What was he going to say to her father, that he wanted to make love to his only daughter? “You wouldn’t dare!”
Thane raised an eyebrow and studied the flush stealing up her neck. What did she think he was going to say? “Evening, Mr. O’Neil. You wouldn’t mind if I take Autumn to bed, would you?” Maybe being old-fashioned wasn’t such a good idea. Here he had been trying to figure out a way to get Autumn to take him to New York to meet her parents, when out of nowhere she was telling him her entire family was coming for a visit in eight days. He took her father’s pending visit as an omen. They were meant to meet so that he could request the honor of his only daughter’s hand in marriage. Autumn obviously thought he had no such proposal in mind. “You don’t think I should?”
Flustered, she tried another tactic. “The house will be overrun by noisy children, well-meaning ladies who’ll shove food down your throat nonstop, and the television will be blaring whatever football game happens to be playing.”
“I think I’ll survive.”
“You haven’t met my seven-year-old twin nephews yet. They’ve already been thrown out of the local parish school, and at last report the public school is threatening expulsion.”
He was amused by the extremes she seemed willing to go to keep him away. “I’m sure we’ll get along fine.”
“Cory’s not potty-trained yet, Tara won’t eat anything besides mashed-potatoes-and-jelly sandwiches, and Roake runs around making obscene noises all the time.”
“I take it Cory’s not one of your sister-in-laws.”
“You think I’m kidding, don’t you?”
“Listen, honey” --he reached over and kissed the pout on her lips-- “I know you’re worried that it’s going to be a tight fit in your house.”
“Tight fit,” she cried. “I’ve been delegated to spend my nights on the couch.”
His eyes twinkled. “You could sleep over at my place.”
“Do you have a death wish? My brothers would rip you apart.”
“I was teasing, love.” He placed his finished egg on a stand to dry. “Everything is going to work out just fine.” He kissed her frown. “Trust me.”
Her scowl stayed in place as she took a deep breath and pulled out the big guns. “Colleen’s pregnant again. That means countless hours of discussing who had the longest labor, whose baby weighed the most, and who suffered the most agonizing delivery.” Autumn hated to do it, but things were getting desperate. Only one other subject could send the shiver of fear down a grown man’s spine as fast as a description of childbirth, and that was explaining in detail what’s entailed in a vasectomy. No man in his right mind would subject himself to hours of pure torture.
“Obstetrics has always fascinated me.” He almost laughed at the look of astonishment on Autumn’s face. “Do you think they would mind me asking questions?”
#
Autumn hung up the phone and frowned. Thane had disappeared off the face of the earth. Now, if only he would stay there for the next week, everything would be perfect. Her parents were coming in three days, and Mary Reinland had planned a Thanksgiving activity for that morning that might be objectionable to Thane. She had tried contacting him at the home and hospital; he was at neither.
So where was he? When he’d left for work, he hadn’t said anything about a change in his routine. In fact he’d seemed extremely cheerful about something. He had whistled while shaving and complimented her on the breakfast she had prepared-- black coffee and strawberry preserves smeared across a couple of English muffins. Definitely not hearty fare, but she hadn’t slept well.
Autumn picked up the phone and quickly dialed a number from memory. “Clark Baker, please.” She waited a moment. “Mr. Baker, Autumn O’Neil here. Have you heard from Doctor Clayborne this morning?”
“Hello, Autumn. He called and said he wouldn’t be in until this afternoon.”
Bewildered, she asked, “Did he say where he was going?”
“I’m afraid not.”
Autumn chewed her lower lip. “Did you know Mary has arranged for a Thanksgiving celebration today?”
“Of course. She ran the idea by me last week.”
“Are you aware she’s planning on having some of the residents dress as Indians and some as Pilgrims?”
“It wouldn’t be a Thanksgiving celebration without Indians and Pilgrims.”
“Clark, I don’t mean to tell you how to run the home, but do you realize some of your residents have a very fierce competitive streak?”
“Competition is good for them. You of all people should know that, Autumn. Besides, that’s why Mary has pulled this together.”
“I’m afraid you lost me.”
“Competition, Autumn. She’s been hearing about your Halloween bash for weeks and feels she has to do something to win back the residents’ admiration.”
“What about the VCRP inspection?”
“Hmmm, I forgot about that.” He fell silent for a moment. “Thane’s been keeping a close eye on the situation. I’m sure that if he thought they might be around today, he wouldn’t have taken this morning off.”
Autumn couldn’t stop the feeling of impending disaster. “You’re right, Clark. Sorry for disturbing you.”
She hung up the phone and grabbed her coat. Thane would never forgive her if something prevented the home from winning the award. She locked the shop, hurried to the truck, and drove to Maple Leaf. Maybe she could help keep things under control. After all, she was semi-responsible for Mary throwing this absurdity.
Autumn entered the main hall of Maple Leaf and stopped dead in her tracks. A teepee had been constructed out of brown butcher paper in the main solarium. The seven-foot teepee was a wonder, but it was what surrounded it that widened her eyes. Four turkeys were locked in a cage, pecking, strutting, and plucking out one another’s feathers. A stuffed goat, on wheels, stood next to the opening of the tent, and a two-foot-long iguana, wearing a dog leash, was tied to the leg of the couch.
Had Mary lost her mind? Even at her wildest, Autumn had never brought a live animal into the home. She gave the lizard a wide berth and went looking for the activity director.
Autumn heard the war party before she saw them. Five men exited the dining room brandishing rubber tomahawks, bows, and arrows with suction cups on their tips. Headbands boasted hot pink and turquoise feathers, and aged faces bore the sign of war paint. She held out her arms. “Whoa.” They stopped. Autumn smiled reassuringly at them, then asked, “Where are you guys heading?”
Russell crossed his arms and tried looking fierce while sitting in a wheelchair. “Scalping.”
She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from chuckling. They were cute all dressed up and ready for blood. Mary sure had her hands full. “Let’s go back into the dining hall, boys. I’ll see if I can come up with something safe for you to scalp.” She ushered them back into the room and joined the rest of the Indians.
Elderly ladies were gathered around a table making beaded necklaces. A couple of other gentlemen were busy making their headdresses, while two young nurses looked overwrought. “Hi, Nancy, Sarah. Where’s Mary?”
“Autumn! You came.”
“Wouldn’t miss this for the world. What’s going on?”
“Everything,” Nancy muttered. “You name it and Mary’s trying to do it.”
Autumn glanced around. There were enough activities going on to keep the residents busy for a week. “Where are the others?”
“In the game room,” Sarah said. “We’re the Indians, and they’re the Pilgrims.
“What are the Pilgrims doing?”
“Making miniature Mayflowers out of milk cartons, muskets from broom handles, and funny white collars.”
“All in one sitting?”
Nancy rolled her eyes. “Tell us about it. We were short staffed to begin with, but Mary was bound and determined to make this a Thanksgiving the residents will remember.”
Autumn groaned and felt the beginning of a pounding headache.
“Whose idea was the Indian village in the solarium?”
“Guess?”
“Did you see the lizard?” Sarah shuddered. “I thought the turkeys were bad enough, but the lizard is just plain scary.”
“I never knew there were lizards at the first Thanksgiving feast,” Nancy said.
“There weren’t any lizards present at the meal, and there definitely weren’t any iguanas in Massachusetts,” Autumn explained as she headed out of the room. “Keep up the good work, you two.” She glanced at the war party holding a secret meeting in the back of the room. “If I were you, I’d keep an eye on that bunch.”
The game room was in total chaos. Milk cartons were scattered around the tables, and paper sails were stuck into every conceivable place, including Myrtle’s new hairdo. Grown men were shooting each other with the wooden muskets, and Harold was calling a town meeting to decide who should go out and kill the Indians. Orderlies were trying to settle everybody down.
Autumn sat next to Lillian. “Hi, Lil, how’s it going?”
“Disastrously. They made me be a stupid Pilgrim when I wanted to be an Indian. Now, they won’t even help me pick a good Pilgrim name.”
Autumn looked across the table at Nurse Harris, who shrugged and said, “I could only come up with Priscilla.”
“That’s a good one, Lil. What’s wrong with that?”
“Beatrice already took it.”
She thought for a moment. “How about Prudence? Faith? Hope? Or Charity?”
“Charity!” Lillian exclaimed. “I want to be a Charity.”
Autumn smiled. One problem solved. “Where’s Mary?”
“The fink deserted the sinking ship,” a fretful orderly shouted. “Claimed she had to check on something.”
Autumn stood and headed for the door. “I’ll go see if I can find her. Hang on for just a few more minutes. I’ll be right back.”
She was walking by the dining hall when a frantic Sarah dashed into the hall. “Oh, Lord, Autumn. We have a major problem.”
“What?”
“The scalping party has escaped, and we can’t find them.”
#
Thane parked his car and grinned. Everything was going perfectly. He had driven into Washington, D.C., that morning and informed his parents he had found the girl of his dreams. Amid all the questions, excitement, and congratulations, he assured them they would meet her soon. Thanksgiving evening, to be precise. Arrangement had been made for his parents to drive to Dogwood and stay at his apartment until he received Autumn’s father’s permission to pop the question to her. Confident of Autumn’s answer, he would announce that his parents were in town, invite them over to meet her family, and everyone would have a great time.
He climbed out of his car and politely nodded to three men dressed in suits heading his way across the parking lot. “Hello.”
“Lovely afternoon, isn’t it?”
Thane couldn’t have agreed more. “It’s a fantastic afternoon.”
“Do you work here?” one man asked.
“Yes, I’m Doctor Thane Clayborne. Can I help you?”
“This is Mark Hartman, Bob Wilson, and I’m Doctor Leonard Griffin. We’re from the Virginia Coalition of Retired Persons.”
Thane’s smile brightened. Today was indeed perfect. Maple Leaf was in top form. There was no way they couldn’t win the number-one spot. “Welcome, gentlemen.” He held out his hand. “We’ve been expecting you.”
The three men exchanged glances and shook his outstretched hand. “We hope this isn’t going to inconvenience you, the staff, and most important, the residents.”
“Nonsense.” Thane opened the door and ushered them in. “The residents love company. It adds an extra sparkle to their day.” He led the way down the main hall toward the director’s office. “Things are kind of quiet right now, but we’re planning a special event for Thanksgiving Day.” He continued to smile at the inspection team. “You should have stopped by for Halloween, we were really hopping then. . . .” His voice trailed off as the men stopped in the middle of the hall and stared off to their right.
Thane turned to see what they were staring at and groaned. Herman Bates, from Room 405, was sitting on the back of a stuffed goat. “Giddyup, you dumb horse.”
He calmly walked over. “Hi, Herman. Where did you find the horse?” If he stayed calm, maybe the inspection team wouldn’t sense that anything was wrong.
“Hi, Doc. I stole it from the Indian village.” He straightened his black construction-paper hat with the huge gold buckle glued on it. “Walked right in there and took it. Their watchdog didn’t even bark.”
Thane tried to make sense of what Herman was saying but couldn’t. “Which way is the village?”
“Straight ahead and to the left. You can’t miss it.”
Thane held out his hand and helped Herman from the back of the goat. Yep, that was what it was—a three-foot-tall goat. “How about showing us, Herman? We can return the horse. You know it’s not nice to steal another person’s property.”
Herman looked hesitantly down the hall. “I’ll let you have the horse, Doc, but I’m not sure about going back there. The Indians have already scalped three of the Pilgrims.”
Thane put his arm around Herman’s shoulder. “My friends and I will protect you. Won’t we, men?” He glanced at the three men and silently pleaded with them to humor his patient who was “seeing” Indians.
“Sure we will, Herman,” Bob said. “Indians don’t scare us.”
Thane smiled his thanks and led the group farther down the hall. His feet tripped over each other as they rounded a corner and he saw the paper teepee. He tried to think of a plausible reason why a teepee was in the main solarium, when he spotted a wire-mesh cage. Feathers coated the bottom of the cage, but more disturbing was the fact that the door was wide open and that it was empty. What had been in there?
He turned to the coalition team. “I know this looks a little strange, but . . .” A rubber-tipped arrow shot across the room and stuck to the wall, a mere foot in front of Mark Hartman’s nose.
Five pairs of eyes turned in the direction the arrow had come from. Harold stood poised with another arrow ready. Two of the shocking-pink feathers in his headband were bent, and his war paint looked suspiciously like eye shadow.
Herman was the first to find his voice. “Indians!”
Not only had Thane lost his voice, he was positive he had lost his mind as well. He glanced between the astonished faces of his distinguished guests and the Maybelline Warrior. “Harold, you could have poked someone’s eye out with that thing.”
Harold lowered the bow, held his hand palm out, and grunted, “How.”
“By shooting it into someone’s eye,” Thane muttered.
“Gee, Doc, don’t you know Injun?” Harold asked.
“No, and neither do you. How is not an Indian expression.” He glanced down the hall as a war cry erupted from somewhere in the home. “How many Indians are there, Harold?”
“There were eight, until the Pilgrims blasted poor Ned full of buckshot.”
Thane shuddered. He smiled painfully at the delegation. “Gentlemen, why don’t we locate our director, Mr. Baker? I’m sure you’re anxious to begin your tour.”
Bemused, the coalition watched as Herman slipped down the hall and Harold strutted over to the goat. “There you are, Trigger, I was wondering where you ran off to.”
The three men glanced at one another as Harold entered the teepee. Bob cleared his throat. “Lead the way, Doctor Clayborne.”
Thane stopped at the nurse’s station. “Evelyn, have you seen Mr. Baker?”
“He’s in the game room handling the uprising.”
Thane bit his lip. He refused to ask the obvious. Maybe if he acted as if there were nothing out of order, the coalition wouldn’t notice. He turned back to the waiting men and froze. Behind them was a turkey strutting down the hall.
“Doctor?”
Thane blinked and forced a smile as t
he bird disappeared into one of the male residents’ rooms. He hadn’t seen that, had he? “This way, gentlemen.”
A loud cry of triumph echoed down the hall, followed by a shrill scream. Thane’s group stood motionless as three victorious Indians in wheelchairs rolled their way down the hall waving a gray wig. Hatchets were wielded and whoops of jubilation bounced off the walls.
Thane had stepped in front of the war party, intending to put an end to the commotion, when he spotted Cora hobbling down the corridor brandishing her cane. “I’ve been scalped!” She cried. Her thin white hair, tightly shoved under a fine net, glistened under the lights.
Thane grabbed the wig from Russell and growled, “I’ll deal with you three later.” He handed Cora back her hair, asking, “Are you all right?”
Cora placed the wig on top of her head. “Never better, Doc.” She glared at the sheepishly departing Indians and shouted, “Where in the hell is John Wayne when you need him?”
Thane watched Cora storm back down the hall with her wig on backward and knew their chance at the number-one spot was going with her. A small chuckle escaped his lips. All this time he had thought Autumn would cause the downfall of Maple Leaf. He had been wrong. Maple Leaf was crashing on its own. Autumn was in her shop, blissfully unaware of the crash.
He might as well go all the way and have the inspection team witness everything. “Gentlemen, this way, please.”
Thane led the way down the hall. He smiled at Nurse Harris, who was guarding the double doors into the game room. “Hi, Nancy. Guarding the inmates?”
She chuckled and moved to the side. “You could say that.”
“This is Bob Wilson, Mark Hartman, and Doctor Leonard Griffin. They’re from the VCRP.”
She jumped back in front of Thane and blocked the doors. “You can’t go in there.”
“There’s nothing in there that could shock us further.”
“Please, Doc, why don’t you take these gentlemen” --she smiled sweetly-- “down to Mr. Baker’s office and get them some coffee?”
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