by Pat Simmons
Tabitha had foolishly thought she was self-sufficient based on her financial stability, healthy lifestyle, and intellect. Aunt Tweet’s diagnosis was evidence that wealth couldn’t buy good health. Initially, the what-ifs had plagued all three sisters as they berated themselves for ignoring the signs of their aunt’s forgetfulness during phone calls.
Even Aunt Tweet was in denial that something was wrong after she got lost in her hometown of Philly. “Oh, it was a combination of my medicine and this extreme heat that made me a little disoriented,” she had said, playing it off.
Days after that harrowing experience, Dr. William Murray evaluated Aunt Tweet and confirmed the sisters’ fears. “Miss Brownlee has moderate signs of dementia. At this stage, you can witness bouts of poor judgment, mood swings, personality changes, loss of interest in hobbies, difficulty communicating, long- and short-term memory loss—”
“This doesn’t sound good,” Kym had said, shaking her head and cutting off the doctor.
“It’s not. Alzheimer’s is a cruel disease,” he advised. “And a person can live years with it.”
“Wait, I thought you said she had dementia,” Rachel asked.
“Alzheimer’s is a disease and the leading cause of some of the dementia symptoms I’ve outlined. Other diseases can cause the same symptoms, like Huntington’s, Lewy body dementia, a stroke, or a brain injury. Remember, the symptoms are caused by something. They don’t just pop up,” Dr. Murray stated.
But they did just pop up, Tabitha thought. None of them had seen this coming.
Dr. Murray had suggested prescribing Aricept and Exelon to slow down the progression of some of the dementia symptoms. Her sisters had immediately defaulted to Tabitha for the drugs’ stats. As a pharmaceutical sales rep, she knew that every drug had its side effects.
Tabitha had collected data and created spreadsheets on the five most common medicines on the market. She had their drug names, brand names, adverse side effects, drug interaction, and whether they were FDA approved. Many of the medicines to treat dementia symptoms were still in clinical trials. Others were too new to have a track record. She had hesitantly consented to one medication, not both.
“Only time will tell if she needs more,” Tabitha whispered to her reflection in the mirror. As she dismissed further thoughts of drugs, diseases, and research, somehow Marcus’s face resurfaced. What was the deal with him? It wasn’t her concern. She had enough on her plate with Aunt Tweet, so as long as they stayed out of each other’s way, they could live in harmony in Pasadena Hills.
Leaning closer to the mirror, she noted the evidence of not getting enough sleep, which was rule number one on her beauty regimen. With a sigh, she applied more concealer under her eyes, finished the rest of her makeup, then headed downstairs to prepare breakfast.
Since her arrival, Aunt Tweet had taken over the kitchen, and Tabitha had no qualms about relinquishing the task. Her aunt had a flair for cooking—at least her memory hadn’t robbed her of her culinary masterpieces, yet. But this morning, Tabitha wanted to make breakfast for her aunt, so she’d woken up early. She rattled pans in the kitchen until she yanked out a cookie sheet she preferred for biscuits. Not long after slipping them in the oven, Aunt Tweet appeared, fully dressed and wearing mismatched shoes—one teal and the other yellow. The floppy, red hat was in one hand.
“If you don’t stop slamming those dishes, I’m going home.” Her aunt fussed as she took a seat at the table.
But you can’t, Tabitha thought sadly.
* * *
“Don’t mistake kindness for weakness.” Marcus locked eyes with the man on the other side of his desk who was five seconds away from becoming an ex-employee because of his disregard for punctuality. He needed this distraction after pulling that stunt at Tabitha’s yesterday. What had possessed him to cruise through the neighborhood three times, looking for trouble and signs of the two women? Checking on the welfare of neighbors was the excuse he’d given to Tabitha, and it was as good as any. That’s the story he was sticking to until he could figure out why he gave them a second thought after their run-in yesterday.
When Victor Graves blinked, so did Marcus, forcing his mind to stay focused.
Since Victor’s release from prison, he had worked for Whittington Janitorial Services for almost two years; however, his good work history was in serious jeopardy. There was something about the young father of two that always swayed Marcus to give him the benefit of the doubt and treat him as a mentee or little brother. Not this time. Marcus had on his boss hat and was ready to terminate an employee. “I don’t like to throw our generosity in your face—”
“But you are anyway.” Crossing his arms, Victor leaned back in the chair as if he were the one in charge of his payroll.
Flaring his nostrils, Marcus scowled. “Don’t play games with me. All you have to do is arrive here on time, and I don’t care if you hop on a bus, take an Uber, or ride a tricycle. Our shuttle vans drop you off at the front door of the office sites for cleaning.” Counting on his fingers, he listed other perks WJS offered. “Did you forget the child care—”
“It ain’t free.” Victor leaned forward as if putting Marcus in check. “You’re taking fifty bucks out of my check a week.”
Really? Did this dude realize his job was on the line? “Stop using it and see what child care costs for a one- and a three-year-old.” He grunted. “You make more than minimum wage, so help me understand why those benefits aren’t incentives for you to want to keep your job?”
Victor remained silent.
“I have applicants vying to take your place. Give me a reason why we shouldn’t suspend you.” It had better be good, he thought, waiting for a reply.
The buzz about the working culture at Whittington Janitorial Services had generated a waiting list of prospective employees. He and Demetrius paid their workers, many of whom were single parents, more than minimum wage and they operated day and night child care on site. Their workers were rewarded with a $100 bonus every quarter if they deposited a certain percentage of their weekly pay into savings. These perks nurtured employees’ loyalty and pride in their work.
“Fire me,” Victor taunted.
If Demetrius were in the room, Victor’s wish would have been his brother’s command. But Marcus saw potential in the twenty-five-year-old. “Where will you live? What would your babies eat? Think about others besides yourself.” He tried one more time to reason with the impossible.
“Man, you don’t care nothing about me. I know you’re getting government subsidies for hiring us bad boys.”
True, but it didn’t cover the extras his company provided. “I don’t do rehires, so I would think carefully about getting to work on time tonight. Last chance.” Marcus stood. “Meeting over.”
“Whatever.” Shrugging, Victor got to his feet and walked to the door as Demetrius was entering the room.
No words were exchanged as Demetrius eyed Victor until he left the office. “You’re either a fool or a better man than I am, because I’d have fired him after the second tardy, no questions asked or guilt keeping me up at night.”
Rubbing the back of his neck, Marcus gritted his teeth. “Something tells me Victor is about to call my bluff, and I’ll put every dime we owe him on his payroll debit card before the end of the day. What is wrong with people? First that Tabitha woman and now him.” He rocked back in his chair and exhaled. “I have to be earning brownie points with God for putting up with foolishness.”
Demetrius stopped sifting through a stack of envelopes and gave Marcus a curious expression. “So your neighbor came back and you called the police? You didn’t tell me that.” He lifted an eyebrow.
“Because she hasn’t been back.”
“Oh.” Demetrius took a seat with a disappointed expression. “You can put the fear in the little lady, but Victor ain’t scared of being on the streets hungry or going back to j
ail. I call him a fool.” He balled his fists. “Say the word, and I’ll take it from here.”
“I don’t need your backup, Bro. My hunch is he plans to fail.”
Chapter 5
After work, Tabitha stopped at the grocery store with Aunt Tweet and lingered in the produce department. She had no problem eating a salad as her meal: spinach, fruit, taco—it didn’t matter.
Aunt Tweet chatted nonstop about the happenings at Bermuda Place while guiding the cart. “I told that Eleanor at the office she needs to update her wardrobe. The colors that woman puts together.” She tsked and shook her head, overlooking her own fixation with Tabitha’s red, floppy hat. “I requested the limo driver take us to the stores tomorrow.” Her aunt hadn’t stopped talking about the facility’s weekly outing where the seniors could shop. Limo vans were the mode of transportation.
Tabitha smiled, relieved her aunt was adjusting well to the changes in her life. This high-spirited and animated woman was the aunt Tabitha knew and loved. Not only could Aunt Tweet coordinate fashion, but she possessed a flair for interior decorating. How could this intelligent socialite be slipping away inside before Tabitha’s eyes? Enjoy each moment, she reminded herself.
Once Tabitha had selected all the veggies she wanted, she steered Aunt Tweet down the bakery aisle for English muffins for breakfast. Not only was her aunt a great cook, but Aunt Tweet was also a master baker of cakes and pies. She perused packages of sugary treats until she selected a sock-it-to-me cake off the shelf.
When her aunt reached for cookies and doughnuts as well, Tabitha lifted an eyebrow to draw the line. “Auntie, let’s get one or the other,” she suggested.
Not one for taking instructions, Aunt Tweet straightened her shoulders and jutted her chin. “I am getting one for today and the cake for tomorrow.” Her tone was final.
That’s two, so why was she holding three treats? Tabitha dared not argue, but she was determined to have the upper hand to keep her aunt healthy. Then, in disbelief, she watched as Aunt Tweet dumped more sweets into the cart as if to usurp her authority.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
“Now,” Aunt Tweet said, lifting her shoulder. “I feel like making a smothered pork chop for dinner with green beans and cranberries and coleslaw.” She smacked her lips as if the meal were already prepared.
Whenever her aunt cooked, Tabitha’s mouth watered too. Aunt Tweet knew how to mix seasonings for unmatched flavor. Her aunt might have won the scrimmage on the sweets at the moment, but Tabitha was going to win the battle on sugar overload. “I’ll get us some chops. Please, Aunt Tweet, don’t leave the cart.”
Tabitha suspected her aunt would use her absence to add more junk to their grocery bill. She hurried to the meat section and picked up the first package of pork chops without checking the price or expiration date. Considering Aunt Tweet’s state of mind and strong will, Tabitha didn’t trust her aunt to follow instructions. All Tabitha needed was to have the employees activate a Code Adam because her aunt went missing in the store.
She scrabbled back to aisle one. To her relief, Aunt Tweet hadn’t moved but was occupied with her intimidating neighbor. Uh-oh. Bracing for a sarcastic comment about her leaving Aunt Tweet, she hesitantly joined them.
What? Marcus actually smiled at her when he looked up. “Good evening, Tabitha. When I saw your aunt and didn’t see you, I was hoping you had everything under control.”
So he was taking a dig at her. “Despite what you think of my caregiving skills, as you can see, my aunt is well-loved and not neglected.” Tabitha made sure her aunt was clean and groomed each day before they left the home.
“Whoa.” He held up his hands. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” His eyes sparkled.
Oh, okay. Maybe she was taking offense because they met under circumstances that were not the best. Tabitha took a deep breath and lowered her guard. “Sorry I snapped.”
“Truce?” Marcus extended his hand to Tabitha’s amusement. “Misssss Knicely?”
“Yes, it’s ‘miss,’ and there is no way I can discreetly ask your status.” She smiled. “So tell me.”
“Single.”
Accepting his hand, Tabitha wasn’t prepared for the gentle strength coming from a guy who towered over her by a foot and could probably bench press two hundred pounds. At the same moment, she took note of his black, silky hair and thick eyebrows against brown, flawless skin. His facial hair was trimmed, and a hint of his cologne lingered under her nose. Handsome.
Tabitha lowered her lashes in embarrassment for cataloging his features. Who was she kidding? Any whimsical thoughts of a relationship with any man were on hold as long as Aunt Tweet was under her care. Besides, she had to make every minute and memory count for both of them. She was making assumptions that there was mutual attraction all because of one civil conversation.
“Well, it was nice seeing you again under better circumstances.” She pivoted to continue on her mission when his deep voice stopped her.
“I see someone has a sweet tooth.” Marcus smirked, tilting his head at her cart.
“That’s Aunt Tweet’s doing.” She leaned closer. “I plan to have the cashier put most of it aside.”
“Hmm, I would never have thought of that.”
“When you’re a caregiver, you try to think of everything and be a step ahead. Sometimes”—she shrugged—“I miss the mark.” Tabitha mustered a smile. She hoped he got her hint.
* * *
A day later, Marcus opened his front door and was dumbfounded. “Really?”
Tabitha was guiding her aunt off his porch again, down his steps, back to her car. After seeing a softer side of her at the grocery store, he had mixed emotions, but he would not be swayed by a pretty face. He had to do the right thing.
“Sorry.” She seemed flabbergasted.
He crossed his arms. “I thought this wouldn’t be a recurring thing.” He expected some lame excuse about how her aunt slipped between her fingers again. The thought of her being a parent scared him. When he’d noticed Aunt Tweet by herself at the store, he grew concerned, hoping her niece was nearby. He had been relieved when he’d seen her and held his tongue, since he had no right to comment about leaving her aunt alone again because it wasn’t on his property. Now was a different story.
“Me too.” They briefly exchanged stares.
“I didn’t get it the first time your aunt found her way to my house, and now…” His nostrils flared. “If you’re unable to care for her, then let someone who can take it from here.”
She squinted. “I dare you to say I’m not responsible.”
He stepped out of his house and looked down the stairs at her. She didn’t flinch. “And I dared you not to let her out of your sight, like you did again at the grocery store. She’s not disappearing. You are.”
Tabitha gritted her teeth. She opened her mouth, then closed it. She walked away.
What was she going to say? he wondered. He stepped off the porch but didn’t trail her to her car. “Tabitha, I’m warning you. There better not be a third time or I will call 911 and have your dear, sweet aunt taken into protective custody, or one day she’s going to go missing and the results may be worse than me finding her on my porch.”
That must have struck a nerve; she spun and stormed back to him. “You think I don’t know that? What do you want me to do, put a padlock on her door?” Her nostrils flared and her beautiful eyes aimed darts his way. “One minute my aunt was asleep; the next, she’s at your doorstep.”
This woman irritated him and captivated him. He was a man with authority over seventy employees, some of whom had served time in prison, yet he had their respect. This woman didn’t seem fazed by his threats or think he meant what he said, so why was he engaging her, instead of reporting her to the authorities?
“Walk in my shoes.”
Her challenge made him glance down.
The hem of her dress flowed around a nice pair of legs. He continued his appraisal until he stopped at her feet. The wind stirred, and a whiff of her perfume tickled his nose. A sense of how attractive she was brought his irritation down a notch. The sun cast a spotlight on Tabitha. Her dark-brown hair blended perfectly with the shade of her skin. That’s what he called natural beauty. She stepped back as he scanned her attire. He briefly wondered if her hidden toes were manicured. Stop ogling! he chided himself.
“I don’t know your shoe size, but if I could squeeze into them, I would still do a better job. You just don’t get it. This is my property. I’m trying to be nice about this—”
“Try harder. While you’re breathing smoke and fire, a good neighbor would be sympathetic and ask what they can do to help, but that’s a good neighbor. Now, being the responsible person I am, I’ll leave you to your tirade so I won’t be late for work.” She strutted back to her car. After helping Aunt Tweet into the passenger seat, Tabitha slid behind the wheel and drove off.
An hour later, Marcus paced the floor in his office. He was wondering if the word fool was stamped across his forehead, judging by Tabitha’s and Victor’s insulting behavior.
“So what are you going to do about this little home-invasion thing?” Demetrius snickered.
Marcus scowled. “I have no idea. Seriously, I need to call the police and at least have her put on notice about elderly endangerment.”
“But something tells me you won’t—no, you can’t. You like her.”
“Why wouldn’t I? She’s very polite, despite her neighborhood adventures. She reminds me of—”
“I know…Grans,” Demetrius said, cutting him off. “But I’m talking about the other neighbor. The gorgeous one—your description, not mine.” He held up both hands in surrender.
Huffing, Marcus didn’t reply as he stormed out of his own office. Next time, he would make the call—but he wasn’t looking forward to a next time.