The Time of Her Life

by Jeanie London

  The deal wouldn’t fall through. “We’ve got to assume some risk. It’s only fair. Northstar would acquire this property tomorrow if it wasn’t for me insisting on a transition period.”

  As much as Jay wanted out of here—and he did in a big way—he couldn’t leave without witnessing Northstar’s procedural changes and being reassured they would uphold The Arbors’ standard of care. This new administrator had six months to actualize Northstar’s promise to provide growth potential while maintaining the excellence of service established by Jay, and generations of his family before him.

  That was the best he could do. He was leaving, although Walter still hadn’t given up hope he might yet dissuade Jay. But the decision was made. He’d worked hard to put together a plan to insure the future for The Arbors, the staff and residents.

  Walter could grouse all he wanted—the only thing left to do was get through the transition. Jay almost felt bad for the new administrator. Walter wouldn’t be a pushover. He’d compare her to Gran, whose shoes were awfully big to fill, as he was so fond of saying. So big that not even Jay had filled them.

  But Walter only wanted what was best for The Arbors. That much Jay knew. The rest of the staff, too. They were all competent and experienced professionals. Well versed in what it meant to be an employee at The Arbors.

  The Compassion to Care.

  That catchphrase had been around since the very beginning, when Gran had started the place to care for her mother during an era when not much had been known about Alzheimer’s disease.

  Gran had wanted to provide some quality of life, so she’d transformed a wing of the house on Granddad’s farm into an ALF, an assisted-living facility. This was long before Jay’s time, but he knew she’d added one bed at a time so her mother would have pleasant companions to fill her days.

  Gran had learned all she could about Alzheimer’s care and kept up with the research. Her tiny ALF had grown from one bed in the main house to one hundred and twenty beds in a new three-story facility with a nursing center on the ground floor. The Arbors had become an A-list memory-care community with a long waiting list for admission.

  Would this around-forty widow with college kids have the compassion and ability to carry on Gran’s legacy? Northstar Management had promised to send the perfect person to replace him so he could get on with living his life. Finally.

  He’d given so much to this place that, if he didn’t get out soon, there would be nothing left of him. This place was sucking him dry.

  “And you really won’t close the deal if you’re unhappy with—what’s her name again?” Walter asked.

  “Ms. Adams. Ms. Susanna Adams.”

  “If you’re unhappy with Ms. Susanna Adams?” Everything about Walter, from the creased white eyebrows to the hard stare in his eyes, which still read between the lines, broadcast his doubt.

  “Really, Walter? You’re questioning my integrity?”

  He shook his head. “Just your ability to see clearly.”

  The same could be said about Walter and his stubborn refusal to even consider a future with Northstar. He’d seized any chance to talk some sense into Jay, had been rallying the troops to his side at every opportunity.

  Fortunately, the troops knew who signed the paychecks and didn’t have Walter’s personal family ties to risk the potential consequences of a mutiny. Jay had shocked them all with his decision to sell. Now he was a wild card, and no one was sure how hard they could push him. Jay knew that as well as he knew everyone in The Arbors. If he hadn’t hired an employee personally, his mom, dad, gran or granddad had.

  “I’ve covered all the bases, Walter. You know how many hours I spent with the attorneys creating the contracts. I know you didn’t forget because they billed you. And Alzheimer’s isn’t contagious. Not even with as many years as you’ve been here.”

  Walter folded his arms over his chest, rocked back on his saddle shoes with his mouth compressed into a tight line. He’d promised Gran to look after the place until his dying breath, and he meant to do exactly that. Did all this stubborn resistance stem from worry that the new owners might force him to retire because of his age?

  Jay hadn’t considered that before. “The very last thing I want is for the residents to sacrifice standard of care or my employees their jobs.”

  “Former employees.”

  “Not yet they’re not. And not until I’m sure everything is moving in the right direction.” The twenty-first century, to be exact. “I’ll never expand The Arbors as a private company the way Northstar can with Fortune 500 financial backing. They’re top-notch in senior care. The absolute best in the nation. We need to stay on the cutting edge with research so we can continue to provide the care Gran wanted.”

  “You’re on the cutting edge. Your grandmother single-handedly got the Alzheimer’s Association to fund the research at University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. She’d have talked them into conducting it right here in Charlotte if UNC had been outfitted to handle the clinical trials.”

  “Seven years ago.” Before everything had changed. Before his mom had wound up a resident in the facility she’d once help run. Before Gran had died. Before his dad had died. Before Mom had died. Before everything had become Jay’s responsibility.

  “Don’t see why you can’t do the same, Jay.”

  Jay was not going to defend himself, not standing in the hallway whispering. Walter was dead wrong on this, whether or not he admitted it. Gran had had Granddad to help, and income from the farm to foot the bills while she devoted herself to her Alzheimer’s crusade. She’d had Mom to help before she’d had to care for Mom, and Dad to help after Mom couldn’t. After Dad had died, Gran had Jay.

  Jay didn’t have anyone. Well, there was Drew, of course. Major Drew Canady, Jay’s older brother who’d been smart enough to run off and join the Marines. He’d seen the handwriting on the wall and had made sure he wouldn’t be around to get stuck running the family business.

  Now Drew had a life when Jay couldn’t even remember the last time he’d done anything but spend every waking moment dealing with the never-ending demands of this place. Dementia care frightened off most women fast, and he didn’t have time for his friends anymore.

  So when in hell was Jay supposed to make time to lobby the state legislature or Alzheimer’s Association or pharmaceutical corporations or private medical research facilities and run The Arbors with its endless assessments, intakes, evaluations and treatment plans?

  There were two hundred and fifty employees. There were one hundred and twenty residents, and most came with families who needed to be reassured, educated, informed and answered to about quality of care. There were volunteers and private companions and churches and all the outside resources that ministered to the residents to provide quality of life.

  And quality of death. How many nights had Jay hoofed it here in the dark to meet funeral directors and deal with grieving families after a resident died?

  Walter knew better than anyone what running this place entailed, and he’d heard all these arguments before. He might not want to retire until he was wheeled out of his office on a gurney, but he wouldn’t live forever.

  Neither would Jay, and he had no intention of spending the rest of his life without actually living. And life wouldn’t start until he left The Arbors.

  * * *

  SUSANNA SMILED AT THE young woman behind the reception desk, who didn’t appear much older than Brooke.

  “Goo
d morning,” the girl said, the lilt to her voice all Southern charm and novelty to a born-and-bred Yankee.

  “Good morning.” Susanna handed a business card to the young woman whose engraved badge identified her as Amber.

  Susanna had already reviewed personnel files, so this young woman must be...

  Amber Snelling, first-shift receptionist.

  Currently working on her BSc in Operations Management.

  Daughter of the Activity Director.

  Amber glanced at the business card, eyes widening. “Ms. Adams!” She was on her feet instantly, extending a hand. “Welcome to The Arbors. We knew you were coming in today, but Mr. C. didn’t tell us when.”

  Mr. C. would be Jay Canady, administrator and owner. The man hadn’t told his staff when she would arrive, which meant he couldn’t be too worried about them being on their best behavior. That said something about Mr. C.’s confidence in his employees.

  “I came from Raleigh and wasn’t exactly sure how long the drive would take.”

  “Raleigh. Wow.” Amber said. “I hope Mr. C. brought you through Asheboro so you didn’t deal with the traffic on 85.”

  Mr. C. hadn’t brought her through Asheboro because Susanna had let her GPS lead the way. “I’m happy to report the traffic wasn’t bad at all.”

  Of course, traffic was relative, and Susanna only had New York to compare.

  “What time did you leave?” Amber asked.

  “Around five.”

  She glanced at her computer display. “Hmm. Not too bad. Mr. C. told everyone you’re from New York—as if I couldn’t tell from your accent. Have you been to Charlotte before?”

  Susanna shook her head.

  “Well, make sure you ask about shortcuts while you’re learning your way around. Of course, if you’re anything like Mr. C., you probably won’t get off the property all that much. But be aware that some shortcuts are better than others. Someone around here is bound to know which is which.”

  “Thanks, Amber. I’ll remember that.”

  Amber glanced in the direction of the administrative offices then surprised Susanna by continuing the conversation. “When you do manage to get out of here, visit Concord Mills. It’s a huge shopping mall by the Charlotte Speedway, so when you go make sure you plan to spend the whole day.”

  “Then I’ll have to bring my daughter when she comes to visit. Shopping is one of her favorite things to do.” When Mom was swiping the plastic, anyway.

  “Your daughter doesn’t live with you?”

  “Only in between semesters. She’s in her third year at William and Mary.”

  “I’m in my third year, too. At UNC. But I’m probably older than your daughter. I work here full-time, so I never take more than three classes. My degree is taking forever.”

  Susanna wasn’t sure how to reply and went the philosophical route. “I’m sure when all is said and done you’ll look back and think school took exactly as long as it should have.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  Did The Arbors encourage staff to be so friendly, and chatty, or was Susanna sampling real Southern hospitality? She didn’t want to cut off the conversation rudely, but she needed to let the owner know she was here, so she didn’t appear late.

  When she opened her mouth to prompt Amber, a man suddenly appeared with an older gentleman in step behind him.

  “Mr. C., Mr. Higgins. Guess who’s here?” Amber announced.

  “I see.” The younger of the two gentlemen inclined his head to acknowledge the receptionist. Then his gaze fixed on Susanna as he strode toward her, all broad shoulders and quick energy. His smile was wide and fast. “Jay Canady, Ms. Adams. Welcome to The Arbors. Walter Higgins, our CFO.”

  For a moment, Susanna stared. That voice. Deep-throated, like honey melted in whiskey, not a drawl, but soft, stretching vowels that made every syllable distinctive. It took another moment to realize he was waiting for a reply. She’d stopped breathing. Literally.

  What on earth was wrong with her?

  “A pleasure to meet you, gentlemen,” she managed. Then she was shaking hands and making more chitchat while distracting herself with memory associations so she wouldn’t forget names.

  Walter Higgins, dapper elderly chap with a bow tie. CFO, my old job.

  Jay Canady, aka Mr. C. The man who wants to sell off this gorgeous facility.

  Not that she would need a memory prompt to remember him.

  Susanna had reviewed the man’s biographical data. Although she knew he was thirty-two years old and the third generation to run this facility, Jay Canady wasn’t what she’d expected.

  He was all chiseled lines and ruthless masculinity. Neatly trimmed blond hair contrasted sun-scorched skin that suggested he spent time outdoors, a fact reinforced by his toned physique. And his eyes were the greenest green she’d ever seen.

  Susanna wasn’t sure what she expected a man who ran a memory-care facility to look like, but she hadn’t expected hints of David Beckham and Eomer from The Lord of the Rings.

  “Northstar promised to send us the perfect property director, and here you are,” Jay said.

  “Perfect for The Arbors, anyway,” she said quickly. “I can’t imagine any place lovelier. The drive from the gate was breathtaking.”

  “You should see the arbors in spring bloom,” Walter said.

  “She will,” Jay said. “But not until spring. Now let’s get you settled before the parade begins. Everyone wants to meet you. I’ll take you to your new office so you can settle in before I give you the dime tour.”

  The dime tour? How charming. With a polite hand on her elbow, Jay whisked her from the lobby and down a corridor of administrative offices.

  “Welcome to The Arbors, Ms. Adams,” Walter said about halfway down the hall. “Say the word when you’re ready to tour the financial offices. We run a tight ship. You’ll be pleased.”

  “I’m sure I will, Walter. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

  “The same.” If Walter had been wearing a hat, he would have tipped it. He was such a dashing gentleman.

  “I understand Walter’s been an employee since the beginning,” she said after he vanished into an office, leaving her alone with Jay.

  “Before, actually. My grandmother hired him before she ever broke ground on this place.”

  “That continuity of staff says a lot about your facility. It’s not common nowadays.”

  “Has plusses. Minuses, too. Our out-of-house tax attorney was around since the start, too, but he didn’t trust computers, so he wrote everything by hand.”

  “That must have presented some challenges,” she said diplomatically.

  Jay pulled a face. “He finally retired. We hired a new firm that conducts twenty-first-century business. But I suspect Northstar will reassign those out-of-house duties.”

  She liked that he put business practices immediately on the table. “Once we start going through everything, I’ll be able to tell you for certain. One of our partners is Rockport Investment Banking. I think you’ll approve their caliber of service.”

  Jay didn’t reply before they reached the office at the end of the hall labeled with a simple gold plate: Administrator.

  Pushing the door wide, he allowed her to precede him.

  The office must have cornered the building because two walls were nothing but floor-to-ceiling windows. The view beyond only proved The Arbors was heaven on earth. Beyond the manicured slope of lawn stretched a
lake, calmly reflecting the arbors that circled the far end and the towering forest that hid most of the main house from sight.

  She recognized pines and fir but there were other trees in glorious autumn bloom, bright splashes of color that hinted at how spectacular this view would be a little further into the season when the leaves really started to change.

  “What are those red trees?” she asked. “I’ve never seen anything like them.”

  “Around here we call them flaming trees.”

  “They’re gorgeous.” She wanted to take cell phone photos to send to her family and friends. “Tell me I’ll be able to work in here and not stare out these windows all day.”

  Jay smiled and seemed to like her response. Good. She needed to get off to a good start with this man.

  “I’m sure the view will inspire you to do remarkable work,” he said. “It’s tradition. One that needs to continue.”

  There was a warning in that sweet whiskey voice. Cocking a hip against the desk, she met his gaze. “Concerns?”

  “Just want to make sure we’re on the same page. I’ve been dealing with the suits and attorneys. They’re all quick to promise they can take The Arbors to the next level. I want that, but not at the expense of my residents or staff. The quality of care is what makes us unique. You’ll be in charge of making sure everyone’s taken care of. Thought I should put that up front so you know what I expect.”

  Hmm. Demanding, bossy even, but Susanna appreciated the honesty. Her own boss, Gerald Mayne, had warned her she’d have a tough job reassuring Jay that Northstar would continue the quality of service his family had established as a private facility. Jay took seriously his responsibility to those who relied upon him, which made her wonder why he was selling The Arbors at all. Gerald hadn’t shared that information.

  “That’s what I want, too, Jay.” Susanna meant it. “We’ve got six months together, and I intend to make this transition smooth and positive. That starts with understanding what you do around here. Then we can figure out how to implement policies and procedures to get The Arbors on board as a Northstar property. How does that sound?”