” the younger
Llewellyn said before glancing at her. “We’ll bring Dad.”

“I’ll see you there, then.” Susanna left the room.

The mobile medical cart was parked only a few doors down, and
Kimberly typed into a laptop opened on top of it. She glanced up from the
laptop. “G’morning, Ms. Adams.”

“Good morning, Kimberly. Collecting Mr. Llewellyn for the
service. Are we missing anyone else, do you know? Last call.”

“I think we’ve sent everyone who’s going. Ryan just took the
last group. Oh, wait, Ms. Adams. You might check Mrs. Donaire. I don’t remember
seeing her head out yet.”

“Will do,” she said with a smile, and headed past the nurses’
station to Mrs. Donaire’s room, where Susanna found a CNA applying makeup to
Mrs. Donaire’s roommate, Mrs. Previn.

“Is Mrs. Donaire attending the memory service?” Susanna
asked.

The CNA shook her head. “She’s waiting for a shower.” Then she
turned to Mrs. Donaire. “Hold up, honey. I’ll be right there. I can’t put Mrs.
Previn out on the floor half-dressed.”

The woman looked dressed from where Susanna stood, but perhaps
makeup and hair had been important to her once. Mrs. Previn was in the advanced
stages of Alzheimer’s and hadn’t interacted in a number of years, according to
the staff. But she did look lovely with her peaceful smile and neatly coiffed
hair.

“I know your shower will be worth the wait,” Susanna told Mrs.
Donaire before slipping out of the room with a smile, knowing that sort of
caring concern was priceless.

Moving down the hall toward the security doors and lobby, she
wondered if Jay had returned or if she’d need to step in.

“He’s not here,” a raised voice said from inside a room as
Susanna passed. “You don’t belong here, either.”

The distressed tone brought Susanna to an automatic stop. After
a quick glance at the biographies, she stepped closer to the opened doorway to
find a small woman with tight gray curls. She was contained within a strolling
walker, a transportation device made from a PVC frame on castors for mobile
residents who required more support than a standard walker.

“Millie doesn’t belong here.” Mrs. Munsell’s voice escalated as
she yelled from her bed by the window. “This isn’t her room.”

The gray-haired woman was wedged inside the doorway, the frame
of her transportation device not allowing for easy access past the abundance of
furnishings that transformed Mrs. Munsell’s side of the room into a cozy
Victorian parlor.

Millie turned a frantic gaze on Susanna. “Have you seen my
husband? Is he with you?”

“He’s not in here.” Mrs. Munsell was well on her way to anxiety
for all appearances. “I told you. Go look for him in your room. You don’t belong
here.”

“Isn’t this my room, honey?”

“No!”

“Oh, forgive me. I’m so sorry,” Millie said, expression
crumbling. She turned to Susanna. “He’s going to go without me. You won’t let
him go without me, will you?”

“He’s not here,” Mrs. Munsell insisted.

“Millie,” Susanna said, unclear where Millie thought her
husband had gone. “Is your husband going to the memory service?”

The woman turned a worried gaze to Susanna and shook her head
emphatically. “No, no, honey. He’s going to see Jesus, and he’s waiting for me.
Have you seen him? I don’t want him to go without me. I have to find him.”

Oh.
Susanna motioned Millie from
the room. “I’ll help you. No worries. Why don’t we go look together?”

“You’ll help me, honey? You promise? Oh, sweet Jesus, help me
find him or there’s going to be real trouble.”

“I’m sure he’ll wait, Millie.”

“Did you tell him? He might not know to wait.”

“I told him. It’s okay.”

Her wrinkled face brightened. “You really think so?”

“I do.” Susanna stepped aside to let Millie maneuver the
transport device through the open doorway.

She glanced down the hallway in one direction then the other.
“Which way did he go? Did you see which way he went?”