The Time of Her Life (8 page)

“My kids are dating.”

“Sounds like their mother might want to be, too.”

“I have not had enough caffeine for this yet.”

The path wound around the west side of the lake. Zipping past
her own office window, too dark to see inside except for the tiny red glow of
the emergency exit sign above the door, she headed toward the maintenance and
engineering building, relieved to see empty space where she knew Jay normally
parked.

She didn’t want to see him, not with all these thoughts Karan
had planted in her head.

“I have to go.” She needed to recover from their topic of
conversation.

“Susanna, seven years does not make you a cougar if he’s an
adult and not a man-child. Biological age doesn’t make that distinction.
Maturity does.”

Susanna mentally twitched.
Cougar.
Just the thought was enough to conjure visions of Jerry Springer and celebrities
older than herself who dressed like Brooke.

“You are killing me here.”

“Don’t be silly, and don’t shut me down. You’ve been alone a
long time.”

“Like I’ve had time to even think about
that.
”

“I know you haven’t had time. But I don’t want to see you blow
right past something good if the time is right.”

“Are you not listening to me? The time isn’t right. Even if I
was interested, we’re in two entirely places in our lives. I’ve raised my
family. He doesn’t even have one.”

“Does he want one?”

“How should I know?”

“You could ask... Oh, wait. That’s personal.” There was a smile
in Karan’s voice. “I’m compelled to mention that you can enjoy yourself without
mating for life.”

Susanna came to a sudden stop and stared into the mist over the
lake, unsure she’d heard correctly.

“You know what I’m talking about, Susanna. Kissing frogs,
remember? Every date doesn’t have to be a potential bridegroom.”

Susanna couldn’t even dignify this conversation with a reply.
Maybe if they were discussing another man,
any
other
man. But not Jay with the bright green eyes and charming laughter. Not the man
she had to coax past the honeymoon phase and into Northstar’s business model
with a smile on his face.

CHAPTER FIVE

D
AYS
PASSED
BEFORE
Susanna could look
at Jay without recalling that disturbing phone conversation with Karan. Days
when every smile was suspect. Days when every laugh felt indicative of whether
she needed to kiss a frog. Or wanted to.

No.

Karan was wrong there. But the rest...transitioning into a
woman who, while still a mother, could live a fulfilled life of her own. Karan
wasn’t wrong about that. Something was in Susanna’s way, had been since Skip had
died. Until she’d sold the house, and her two biggest reasons to get up in the
morning had gone off to college, Susanna hadn’t been forced to analyze the
situation too closely, too honestly. She’d been in her familiar home working her
familiar job, which had helped to balance the
un
familiar.

Skip’s death. Financial struggles. Grown kids.

She no longer had the luxury of familiar. Add to that pressure
from every angle. The kids were counting on her to create a new home base, to
continue providing. They looked to her to be an emotional anchor as they
branched into adulthood. They looked to her to financially provide all that
their scholarships and summer jobs couldn’t.

Add Northstar, who believed she’d persuade Jay to close the
deal. And The Arbors’ staff, who expected an administrator on par with the one
who was leaving. And Jay, who looked to her to transition his private facility
into a corporate one without losing the private.

Pressure, pressure,
pressure
wherever she turned.

She found herself asking: How could she transition The Arbors
when she wasn’t successfully transitioning in her life?

And Karan thought she should be worried about dating?

Only
Karan.

Susanna couldn’t do a thing but tackle the learning curve of a
property administrator. She couldn’t do anything but continue to educate herself
about Alzheimer’s care. She certainly couldn’t afford asking questions that
undermined her confidence. She needed to keep moving forward and not complicate
life any more than it was already.

Susanna found a bit of a break from her worries in the comfort
zone of quarterly reports as she prepared for the financial review with
Walter.

On the morning of the first of their formal review meetings,
Susanna arrived on the property earlier than usual. After checking in with the
duty manager, she conducted her own walk-through of lockdown. As she emerged
from the stairs on the third floor, she nearly ran into a resident on a
crack-of-dawn stroll from the dining room with plastic bags of bread stacked
high in the basket of her walker.

Mrs. Harper apparently didn’t notice Susanna, who stopped short
to avoid a collision then watched curiously as the small but agile woman with
the head full of steely curls tooled down the hall toward her apartment. Travis
and Goldie, caged parakeets who made their home in a hallway alcove, tittered
excitedly as she passed. Travis wolf-whistled, but the object of his attention
kept a slow and steady pace, not acknowledging the compliment in any way.

While the ALF portions of the facility weren’t as closely
monitored as the first floor, all three floors were on lockdown, which meant
someone knew Mrs. Harper was running around when most residents were still in
their apartments.

“That one does gets around, Ms. Adams,” the floor nurse
explained after she emerged from an apartment. “Keeps us on our toes. Wish more
residents would take advantage of the freedoms they have up here. The exercise
is so good for them.”

Susanna agreed and was about to ask about the bread but the
radio crackled and the duty manager announced, “Got the shift report done. Will
you sign off, or is Mr. C. around?”

Encouraged the management had approached her rather than wait
for Jay, Susanna hurried to the first floor and forgot to ask about the
bread.

* * *

J
AY
HAD
HEARD
THROUGH
the
grapevine that Susanna had long been on the property today, but he hadn’t seen
her yet. She’d been spending a lot of time in her office these past few days
while he’d been busy babysitting Walter, who wanted to go over the budget
variances for “one last look” for the fiftieth time before the formal financial
review, where his work would be held against a corporate yardstick.

After Jay had finally escaped Walter at noon, he was quickly
cornered in the north wing common area on the third floor by Winnie, a private
aide.

“Did you tell Mrs. Harper she can’t have the bread?”

Jay stared stupidly for a moment, mentally translating. Thanks
to Winnie’s heavy Spanish accent, her question came out sounding something
like:

“Did-a you tell-a Meesus Harper she canna
have zee bread?”

“Why would I tell Mrs. Harper that?”

“I do not know. That’s why I asked.”

Fair enough. “No. I did not tell Mrs. Harper she couldn’t have
the bread. What’s the problem?”

Winnie launched into an animated tale, and Jay caught about
every fourth or fifth word. Unfortunately, when Winnie got going, her hands
started flying and she spoke so fast a native Spanish speaker would struggle to
get the message.

Jay eventually got the gist. “No, I did not tell the new
administrator to cut off Mrs. Harper,” he assured Winnie.

A woman in the mid stages of Alzheimer’s plus an administrator
who hadn’t yet familiarized herself with all the residents’ routines made for an
interesting encounter.

“There’s some sort of misunderstanding, Winnie. Tell Mrs.
Harper I’ll sort things out and not to worry. She can pick up her bread as usual
on—” today was Monday “—Thursday. I’ll make sure Dietary isn’t throwing any
away.”

“Gracias,
Mr. C.
Gracias,”
Winnie said breathlessly. “I tell her right
now. Right this very minute.”

“You do that, Winnie, and thanks for letting me know.”

Jay escaped, heading straight for Dietary, where he let Liz
know that the long-standing order for bread still stood. Then he found Winnie
again, who explained that while she’d managed to calm Mrs. Harper down, she’d
only managed after the woman had called her son to report the grave injustice.
“I tried, Mr. C. Too late. You may geet a call from Mr. George.”

“No problem, Winnie. I’ll explain what happened.” Once he
figured that out.

After a brief appearance in physical therapy, he headed to
Susanna’s office. She sat behind her desk, squinting at the computer monitor
with a pensive expression.

He got right to business and explained the situation.

“I don’t understand, Jay,” she said. “Mrs. Harper thought I
said she couldn’t have leftover bread anymore?”

He nodded.

“Oh.” Her mouth did the most distracting things when she was
thinking. Lips parted around a breathy sound then tucked tight. She was
perplexed. So was he. This woman was his ticket out of The Arbors. Nothing more.
So why did he notice her sheer blouse stretched across her bosom as she sank
back in her chair?

“I must not have done a very good job of expressing myself,”
Susanna finally said. “I saw Mrs. Harper with all that bread and was curious.
Little lady. Lots of bread. I thought it was a good opportunity to introduce
myself, so I tracked her down in the dayroom.”

“She says her rosary there every morning. In the afternoon she
goes to the south wing. Did she tell you her son brought those rosary beads from
the Vatican? Blessed by the Pope.”

Susanna smiled. “She did. We chatted and I asked about the
bread. She never actually told me what she did with it, so I’m not sure what I
said to give her the impression she couldn’t have any more. I’m sorry there was
confusion. Do you think I should address the issue with her?”

Susanna’s offer surprised him. Admirable, but Mrs. Harper
probably wouldn’t remember by now. Susanna must not be familiar with the extent
of Mrs. Harper’s dementia. There were a hundred and twenty residents here, each
with a unique set of circumstances and a debilitating disease that progressed
differently in each and every person. It would take time for Susanna to learn
the nuances of each resident.

“Winnie calmed her down,” he said. “If her son calls, you could
explain to him. Might be a good opportunity to introduce yourself. I’d be
surprised if he called, though. He knows if there’s a real problem, I’ll let him
know.”

Susanna’s big, blue eyes softened, and Jay thought she looked a
bit relieved.

“So what does she do with all that bread?”

“Feeds the ducks. That’s where she goes every morning after
breakfast before she says her rosary. Down to the lake.”

“By herself?”

While confusion was a standard state of affairs around here,
Jay only expected to encounter it in the residents.

“I don’t think she has her own passcode, but if I find out
differently we’ll reprogram the system,” he said lightly.

She made a face, clearly not amused. “Who goes with her?”

“One of the staff takes her. Usually Tessa or Shirley while
everyone is at breakfast, but if they’re not available, then Amber takes her. Or
Walter. I’ve gone with her, too. We send whoever can be spared.”

“Have you ever approached Mrs. Harper’s son about providing the
services of a personal aide like Winnie? Winnie herself might even be available
a few extra hours a week since she’s already here.”

For a suspended moment, Jay simply looked at her. Then it
clicked. Susanna was worried about the payroll.

He cut her off at the pass. “Mrs. Harper is ninety-three years
old. Half the time she can’t remember her own name let alone her son and
daughter-in-law’s. But she remembers to bring bread to those ducks every morning
because she knows they expect her. Not only is the exercise good for her, but
Liz doesn’t have to waste bread that doesn’t get eaten. From start to finish the
event takes thirty minutes at the most.”

She frowned, but Jay wouldn’t back down on this one. Mrs.
Harper was more independent than most of the residents, and her family didn’t
need the added expense of an aide for one daily trip outdoors.

Northstar was supposed to be in the business of upscale senior
living. The property administrator they’d sent should know The Arbors wasn’t in
the business of nickel and diming the residents. And a woman who ran a
memory-care facility shouldn’t need a lecture about what Alzheimer’s cost its
victims. Mrs. Harper had lost her family and friends, had lost
herself
on most days. Feeding the ducks was a big deal
to her, one that put a smile on her face and made her feel good.

“I need a classification for the reports, Jay.”

He detected a hint of annoyance in her tone. “Classify it as
physical therapy, then, but it’s really quality of life, Susanna. That’s what we
provide at The Arbors.”

Period.

* * *

B
Y
THE
TIME
S
USANNA
had completed the financial review with
Walter, she was not only impressed by that dear gentleman’s skill at integrating
financial and operational measures, but at her own progress managing stress. To
be fair, her progress likely had to do with long hours spent analyzing Walter’s
performance measurement system and discussing how the acquisition would impact
the financial structuring of The Arbors.

Walter possessed a lovely blend of modern and traditional
financial leadership skills, balancing complex tasks of management and
investment analysis while still acting as a conventional guardian and advocate
of good planning.

Walter understood that certain things would change after the
acquisition by necessity. He also corroborated her own suspicion about Jay’s
concern about losing control.

“Boy’s between a rock and a hard place,” Walter had told her.
“He’s alone running this place since his parents died, and inheriting the job is
different than choosing the job.”

Yet he didn’t want to abandon the people in his care. That said
so much about the man Jay was. Walter’s comments hadn’t left Susanna any polite
way to ask how Jay’s parents had died without conducting an interrogation, and
Susanna didn’t want Walter to think she was gunning for inside information. But
understanding his sense of obligation to The Arbors certainly explained his
rigid and sometimes unrealistic expectations.

Trying to understand Jay was becoming a full-time
preoccupation. She could never quite tell how he would react to some procedural
suggestion she might make to bring operations more in line with what Northstar
would require. He seemed to bounce between cooperation and stubbornness without
any consistency. At least any that she could pinpoint yet.

There was still time. And the more she managed her stress, the
clearer she could think. A positive step that suggested she was finally settling
into her new position.

Sleep helped, too, and she’d
almost
managed to sleep through the nights with some help from melatonin, a natural
mineral Karan’s husband, Charles, had recommended.

Feeling rested would definitely come in handy, because she
faced a demanding day. Today’s meetings would implement a transfer of
information into Northstar’s systems for daily, weekly and monthly reports from
all departments.

She wanted to check in with the duty manager first before
sequestering herself in her office to go over her notes for the meetings.
Reaching for the radio, she flipped the switch and said, “Good morning, Pete.
This is Susanna. Where are you?”

The radio crackled and his voice shot back, “Outside Kimberly’s
office. Mr. Jankowski had a rough night.”

“On my way.”

Susanna found Pete outside the office at the CareCharter,
previewing the display. “So what’s up with Mr. Jankowski?”