by Dara Girard
“First of all, having a friend living there allowed me access to all the facilities and I used her as an insider to see how residents were being treated. I accept responsibility for not realizing the level of trouble, but I had been deceived. And regarding Mr. Davis, you don’t need to worry about that. It’s over now.”
“It shouldn’t have happened in the first place.”
“Who told you about it?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m disappointed with you.” He stood and turned away from her. “You’re suspended, and we’re not going to fund this project any further.”
Mary shook her head, thinking about all the happy residents there. She remembered the joy on Mrs. McQueeth’s face when she used to visit compared to the isolation she had dealt with in her previous house. It had been a palace to her and a place where she had made friends. True, there had been problems, but they had been addressed and the media had blown everything out of proportion. Most pilot programs faced obstacles and had to smooth out rough edges, and the community deserved the same chance. It was already under enough scrutiny with the death of Mrs. McQueeth and the unresolved death of a second resident. “That’s not fair.”
“Fair! Did you see the minutes from the Board?”
“Yes.”
James continued anyway. “They had an unlicensed respiratory therapist.”
“Who was fired on the spot, once it was learned that her license had expired,” Mary countered.
“Residents with unexplained bruises and others given incorrect dosages of medication, which were a direct result of incompetent staff.”
“The Board had immediately voted that a different model be used for recruiting staff, which now involves a three-week, intensive orientation program,” she said.
“You know we’re not the only ones in this mess. The medical unit is under investigation by state regulators from the Office of Health Care Quality—and until the results from the government’s investigation is completed, a decision has been made to no longer allow the project to receive government payments through Medicaid.”
“But the loss of Medicaid funding is one of the most severe penalties that can be levied against a facility such as theirs. Over seventy percent of payments come from Medicaid,” Mary cried.
“It’s out of my hands. And there’s nothing you can do.”
Mary thought of all of Mrs. McQueeth’s friends being forced to move into sterile nursing homes, and the idea made her angry. The project didn’t deserve to lose funding. “This is premature. You don’t even know the results of the autopsy report.”
James spun around. “That could take months.”
“We can wait.”
“But we won’t.” He tapped the headlines. “This incident makes us look bad, and we don’t like looking bad.”
“I can make us look good again, if you give me a chance.”
“No you can’t. You’re suspended.”
“But it’s not my fault. I’m being used as a scapegoat.”
James rubbed his forefinger and thumb together. “That’s just how things are done here.”
Mary watched his unconscious movement, then knew. “I’m never going to get that promotion, am I?” she said quietly.
“Now don’t try to make me feel guilty, I’m just doing my job.”
“For years you tell me what a good worker I am, how valuable I am to this institution, and every year I’m passed over for a promotion and you say there’s nothing you can do. But there is something you can do. You can stand up for me. Instead of telling me what a good worker I am, tell your boss. But you’ll never do that because it’s all been a lie. Your job is more important than mine. At last I’m finally seeing it.”
“You’re taking this too personally. It’s a company decision. If you work hard there’s always next year.”
“No, there won’t be a next year for me.” Mary left James’s office and marched to her desk. James followed. She began packing her things.
“Now you’re just being irrational,” James said.
“It was irrational of me to wait around here for so long.”
“What’s going on?” Dianne asked.
Mary continued throwing her belongings in a box. She was glad to escape the pretense. She was tired of it. James could pretend he liked his job, Dianne could pretend she had a great boyfriend and a kind heart, but Mary was tired of pretending that they mattered. “I’ve quit.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
Mary met her gaze. “You’re going to be,” she said quietly. “One day soon.”
Dianne’s expression froze.
Mary pushed past them and left.
Jean followed her to the elevators, looking devastated. “You’re really leaving?”
“Yes, there’s no need for me to stay around and get passed over a sixth time. I don’t have a future here.”
Jean’s eyes welled with tears, but she nodded with understanding. “Good luck.”
A week later, Mary didn’t feel very lucky as she sat looking at Cammie. Mary wondered if quitting had been such a good idea. She had enough savings for a few months rent, but not for an indefinite period. She would have to do the job hunt again and her iguana was still depressed and losing weight. Mary glanced up and saw a pair of stockings that she had flung over her chair. She knew what to do.
Mary gathered up all her clothes and accessories, packing them into three large suitcases, and drove to the boutique. “I want a refund,” Mary said once Rania appeared. “And I want out of this Society. It hasn’t offered me anything. I don’t have the man of my dreams, or a promotion, or the people I love. I wish I’d never joined. The old Mary may not have been perfect, but she was doing pretty well until she started wishing for something bigger and wishing for things that didn’t come true.”
“You’re just upset.”
“Upset? I discovered that the community I was in charge of has a terrible record. My iguana is depressed because she misses her lovely cage at Edmund’s, and in two days I’m burying a woman who was like a mother to me. She might still be alive if I hadn’t put her in that place.”
“You don’t know that for certain.”
“But I do know this—I want a refund.”
“It doesn’t work that way. You’re a member for life.”
Mary folded her arms in defiance. “But I won’t be a member anymore if I tell someone, right?”
Rania narrowed her gaze. “You wouldn’t want to do that. If you think things are bad now, they’ll get much worse.”
“Worse?” she sniffed. “I’m already worse off now than when I started.”
“Mary, give it a chance.” Rania paused. “You haven’t worn the last pair of stockings have you?”
“No.”
“Wear them to your next major event.”
“I don’t even have a job. How will I have an event to go to?”
“You will and I want you to wear the last pair of stockings then. For now, wear the fishnets to the funeral.”
“Won’t that be…indecent?”
Rania smiled. “Not at all. Mrs. McQueeth would have wanted that.”
“How do you know that?”
“Just trust me.”
So many well-wishers attended Mrs. McQueeth’s funeral that they had to hold the gathering in the main hall. Mary’s mother, Kate Reyland, looked around in awe, her feathered black hat swatting Mary’s face each time she turned. She looked at Mary, her pretty face pinched up in a scowl. “I don’t know how a woman with no family could command such a crowd.”
Mary brushed off a feather that had fallen on her nose. “She was a wonderful woman and everyone here knew it.”
“Even him?” Kate asked, gesturing to Edmund, who was too good-looking for a man in mourning. “I’ve noticed you watching him the whole day.”
Mary adjusted her jacket.
“Handsome man.”
“Yes.”
“And you’ve gone and fallen for him,” she scoffed. “You�
�ll never learn, will you? You’re always reaching beyond your grasp.”
Mary groaned. “Not today, Mom.”
“Some women are lucky in love and some women aren’t. It’s a fact of life.”
“Mrs. McQueeth—”
“Was always putting silly ideas into your head. If your father hadn’t left me and taken his hefty salary with him, I probably would have fired her.”
Mary glanced at the ceiling, wishing she could call on Mrs. McQueeth’s ghost to slap her mother.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed your change. After your brothers saw you, they went on and on about it.”
Mary smiled, pleased that they’d noticed, although they hadn’t told her. “That’s nice.”
“No, it’s not. What do men know? You put on some lipstick and they think you’ve had a face-lift.”
Mary sighed.
“I know you, Mary Antoinette Reyland. You may look glamorous, but you’re the same old Mary underneath and you can’t deny that.” Kate glanced down at Mary’s gray skirt and fishnet stockings. “And those.”
“What about them?”
“Personally, I think those stockings are absolutely inappropriate for a solemn occasion like this.”
“I didn’t wear them for you. I wore them for Mrs. McQueeth and I don’t want another word out of you. Because in a few minutes you may be joining Mrs. McQueeth. Now I need to mingle.”
Kate suddenly looked panicked. “Don’t leave me; I don’t know any of these people.”
“No one is going to bite you. Just say hello.”
“But—”
Mary squeezed her mother’s hand. “You’ll be fine.” She adjusted her mother’s hat. “You might make a new friend.”
Mary left her mother and saw Sara and Larry entering the hall. Her heart twisted with the remembered pain of their lost friendship. She froze when they turned in her direction, then offered a shy smile. Larry waved and Sara nodded, then approached her.
“I really am sorry about Mrs. McQueeth,” Sara said.
“Thank you.” Mary toyed with her necklace, the memory of their visits together to Mrs. McQueeth’s house coming back full force, bringing with it tears. She glanced up at the ceiling, hoping to hold them back. “Nice of you to come.”
“I wouldn’t miss a last chance to say goodbye.”
Mary shifted awkwardly, a question burning in her mind. “What did Edmund say to you to make you leave that night you came to dinner?”
“He didn’t say anything.”
Mary looked at her, surprised. “What?”
“No. He just pulled out a little black box and showed us the ring.”
“What ring?”
Sara smirked. “I didn’t think he’d give it to you, but I was still jealous.” She glanced at Edmund, then shrugged. “I guess I was jealous for nothing,” she said, sending a poignant glance at Mary’s bare finger. “Sad, isn’t it?” She moved toward Mary, then thought better of it and walked away.
Mary didn’t watch Sara leave. Instead she stared at Edmund, who was consoling a group of residents, one of whom was sobbing uncontrollably on his shoulder.
He’d had an engagement ring? Had he planned to propose to her that night? In the eight years she had been with Curtis, he had never bought her jewelry—let alone a piece that held such promise. Perhaps they’d been mistaken. No, she was the one who’d been mistaken. She was the one who hadn’t wanted to talk about the future. And now she realized that what had been in that box would remain a mystery.
They had no future together now. She’d made it clear that she didn’t want him in her life, and she couldn’t take back the cruel words she’d said.
Instead of mingling, Mary decided to go visit Mrs. McQueeth’s old apartment. She had an extra set of keys and let herself in. Once inside, she closed her eyes and sniffed the air, imagining she could still detect the sweet scent of zucchini bread and chamomile tea. In a corner she saw Mrs. McQueeth’s treasured grandfather clock, and on the floor, her Oriental rug, looking as new as when she first bought it.
Mary wandered into the bedroom, surprised that nothing had been touched. Everything was as she had remembered it, and for a moment she denied her friend’s death, desperately hoping that if she waited long enough Mrs. McQueeth would walk through the door.
Mary sat on the edge of the bed, picked up a pillow and smelled it. She ran her hand across the exquisite quilt that covered the bed. It had been a gift Mrs. McQueeth’s husband’s family had given them as newlyweds, and since his death ten years after the wedding she had placed it on her bed to remember her happy years with him. Mary went through the closets, touching Mrs. McQueeth’s coarse wool sweater and polyester skirts and blouses. Next she opened one of the drawers, curious to find Mrs. McQueeth’s infamous, mysterious black book. She didn’t find it but did find a diary.
Mary sat back on the bed and opened it to a page dated in the spring of the previous year and started to read.
I am so happy. I can’t believe that Mary has done this for me. She is such a good woman. She’s as sweet as she was as a child. Although I do worry about her, I have hopes that she will eventually allow herself the blessings she deserves.
As Mary continued to read, she was surprised how often her name appeared, but more how joyful Mrs. McQueeth’s year had been. Her friends, her activities—she had lived every moment to the fullest and even discussed the man she called “My Heart.” Mary smiled as she continued to read, then gasped when a certain name jumped out at her. Edmund came over today as he always does. Edmund had visited her? When? Mary continued to read in disbelief.
He took me to the museum as he promised. He knows that I get lonely when the anniversary of Luella’s death comes by. He even brought a cake to celebrate her birthday.
And another entry.
We visited the cemetery today. Edmund showed me where his grandparents are buried. I know it hurts him to talk about them, but he trusts an old woman and I use that to draw him out. He doesn’t trust easily and that’s his failing, but with time he will learn.
And another.
We bought the ring for Mary. It’s beautiful. Edmund thought it was too plain, but I said it was perfect. I know my Mary. I can’t wait until he asks her.
And more.
Edmund and I had a little argument today. He still hasn’t asked Mary to marry him. He says that Mary’s not ready. I think he’s afraid she’ll say no. He doesn’t take rejection well. I told him that I won’t live forever and I want to be at their wedding. I hope he asks her soon.
Mary slammed the diary shut, unable to read any more. Pain mingled with disbelief. Twice Edmund had told others he’d wanted to marry her? Why hadn’t he told her? She pushed the diary back in the drawer and closed it. Part of her knew the answer. She’d never given him a chance. She was the one who’d wanted to keep their relationship as an affair, and that’s what she’d gotten. It was too much to take in. She glanced down and noticed a black feather on the floor. Damn her mother’s silly hats. She spent a fortune on buying them…Mary stopped. A fortune. Slowly, an idea came to her. She knew how to raise money for the community. She said goodbye to some of Mrs. McQueeth’s friends, then left the hall. At home, she immediately called Jenna. “I need your help.”
Chapter 13
They met for lunch along with Mrs. Davis and Mrs. Lemon. And Mary told them of her idea. With the government funding temporarily on hold, the community needed some form of fund-raiser, or Edmund and the other investors and, most important, the residents would lose everything. Mary wanted to hold an auction and use Jenna’s contacts to help her.
Jenna immediately contacted the home office for Madison’s Hats, and used her business savvy to negotiate an unbelievably low price for the large number of items she purchased from them.
They agreed to provide a total of one hundred hats, each costing an average of five hundred dollars, plus one hundred designer bags and shoes to match. Following several planning meetings they agreed to use t
he residents as models, and Mrs. Lemon amazed them all by getting the grand ballroom of the famous downtown Yardley Hotel for the event and having them cover all costs. Mary engaged the help of Rania and Cynthia from the hair salon to do the makeup and style their models’ hair for the event. The residents were beside themselves. Rania offered to loan clothing for the event and the excitement of the upcoming event renewed the community.
Edmund felt it, too, although he was careful not to be too close to it. Mary wanted him out of her life and for now it would stay that way. He’d seen her at the funeral, but she’d disappeared before he had a chance to say anything. Unfortunately, he had to hear about how wonderful and brilliant Mary was from Jenna and his mother. Although it hurt, he liked to know that she was happy. That night he fell on his couch, exhausted from another tedious meeting of investors, taking back their money. He had already sold a property to cover some of the lost revenue. After watching a sitcom on TV he promptly fell asleep.
He didn’t dream at first, then he imagined Mary’s voice calling for him.
“Edmund, please help me!”
He couldn’t believe how real it sounded. “I always will,” he mumbled.
“Please, Edmund, I need you!”
Edmund slowly woke up. The pounding continued. His eyes flew open. He dashed to the door and swung it open. His heart leaped at the sight of her, then constricted with worry by the look on her face.
He gripped the door frame to keep from touching her. “What’s wrong?”
She held up what lay cradled in her arms. “It’s Cammie. She’s been panting and she’s hot to the touch. When I called my vet he said she’s likely overheated and to just put her into a cooler area, but she hasn’t cooled down yet and I don’t know what to do.”