“I hope I didn’t offend her,” Ida Mae said as soon as Eloise was out of earshot. “She looked upset.”
“Eloise has some demons of her own,” Hattie explained. “She doesn’t want to be here, but her son got remarried to a . . . well, from the way Eloise describes her, she’s fresh from a Las Vegas showroom, but I don’t think it’s really that bad. Anyway, she’d been planning to move in with him, but his new wife doesn’t want her in the house. Says old people give her the creeps. I think there’s a daughter in the picture, but I’m not sure where she is.”
“Oh,” Ida Mae said, at a loss for words. No wonder Eloise felt the way she did about Shady Aspens. It wasn’t her home of choice, and she felt forced to live there.
“Are you ready for the evening’s entertainment?” Nurse Andrea walked up and smiled brightly at the three residents who remained at the table. “A local Cub Scout troop is coming to put on a magic show.”
“I think I’ll pass,” Hattie said. “I’m feeling a bit done in.”
“Me too,” Ida Mae said. She loved magic shows, but all the excitement of the day was wearing on her. She hated to admit it, but the pain in her wrist was more than just a little uncomfortable.
“I’ll stay,” George said. “I hope they do the trick with the tablecloth. I never can figure that one out.”
Andrea took the handles of Ida Mae’s wheelchair, while another aide came to collect Hattie. As they parted ways, Hattie called out, “See you tomorrow, Ida Mae! Let’s sit together for the morning Tai Chi class.”
Ida Mae pondered that all the way down the hall. “You do Tai Chi here?” she asked Andrea as they entered her room.
Andrea laughed. “In a way. Most of our residents can’t do the full series of moves, so we all just do what we can. Even the breathing techniques are very therapeutic, if that’s all you’re able to do.”
Ida Mae nodded, thinking it over. “What is tomorrow’s schedule like?”
Andrea reached for a folder on the dresser. “This outlines our basic schedule, but we do have some variety as well. Like the Scouts tonight, for instance.”
“Breakfast at eight, Tai Chi at nine, crafts at ten? No sleeping in?”
“Well, now, you can sleep in if you want to. But we recommend that you participate fully in the activities. Your recovery will go much more quickly.”
Ida Mae liked that concept. She’d been worried that her free time would be spent staring at a wall. Of course, if the walls could talk and give her the information she needed, that wouldn’t be so bad.
“When do I meet with the doctor?”
Andrea pulled another sheet from the folder. “You meet with Dr. Greene tomorrow at eleven. He’s our staff psychiatrist.”
Ida Mae winced. Was she really so far gone that she needed to see a shrink?
Andrea must have noticed her reaction, because she reached out and patted Ida Mae’s shoulder. “It’s not that bad, really. He’s a good doctor, and I know you’ll feel a lot better after you’ve spoken with him.” A faint pink blush crept up her cheeks, leading Ida Mae to wonder if the doctor was young, if he was single, and if he was handsome. She was willing to bet it was a “yes” to all three.
“And you’ll be meeting with Dr. Wilson soon, too. She’ll check your blood pressure and see how your breaks are doing.”
“Any chance they’re already healed?” Ida Mae asked lightheartedly.
“No chance at all. But we’ll keep you busy enough that you won’t even notice them.”
Ida Mae decided she’d hold the nurse to her promise.
“Dinner is served,” Eden said to her fish, sprinkling a couple of flakes on top of the water. “For me, too.” She glanced around the apartment but didn’t see Arlette. “Grandma?” she called out. “I brought dinner home.” The Golden Lotus had an order that was canceled last minute, so they let Eden have it. “It’s egg rolls and cashew chicken and” —she checked the order tag— “broccoli beef.” Still no answer from her grandmother, but when Eden went to the fridge to get some ice cubes, she saw a note under her Miss Piggy magnet.
Tansy came by and we went out to get something to eat. We’re also going to pick up some DVDs for Ida Mae, and a plant for her room. I’ll be back soon.
Eden dumped part of the food onto a plate and stuck it in the microwave. All the more cashew chicken for me. While the food heated, she pulled off her spattered clothes and threw on an old pair of sweats. She still smelled like Chinese food, but at least she could stand herself now.
She put a piece of chicken on a plate for the cat. She didn’t know why she felt moved to such generosity—the cat didn’t deserve it.
After eating her fill, Eden pulled out a notebook and started jotting down some notes about Beverly Partridge’s death and Dr. Nancy Brent’s murder. Eden remembered how Ida Mae had carefully taken notes during their last case, and she wanted to be like Ida Mae in more ways than one.
Eden thought for a minute, nibbling on her pencil. Just how exactly did Beverly die? Was it her heart, like her doctor presumed, or was there more to it than that? At least there was no mystery about the cause of Dr. Brent’s death—a bullet to the chest was pretty blatant. Eden would have to ask Kevin tomorrow if the police were still focusing on the vengeful husband theory or if they’d decided to look into Shady Aspens yet. She hoped they’d hurry and change the focus of their investigation. She was sure they were barking up the wrong tree. They might as well blame the whole thing on a passing vagrant, for all the good they were doing now.
She made a note, then went back to nibbling. What would a vagrant be doing with a gun? Eden had to admit she’d never really thought about it before, but if she were a vagrant and had a gun, she figured she’d probably sell it to get money to buy food. She wouldn’t be able to buy bullets for it, so it wouldn’t be a useful tool for hunting. The gun could be used to warn off other vagrants or curious passersby, she supposed.
When Arlette and Tansy came in, Eden asked the question with no lead-in. “If you were a vagrant, would you have a gun?”
“Oh, I know this game!” Tansy said. “It’s like the one where you have to decide what books you’d take with you to a desert island. Let’s see. If I were a vagrant, I’d have a gun and a pair of boots. Your turn, Arlette.”
“What?”
“You know. You say, ‘If I was a vagrant, I’d have a gun, a pair of boots, and then—’”
“And then what?”
“Well, you have to make up your own thing. But we go around and around, and whoever forgets what’s on the list loses.”
Eden smiled. “It’s not a game, Tansy. I was just letting my imagination run away with me.”
“Oh.” Tansy sat down on the couch next to Eden. “Well, it was fun while it lasted.”
“Yes, it was.” Eden looked at Arlette. “What do you think, Grandma? Would a vagrant have a gun?”
“I don’t know,” Arlette said. “Maybe they would want to protect what few possessions they had left.”
“That’s true.” Eden yawned but tried to ignore the fatigue that threatened to overtake her. “Back to business. Why do you think Dr. Brent was killed?”
“Did the police say anything had been taken from her house?” Tansy asked.
Eden shook her head. “They said everything was untouched.”
“Well, that rules out a robbery,” her grandmother said. “I take it you don’t buy this former patient thing.”
“I don’t. It just doesn’t feel right, you know?” Eden tapped her lips with her pencil. “I’ll ask Kevin if the police have questioned the neighbors as carefully as they should have done.”
“Did Kevin write a story on it?” Arlette asked. “Did he talk to the neighbors?”
“He tried to, but no one was home, and Mr. Cooper wanted to put the paper to bed.”
“It might bear a follow-up story,” Arlette said.
“It might at that.” Eden made another note. “Okay, ladies, I’m going to hit the hay. Good night, Grand
ma. I made the bed in the guest room fresh this morning. Good night, Tansy.”
“Guest room?” Eden heard Tansy ask as she walked away.
“That’s what Eden calls it,” Arlette replied. “It’s really sort of a closet.”
“But it’s mine!” Eden said over her shoulder. “Well, it’s sort of mine—when I can pay for it. And there’s pride that comes with ownership.”
“Apparently, some forms of blindness, too,” Arlette said in an undertone, but Eden still caught it before she closed her bedroom door.
10
The next morning, Andrea got Ida Mae out of bed and helped her take a sponge bath. Ida Mae couldn’t explain it, but it was so much less embarrassing to ask Andrea for help. Maybe it was because she was a trained nurse. Maybe it was because Ida Mae really didn’t know her and would probably never see her again once she left Shady Acres. Whatever the reason, Ida Mae was grateful.
“You’re not finished yet,” Andrea said as Ida Mae brushed her hair. “There’s one important thing we haven’t done.”
“What’s that?”
Andrea pulled a bottle of bright red nail polish out of her pocket. “Painting your toenails, of course.” She knelt down and applied a rich coat to each of Ida Mae’s toes. “There.”
Ida Mae looked down at her feet. It was frivolous, really—who needed to paint their toes? But the more she looked at them, the more she liked them. A smile crept across her face. She just might have to make this a habit.
She was sorry when the paint was dry and it was time to put on her shoe and sock, but at least the toes sticking out of her cast were still visible.
“We probably should have painted them pink, to match your cast,” Andrea said as she wheeled Ida Mae toward the dining room.
“Next time,” Ida Mae told her. “I like red.”
Breakfast was such a wonderful spread of fresh fruits and baked goods that Ida Mae felt more like she was on a cruise ship than in a care center. She didn’t have the chance to ask any more questions of her tablemates as they ate because George kept them all laughing with his Milton Berle impersonations, and Tai Chi was a washout as far as investigating went because you aren’t supposed to talk while you do Tai Chi. Ida Mae supposed she’d have to wait until lunch, but first came the doctor’s appointment she’d really rather forget all about—the one with Dr. Greene, the psychiatrist.
The first thing that surprised her about Dr. Greene was the fact that he asked to meet with her on the patio, rather than inside his office. The patio was shaded by sprawling, heavily leafed trees, and large urns filled with cascading flowers stood in every corner. Tansy would love this, Ida Mae thought as she looked around.
“Mrs. Babbitt?” The doctor held out his hand as he crossed the cobblestones toward her. “I’m Dr. Greene. It’s good to meet you.”
“You’ve got a lovely garden here,” Ida Mae told him as she accepted his handshake. “It’s like a little bit of heaven.”
He looked around, filling his lungs with the fragrant air. “It is, isn’t it? I’m so glad the weather cooperated with us today—I can’t bring my visitors out here when it gets too hot.”
Visitors instead of patients, hmm? Some trick to catch me off guard, make me forget what I’m really here for. Ida Mae knew she was being unfair, but there wasn’t much about the situation that made her want to be fair.
“I’m told you’re a former Relief Society president,” Dr. Greene said, taking a seat on a bench not too far from her wheelchair. “That’s a heavy-duty calling.”
“It’s certainly time-consuming,” Ida Mae said. “But I enjoyed it.”
“I took the liberty of talking to your bishop.”
Ida Mae leaned forward, her face suddenly feeling too warm. “You called Bishop Sylvester?”
“He couldn’t say enough about you.”
“How many swear words did you count?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Nothing.” Ida Mae leaned back, trying to relax against the cushions in the wheelchair. Bishop Sylvester had been her priesthood leader when she’d had her little run-in with the law, and it was on his behalf she’d gotten involved in the case to begin with. She’d only been trying to help, and didn’t mean to acquire a criminal record, but sometimes things just turned out that way.
“Mrs. Babbitt, the bishop had nothing but praise for you. He said he’s never met anyone with as much true Christian devotion and he’s amazed at all the good you accomplished.”
“He said that?”
“He said that.” The doctor crossed his legs and rested his clasped hands on his knee. “You’ve given a lot of service in your life, Mrs. Babbitt, and I think you’re feeling a little useless right now.”
His evaluation didn’t seem any different from the others she’d heard from Arlette and Tansy, but coming from him—a doctor—it really hit home. Ida Mae felt tears start to well up in the corners of her eyes.
“I know I can’t wave a magic wand and make everything all right, but I would like to give you some things to do while you’re here that might help you feel more vital.”
“Please tell me you aren’t going to teach me how to crochet,” Ida Mae said.
Dr. Greene looked surprised. “I hadn’t thought about that, actually.”
“Good.” That was one worry she could now cross off her list.
“I don’t know if you’ve heard about our mentoring program,” Dr. Greene said. “Our more lively residents really enjoy taking part in it.”
“What is the mentoring program, exactly?”
“There’s an elementary school across the way, and every Monday and Thursday afternoon, the teachers of the after-school program bring the students over here for an hour. The residents tutor the children in the areas they need. It gives the children exposure to a grandparent figure, and it helps the residents to feel as though they’re giving something back.”
Ida Mae nodded. It sounded like a marvelous program. “I’d like that,” she said slowly. “But let me think about it.”
“Okay. School doesn’t start for a couple of weeks, so by then you’ll know if you want to participate.” Dr. Greene uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. “Mrs. Babbitt, when I spoke with Dr. Farmer—”
“Good heavens! Is there anyone you didn’t talk to? I imagine you weren’t able to get hold of my mother.”
Dr. Greene smiled. “Sorry, she wasn’t available. But yes, I did make some phone calls. I’m only trying to see to it that you get the best possible care.”
Ida Mae lifted a hand in absolution. “Fine. What did my doctor say?”
“He told me he’d briefly discussed the use of antidepressant drugs with you, but he wanted to see how a change of atmosphere suited you first.”
“That’s right.”
“And how do you feel about that?”
Ida Mae shifted a little in her chair. “I don’t want to take any more pills than absolutely necessary.”
“Very well. But if you don’t start to feel better soon, you’ll tell me?”
She gave her promise, and after answering a few general health questions, she was finished with her appointment. It hadn’t been all that bad, she supposed. She didn’t like feeling as though she’d been stuck under a microscope, but Dr. Greene was kindly and she didn’t feel too scrutinized. And he was handsome, as she’d guessed from Andrea’s reaction whenever his name came up. She couldn’t wait to see the two of them together so she could watch how they interacted, but it wasn’t Andrea who came to get her from the doctor’s office—it was a nurse named Michelle.
“Lunch smells delicious today,” Michelle said as she pushed Ida Mae’s chair across the walkway that separated the doctor’s office from the rest of the care center. “I think it’s sweet and sour chicken.”
“That would be tasty,” Ida Mae replied, surprised at how hungry she felt. She’d eaten quite a bit at breakfast, but it had been an emotional morning.
She met up with her tablemates and they were served. S
ure enough, it was sweet and sour chicken, with a side of steamed vegetables.
“I’m going to gain weight if this keeps up,” Ida Mae said, looking at her plate.
“Each resident is given the portion size they need,” the server said. “Some of our residents need to eat a lower-calorie diet, so we accommodate them, as well.”
“If you’re trying to fatten me up for Thanksgiving, you’ll find I’m a tough old bird,” Ida Mae told her.
George laughed. “You are a breath of fresh air, Ida Mae.” He self-consciously reached up to adjust his toupee.
“And you need an oxygen tank,” Eloise said, at which he laughed all the harder.
After everyone had taken a few bites, Ida Mae wiped her mouth and said, “I was talking with Beverly’s daughter the other day. She told me Beverly mentioned a doctor here by the name of Brent. How do I make an appointment? Do I just ask the nurses?”
“I’m afraid you can’t see Dr. Brent,” Eloise said. “We were told not too long ago that she passed away.”
“Oh, that’s sad.” Ida Mae wondered if the residents knew it had been murder.
“Beverly mentioned Dr. Brent?” Hattie put her fork down. “That’s rather odd.”
“Why is that odd?” Ida Mae pressed.
“Well, Beverly didn’t much care for Dr. Brent,” Hattie explained. “Whenever I spoke with her about it, she just said she couldn’t trust anyone who asked her to give up potato chips.”
Everyone at the table laughed, but Hattie went on. “It wasn’t just that, though. There were other things—”
“How is lunch?” the server asked, appearing at Hattie’s elbow. “Are you ready for dessert? In keeping with our tropical theme, we’ve got pineapple upside-down cake.”
Ida Mae patted her stomach. “I don’t think I could handle another bite.”
“Why don’t I save yours for an afternoon snack?” the server suggested.
“That would be lovely, thank you.”
“I always have room for dessert.” George pushed his lunch plate to the side. “How about you, General?”
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