He might have insisted on having things his way or he might have allowed himself to be persuaded to try things Northstar’s way. No matter which way he’d chosen, the situation would not have blown up in her face.
But Susanna knew that corporate operations were corporate operations, and she was down on the food chain. Gerald’s explanation told her everything she needed to know. Her opinion would not reinvent the way Northstar operated.
But she was hurt by his disregard for her personally, and quite honestly, for Jay, too. Maybe he was micromanaging, but only because he cared. So much. He’d gone above and beyond to handle Northstar with integrity, but Northstar hadn’t returned the favor. Why? Because they knew how much Jay wanted to leave The Arbors? Or because they didn’t take his demands seriously?
Susanna didn’t know.
“Let’s see what Jay does next,” Gerald suggested. “He’ll either push the issue or back off. The ball’s in his court now. Let’s leave it there. You proceed exactly as you’ve been unless I tell you otherwise. If it’s taken Jay this long to realize you’re not an old hand at memory care and property administration, then you’re doing everything right. There’s still plenty of time to reassure Jay The Arbors is in good hands. You’ll do that without trying too hard. Do you hear me?”
“I hear you.” The words were all she could manage past the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.
“Okay, then enjoy the night and I’ll let you know if I hear from Jay. Otherwise, just keep doing what you’re doing. Everyone at corporate is content with the progress you’re making down there. That’s all that matters.”
No, Susanna wanted to say. That wasn’t all that mattered. Instead, she said, “I hope you’re right.”
After disconnecting the call, she rocked back in her chair and willed the night breeze to cool her clammy skin and the unfamiliar sounds of the forest to soothe her anxiety.
She’d considered Gerald a friend, but apparently when friendship and business collided, business took precedence. No matter how Susanna viewed the situation, she still came back to feeling as if Gerald had used her to manipulate Jay.
A property administrator with experience in memory care.
Was that really unreasonable? Susanna didn’t think so. Jay was the best person to make that determination about The Arbors. Not only was he the person who knew the place best, but he was the person who cared the most.
Susanna couldn’t help but remember the way Jay had sat beside Mr. Jankowski’s bed during the examination. He’d explained what was happening in his calm voice, why it was okay. And now that Susanna viewed the situation through the filter of Jay’s insights about memory care, she understood what he’d been doing—bridging the distance between Mr. Jankowski and an unusually busy room with lots of unfamiliar activity.
In many regards, his care of Mr. Jankowski—and that of Kimberly, Pete and Dr. Smith—hadn’t been any different than the level of care at Greywacke Lodge. All employees brought something different to the table, but the bottom line was about meeting the residents’ needs. The caring environment was one of the things she enjoyed about working in senior living.
Dealing with Alzheimer’s meant the care went one step further. Would she learn to gauge a resident’s needs with the sort of instinct Jay had demonstrated today? Or was instinct inherent to a man who’d been reared in this environment? If that was the case, then Jay had every right to worry about who succeeded him, because no one could replace him.
Not her. Not anyone.
And that was the real tragedy, because so many people relied upon him. Why was he determined to leave?
Susanna didn’t know, but she wanted to.
* * *
JAY AND THE DOGS CLAMBERED up the gallery steps to the house. If he’d have known he would be coming home this late, he’d have left on a porch light.
His home had never felt quieter than it did in the dark, such a striking contrast to a long day in the busy facility, always noisy but for the rare occasions of illness quarantine.
The instant the door opened, the dogs rushed past him, making a beeline for the kitchen and dinner.
“Like I’m starving you,” he said to no one in particular as Butters and Gatsby were long gone, their nails tapping over wooden floors in the distance.
Flipping on lights, he strode through the foyer, glancing at the mantel inside the drawing room as he passed.
He remembered telling Susanna about his mother’s obsession, but wasn’t sure where that impulse had come from because he honestly couldn’t remember how long it had been since he’d noticed the mantels. Since before his mother had died, at least. Three years. Where had all that time gone?
Jay knew the answer—The Arbors.
He hadn’t lived one minute, just kept waking up every day, doing what everyone needed him to do, meeting everyone’s needs but his own, walking by his mother’s mantels without even seeing them or any of the memories inside this house. He couldn’t reclaim a second of that lost time, but he could stop losing more. He went through his nighttime routine.
Feed the dogs.
Change out of his work clothes.
Grab dinner if he was hungry, a beer if he wasn’t, and get started on his chores.
Something always needed to be done around here, which answered the question about why he hadn’t thought about those long-ago excursions hunting for treasures. If he had, he’d have moved on long ago. These old houses were nonstop work. No wonder so many were torn down when there was no longer family willing to deal with the constant upkeep. He wasn’t willing anymore, either.
Tonight was definitely a beer night. Maybe even a two-beer night after Susanna’s surprises.
Independent living.
He still couldn’t figure out what to do. She had seemed so promising. The perfect property administrator. Or had he only seen what he wanted to see because he was so damn desperate to get out of here?
To be fair, she had seemed perfect on the surface. She learned quickly, was organized and worked well with the staff. A good administrator from all appearances. He’d meant what he’d said about her work. She was good.
Good wasn’t enough.
The new administrator needed the compassion to care and the experience to handle the unexpected situations that arose with the residents, their families, the staff.
The new administrator needed a strong foundation in facility administration and memory care. With those pieces firmly in place, he or she could then learn all about the things that made The Arbors unique and steer the facility into the future in step with evolving Alzheimer’s care.
The Arbors couldn’t be allowed to simply become a care facility for its residents, a place for them to mark forgotten time, cared for in a safe environment so family members didn’t have to worry.
That was never his grandmother’s intention. She wanted to provide quality of life and that meant staying on the cutting edge of research and making a difference in the fight against the disease.
Jay had been barely living up to the family legacy. Barely. The new administrator would come in, backed by corporate muscle that would provide the resources to continue the fight. He wasn’t deluding himself into thinking this would be an easy role to fill, which was why he’d gone to Northstar in the first place. They were unparalleled in management staffing and had experience in top-notch senior care.
If any company could produce a person capable of replacing Jay, Northstar could. But instead of the perfec
t administrator, they’d sent Susanna, who needed on-the-job training. Jay wasn’t opposed to providing that training, either, but six months couldn’t possibly replace years of experience and familiarity with Alzheimer’s. What happened after Jay left? What happened when something unexpected came up and he wasn’t around?
Why did everything have to be so damned complicated, anyway? All Jay wanted was to move on. A new career. A new home. A new life with people in it who could remember his name or didn’t always need something from him.
He wanted to be out from under the nonstop work, the never-ending obligation. He wanted to do something other than slave over this place night and day. He wanted to wake up one morning, blow off work and take the dogs to the coast.
He wanted to reconnect with friends and kick back with a beer in the middle of the afternoon to watch a game. He wanted to go to bed one night without the seven thousand things he hadn’t accomplished during the day cluttering his brain.
Was that really so much to ask?
Butters and Gatsby abandoned him to sleep off their turkey dinner on the sofa in the family room. Had his grandmother been alive, she’d have shooed them off the furniture. They’d have shooed, too—until she turned her back and they hopped on again.
Jay didn’t bother. “You two rest after your tough day.”
Opening the beer bottle, he headed upstairs to remove the baseboards in his grandmother’s bathroom. If he got them off tonight, he could wipe them down with bleach to kill any mold growing on the plaster after the flood last weekend, compliments of a broken ball cock.
Not a big deal, just one more pain-in-the-butt problem that dictated every minute of every day when he wasn’t in the facility. Jay supposed he should be grateful to do anything that didn’t involve scheduling 250 employees or reviewing budget reports or selling The Arbors’ services to potential residents’ families. But he’d inherited home improvement as a hobby. He’d rather be kayaking.
What difference did moldy baseboards make, anyway? For all Jay knew, Northstar could level the house and all this effort would be wasted. But could he pursue the acquisition when Northstar was yanking his chain?
The baseboard snapped in his hands.
“Damn it.” Now he’d have to replace it. Or try to, because like everything else around this antiquated house, replacements were always a problem. The standard size of everything from 1888 didn’t translate into the twenty-first century. Not a baseboard. Not a breaker. Not a nut. Not a bolt.
Not even a property administrator.
“Damn it,” he said again because it made him feel better.
Dropping the baseboard on the floor, Jay leaned against the tub and took a deep swig of beer.
Was it really too much to ask for Northstar to send an administrator with more than thirty-five beds worth of memory-care experience?
With some actual administrator experience?
Sinking his fingers in his hair, he pushed it back and tipped the bottle to his lips again. If Northstar got someone else in here, someone experienced this time, Jay would have to start the transition period over again. Five weeks wasted.
He’d lived his entire life in this house and now he honestly didn’t know if he could survive another six months.
God, he was tired. Too tired to even try to sift through his options. He didn’t see any.
Fight with Northstar then trust them to provide what Jay had originally asked for?
Look for another management company? Northstar was supposed to be the best. They were definitely the largest that staffed senior living facilities, some even exclusively memory care.
Except for Greywacke Lodge.
But finding a replacement for Northstar—if one existed—would take the one thing Jay didn’t have to give—more time.
“So you’re saying you won’t close the deal if you’re unhappy with Ms. Susanna Adams?”
Walter’s words seemed so prophetic now. How could Jay not have noticed her inexperience?
That was the one answer that came easily tonight. He hadn’t been looking closely enough at her skill set because he was too busy looking at her. Her delicate curves and her sweet smiles and listening to her silvery laughter. She was one very beautiful distraction.
And he was so desperate to feel some spark of life that he’d been rushing into work every morning, suddenly not minding all the sameness and the demands. He’d told himself the burden of this place had felt lighter because the transition period was finally underway. He could see the end in sight.
But he realized now he’d been seeing Susanna.
He was so damned starved to feel something other than the crushing sense of obligation that he’d only seen what he’d wanted to see and ignored the rest.
What a pathetic commentary about his life.
His pseudo life. He needed a real one. A life that involved more than residents and employees as his constant companions. How long had it been since he’d accepted an invitation to a game, to a party, to a wedding?
So long everyone he’d known had stopped asking.
Jay set the bottle on the floor with a loud clink of glass against tile. Pushing to his feet, he left the bathroom and went into his room to grab his iPod. He had to get out of his head before he drove himself crazy. Or broke more baseboards.
While passing through the sitting room of his suite, he spotted a flicker of a light in his periphery and turned to gaze out the window in that direction.
His house sat on a rise, so he could make out the dark silhouette of the cottage through the trees. It had been a long time since anyone had used the guesthouse, and the sight startled him.
Susanna.
One light went on. Another went off.
He knew what she was doing—moving from the living room to the kitchen. Turning on one light before shutting off the other.
Was she just now getting around to dinner? Seemed kind of late, but for all he knew she liked late meals. Widowed working woman raising kids. Couldn’t have been early by the time she got home and made dinner. Or maybe her kids had prepared dinner. Mom had taught him and Drew to cook. Drew hadn’t been that fond doing anything but eating, but Jay liked cooking.
Well, once he had. Nowadays, Liz sent meals to his office and he ate at the facility. He couldn’t actually remember the last time he’d cooked a real meal. Back in the days when Jay had brought dates home, he would break out Mom’s cookbooks. He always impressed women with his cooking skills. Usually he impressed them right into bed.
One more sad commentary on how his life had melted into work until they’d become one. No wonder he was crawling to get out of here. Work was sucking the life out of him.
Another light shone from the back of the cottage. The bedroom. Then, sure enough, the kitchen light went off.
Jay had no clue what she might be doing. He only knew that he didn’t want to be wondering, standing here on the outside looking in. He wanted a real life with a real woman he could be involved with, not a woman attached to work who was only distracting him from how miserable he was.
He was calling Northstar in the morning.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SUSANNA INHALED DEEPLY, a breath filled with wet air and fragrance. Scents overlapped each other. Gardenia. Magnolia. Clematis. Hyacinth.
Today was the perfect spring day. The sort of day where the very idea of work was sacrilege. She pushed the thought away with barely an effort because today was about appreciation and wonder
and reminders about what was important in life.
Life itself.
Every aromatic breath was a gift, a reminder that the people in her life were the only thing that mattered. These perfect days were about renewing her spirit the way the world renewed, springing to life after a healing winter sleep.
Healing. She saw renewal everywhere. In the electric colors of the landscape. Hues so alive they tempted her to reach for silken petals, to run reverent fingertips along the weathered wood of the arbor. Even the whites distinguished themselves in the blooms of the magnolia, the clematis, strikingly different from the towering piles of clouds in the sky.
The sun shone through the spring foliage, cast an intricate dappling of light and shadow on the grass as she stood beneath the arbors. She belonged here. Every step she had ever taken in her life led to this place.
Now.
The only moment that mattered. The only moment that was hers to savor. A moment filled with magnolias unfurling to catch the sun in petal-palms, wisteria dripping in swollen bunches, so impossibly heavy that a gentle spring rain might snap their fragile stems and send them tumbling to the grass.
The mere thought of rain brought the realization of thirst, how parched she was in the heat of this partial sun, no different than this lush landscape, which craved moisture to nourish and refresh.
The realization of thirst brought sudden rain, only the sound at first, the gentle tap, tap, tapping against the shelter of overhanging branches and leaves. A shower of warm droplets that rooted out tiny cracks and niggled in, through leaves and lattice in a delicate descent.
Her skin thirsted for the rain as her spirit craved the simple joy of life, this reminder that routine made the days blur together, the effort she focused on work, only the means to an end. The end is all about the people who populate her world.
Helping them through their days.
Providing for herself and her kids.
The Time of Her Life Page 10