Butters and Gatsby liked Susanna. Jay wouldn’t admit this aloud, but he could tell everything he needed to know about a person from his dogs. They were the best yardstick. Might sound crazy but he’d learned the trick while trailing his great-grandfather to the barns when this place had still incorporated a farm.
“Animals will tell you what’s going on in a person’s heart,” Great-Granddad had said. He’d been gesturing to the goats and herd dogs, but he’d meant all the animals on the farm. “If they shy away, you’ll do well to shy away, too.”
Wisdom or wives’ tale, Jay couldn’t say, but the advice had stuck and hadn’t yet failed in all these years.
“Lose anyone?” Susanna’s voice brimmed with laughter as she appeared with the dogs flanking her, their shaggy tails wagging close to lamps and knickknacks.
She’d already changed from her work clothes into jeans and a pullover sweater that outlined her trim curves.
“Boys,” Jay said, and both dogs finally decided to show some manners by obeying the command. “Sorry about that.”
“Not a problem. They’re such sweethearts. I invited them to visit any time they like. And I promised some treats as soon as I shop.” Reaching down to ruffle Gatsby’s chest, she displayed a wedge of creamy skin when her sweater rode up on her waist. “Sorry, boys. I’ve got grocery shopping on my to-do list, but I can’t seem to get there.” She glanced at Jay. “What do they like if and when I do actually make it to a store?”
It was such an innocent glance to accompany an innocent question. She was being nice, he knew, but when he met her gaze, her eyes so blue they looked almost purple, her one nice gesture drove home how closely their lives had become entwined in the short time since her arrival.
He wondered what she’d been eating if she hadn’t shopped. Liz, the dietary manager, had been sending lunches to Susanna’s office, but that couldn’t be all Susanna was eating, could it?
“Dog bones if they’re eating like dogs. Chicken and steak when they’re not.”
She smiled in that quick way of hers, as if she was just looking for reasons to smile. “They’re in luck, then. Dog bones will go on the grocery list, and I cook chicken and steak.”
“If you spoil them, you’ll never get rid of them. Consider yourself warned.”
“They’re welcome here anytime.”
The greedy beggars could spot a sucker a mile away. They crowded around her legs until she felt obligated to pet them and make those squeaky cooing sounds again. Jay took the opportunity to shoot off a text to Pete, who was duty manager tonight.
“So how are you settling in?” Jay asked when she finally realized the dogs would vie for her undivided attention all day if she let them. “Place working out? It’s small.”
“It is,” she agreed, “but it couldn’t be more perfect.”
That smile still tugged at the corners of her mouth as she surveyed the room, looking pleased. “Just me here.”
“Saw the pictures of your kids all over the place. Will they be coming to visit?”
She nodded, her features softening with a mother’s expression, all fond memories and love. “Hopefully Thanksgiving. My son plays baseball, so his schedule can be tricky with practice and ball camps.”
There was a lot of longing in that statement, which said something about how much she cared. Something reassuring, which calmed a bit of the guilt that still crept up when he least expected it. And when he did.
Was he being selfish to want the kind of life that made him sound like Susanna did, a life where he had something more to look forward to than home repairs, the never-ending needs of the facility and dementia? Was that really too much to ask? He still lived in the house he’d been born in. He’d put in his time.
“I know you haven’t asked for my advice, Susanna, but I’m going to give it, anyway. Make a point to get off the property. There’s a lot going on in town, and it’s good to get away. The Arbors has a way of commandeering time. We call it Standard Arbor Time and it’s nonstop, around the clock.”
“I think I’ve seen a glimpse of that this week.” She sounded charmed by the idea.
Jay supposed he shouldn’t be surprised, with the way she worked from sunup to sundown. But something told him busy was exactly the way she wanted to be right now. Funny how life had them in exactly the opposite places. She’d reared her family and wanted to be busy. He wanted to get busy rearing a family and filling his days with something other than dementia care.
He wondered how long ago her husband had died. Had his death been unexpected? Jay didn’t ask. Her personal life was none of his business even if there had been some tactful way to ask about a dead spouse. There wasn’t.
Leaning against the arch separating living room from dining room, she folded her arms over her chest. “Amber mentioned a mall by the racetrack. And I read about a historic plantation I’d like to visit that’s not far from here.”
“That’s a start.” And then they were staring at each other across the expanse of newly polished floors and overly friendly dogs. He might have kept standing and staring except Butters sidled toward the wall shelves, knocking some sense into Jay.
“The golf cart?” he prompted, forcing himself to stop enjoying the view. “It’s easy to operate, but you need to know about the battery. Chester will keep his eye on it. You let him know when it needs to be fueled.”
“I can park it near the maintenance and engineering shed where you keep yours?”
He nodded.
“Please show me whatever you think I need to know. I didn’t mean to keep you. You were kind to offer your help.”
Pushing away from the wall, she breezed past him with that same breathless energy and graceful motion he noticed every time he looked at her. She headed outside and he moved to follow, but the dogs cut him off, nearly knocking him over in their haste to trail her. Sorry beasts.
Jay headed after them, making sure he didn’t pay attention to the gentle sway of Susanna’s hips as she took the stairs with light steps or to the dark curls bouncing on her shoulders. She chatted the whole way as if she didn’t want to hear any more silence between them, either.
“I understand from Gerald that your grandmother is responsible for building the main facility. What about this cottage? There are so many antiques.”
“This place was my mother’s.” Her hideaway from the world.
“She collected antiques?”
“Sort of. Stuff she picked up here and there. My place is filled to the brim. She has a collection of mantels. You’ll have to see them one day.”
Had he just invited Susanna to his place?
There was a hitch in her step as she slanted a curious gaze his way. “Mantels? As in fireplaces?”
“You got it. I’ve got mantels without fireplaces attached to them. She turned one into a bed frame. She was crazy for them. Doors and windows, too. Used to drag the family to pick through old buildings while most folks were doing yardwork or watching Saturday morning cartoons.”
“The mantel in my living room?”
“From a pre-Civil War cypress cottage near the coast. Took her a while to bring that one back to its original finish. It had taken a beating from being so close to the salt water.”
Susanna stepped up her pace again. “Humph. How imaginative. I would never have thought of anything so creative.”
“She was that.” Before Alzheimer’s claimed her, and all he had left of his loving, laughing and infinitely creative mother was a
bunch of mantels, doorknobs and windowsills.
“I for one am very grateful,” Susanna said graciously. “Did she use this as the guest cottage?”
“Sometimes. When we had guests who didn’t want to stay in the house with us. She had some cousins who used to visit from Ireland. They were older and with my brother and I tearing around like wild boys... Well, let’s say they enjoyed a place where they could go for some quiet. My mother, too. She used the cottage for work. She liked to leave the house and have a place where she could concentrate without too many distractions.”
“Work?” Susanna’s interest piqued visibly. “Your mother didn’t work at The Arbors?”
“Everyone in my family worked at The Arbors.” Past tense. Wasn’t anyone left but him. Except for Drew, who didn’t count, but Jay wouldn’t dwell on something he couldn’t change. And he couldn’t change his brother. “My mother was a writer, too. Whenever she was on deadline, she liked to wrap her head around her work. Used to tell my brother and me not to show up unless we were bleeding.”
Susanna went to the passenger side of the golf cart. “I’ve said the same to my kids.”
Jay would take her word for it, since he hadn’t gotten to that part of his life yet. “Ever drive one of these before?”
Susanna shook her head, more glossy waves tumbling around her neck and shoulders in a display that was so feminine, so at odds with her ultra-businesslike appearance.
But not right now. Not when she was casually dressed, all tiny and curvy and tucking her waves behind her ears as she leaned eagerly toward the controls for instruction.
Circling the golf cart, he hopped in and explained the basics. He showed her how to disconnect the battery when she parked the vehicle then took her for a spin to the access road, with the dogs trotting beside him as they always did.
Then they swapped seats and she took him for a spin, starting off tentatively but increasing speed as she gained confidence.
“Not so close, Butters,” she shrieked while making a turn. “They won’t get too close and get hurt?”
“Not a chance. They keep up with me all the time. Have since they were pups. And if they don’t get out of the way of a moving vehicle they deserve what they get.”
He had to work to keep a straight face as he enjoyed her horrified expression. “They’ll move if you get too close.”
“Keep your distance, Butters. I’m serious.”
“That your mom voice?”
She scowled at him, and he lost the battle with a smile.
“So what did your mother write?” she asked after another lap around the cottage.
“Fiction. Literary stuff for magazines. Short stories mostly. Had a few anthology collections published.”
Slowing as she cornered the house yet again, she paid close attention to the dogs as she parked. “How interesting. I bet she got lots of inspiration from around here. From what I’ve seen so far, this place is another world.”
“Oh, it’s that. No question.”
She chuckled, taking the opportunity to ruffle Butters’s neck when he nuzzled up to her. “Keep out from under the tires. Promise me.”
The dog was so greedy for attention he would have promised to live forever. Jay escorted Susanna back to the porch before heading out with his dogs again, but she stopped short and said, “Where on earth did that come from?”
Taking the stairs with light steps, she made an attractive display as she leaned over the big basket propped in a rocking chair. Even in profile, he could see her expression soften as she inspected the gifts.
Perfect timing, Pete.
“Guess I should have had it waiting when you got here a week ago,” he admitted. “But I didn’t think about it until you said you hadn’t made it to the grocery. Welcome to The Arbors.”
“Oh, Jay, how kind. Thank you so much. This couldn’t be more perfect.” She looked as if she was going to pick up the basket, so Jay skipped up a few steps and took it from her.
“Tell me where.”
She held the door as he stepped through, or tried to, since the dogs bullied their way in first. “Kitchen, please.”
He scowled at Gatsby, who headed straight for the sofa. “Don’t even think about it.”
For once the dog obeyed.
“I’m so excited,” she said. “I won’t even have to fight my kids for the chocolate. That’ll be something new.”
The new director of The Arbors had a sweet tooth from the looks of it. She was rooting through the basket. “These pears are gorgeous. And caramel popcorn. Oh, I’m in for a good time.”
“Hope you enjoy it.”
She glanced up and met his gaze with pleasure deep in her blue eyes. “This was really sweet. Thank you. I couldn’t have asked for a better first week—work or home.”
She was making too big a deal out of his effort. All he’d done was text Pete to bring the same welcome basket they gave to all The Arbors’ new ALF residents.
But he was glad she liked everything.
Herding Butters and Gatsby outside, he let the dogs scamper down the steps and said to Susanna, “Enjoy your night.”
Then he headed in the direction of the shed to pick up the path to his house, resisting the urge to glance back to see if she was still there.
* * *
ANOTHER WEEK PASSED before Susanna managed to get the golf cart out of her shed. A frenzied week spent learning names and procedures and routines. A week spent observing medical assessments, intake meetings and care plan evaluations.
A week spent conducting performance appraisals of the various departments and orientation meetings to explain how she and Jay would work together during the transition. She let the staff know what to expect and coached them on how to address her with problems and questions. She reassured them all would be well and hoped they believed her.
Vanity had been the biggest deterrent to driving the golf cart. She was all about inspiring confidence with the staff and fitting in and couldn’t gauge the effect of the drive on her appearance. Frizzy hair? Melting makeup? Sweat stains?
But she’d begun to feel ridiculous and wasteful for taking the car on the short drive, when Jay arrived at the facility every morning with every hair in place. Except for the hair he was always pushing back off his forehead, but Susanna guessed that was a result of a cowlick rather than the morning ride.
She waited until dawn began to fade the sky before heading outside. She hadn’t wanted to tackle the unfamiliar path in the dark even though she’d been raring to go for an hour already.
Two weeks into her new life and the nerves still hadn’t worn off. She crashed at night, bone weary from the long days of information overload. Unfortunately, she was still bolting upright as quickly as she had upon first arriving at The Arbors, and usually long before the alarm, thoughts racing with the upcoming day’s agenda.
With any luck, the ride in the brisk predawn air would start her day off right. God knows she could use some fresh air.
Then there was the fact that she didn’t want to miss anything on this journey. Especially not Jay’s house.
Her phone vibrated as she clambered into the golf cart, and she hoped her plans wouldn’t be derailed by an emergency at the facility that would force her back into the car.
But the name on the display surprised her. “Good morning, Karan. What are you doing up at this ungodly hour?”
“Your guess,” Karan replied. “Saw Charles off to surgery and wa
s wide-awake. Figured I’d give you a call since you’re the only one I know awake at this hour besides my doctor husband.”
Susanna held the phone to her ear and backed out of the shed slowly. “You’re in time for a journey through the arbors to The Arbors.”
“Maybe I’m not as awake as I thought—”
“Remember those acres and acres of flowers I mentioned? I’m taking the golf cart to work so I can see them.”
“I hope you don’t wilt like a flower. Isn’t that what you Southern belles do?”
“I don’t think I’ve been here long enough to qualify as a girl raised in the South.”
“Pshaw. You’ve been a G.R.I.T. from the minute you crossed the Mason-Dixon Line. A Girl Relocated to the South.”
“Tee-hee.”
“You sound awfully chipper this morning,” Karan said. “May I assume work’s going well and you’re getting some sleep?”
One out of two wasn’t bad, and some sleep was relative. “Can’t complain. I’m finally going to see Jay’s house. It should be right off this path.”
“I thought you were supposed to assess the place.”
“Not on the top of my to-do list. That report won’t be due until the acquisition.”
“You sound confident. Things must be going well.”
Susanna held on tight as the cart bucked over a protruding tree root. “We’ve hit a few bumps, but nothing we haven’t been able to work through.”
Yet. They hadn’t tackled the profit-and-loss statements, either. Jay insisted on full disclosure so he could gauge the corporate effects on The Arbors, and she was using every ounce of her financial expertise to figure out how wide the disconnect was between his services and payroll and Northstar’s parameters. Juggling was the key, which put sleepless hours to good use.
“We’re still in the honeymoon phase,” Susanna admitted. “Jay’s walking me through the way things work at The Arbors so we haven’t done a lot of procedural projections. There’s time.”
The Time of Her Life Page 6