The Time of Her Life

by Jeanie London

  There wasn’t anything teasing about that Mother. Or the sour expression on her daughter’s beautiful face, showcased on the monitor compliments of the webcam.

  “Sorry about that. I meant to text you before bed last night, but I didn’t get out of here until late. Sweet little lady named Mrs. Harper had to go to the hospital. I was a bit rattled. I hope I didn’t worry you.”

  An impatient humph was Brooke’s only reply.

  Susanna grabbed the reins on this conversation fast. She was up to her eyeballs with work and couldn’t afford to end this telephone conversation with any less emotional energy than she had right now, which was precisely what would happen if she didn’t have a successful conversation with Brooke.

  She’d get off the phone running the emotional gauntlet about whatever was troubling her daughter and how she was unable to help because she was so far away. Then would come anxiety about whether or not she should have sold the house. After that would be guilt because a good mother would be able to figure out how to help her child, and if they lived closer, Susanna would be able to persist until she figured out how to help. Then the recriminations would start because a good mother would realize she couldn’t control everything in her child’s life nor should she want to.

  And nowhere in that swirling soup of emotion would there be an ounce of room left for work, or dealing with the crazily demanding, utterly impossible and thoroughly irresistible mentor/co-administrator.

  “So how’d your big exam go? Feeling good about it?”

  “I got an A.”

  “Oh, that was fast. Congratulations. Can’t say I’m surprised, though.”

  The compliment eased up Brooke’s disapproval just a bit. When Susanna looked at Brooke, she saw Skip, knew when they’d stood side by side—now only in photos—there was no missing the familial relationship. But the same could be said—and was often—about mother and daughter.

  Susanna recognized the fair skin, the delicate cheekbones and chin, but she also saw the startling blue of Skip’s eyes, the charming smile that managed to animate her daughter’s entire face. Brooke seemed to have taken the best of both parents and put them together to create her own unique and lovely self.

  “Have you figured out what we’re doing for Thanksgiving yet?” Brooke asked.

  Thanksgiving? Still a good week away, and nowadays Susanna didn’t deal with anything without a pop-up reminder on her computer calendar. Hmm. She might have hit the snooze on the first reminder now that she thought about it.

  “Now’s the perfect time. Let’s decide.”

  Brooke scowled. “What’s to decide? Brandon’s got that special training camp, so he can’t leave Columbia. I know because I already talked to him.”

  “So they’re starting camp on Wednesday? Bummer. I was really hoping they waited until Friday and ran straight through the weekend.”

  “The only day he’s not practicing is Thanksgiving.”

  “That does limit our options.”

  “We should still have a real Thanksgiving even if Brandon can’t get home.”

  Home.

  There it was. The problem.

  “I’d feel bad if we excluded your brother from his first college holiday away from his family.”

  Brooke shrugged, twisted around to grab a bottle of vitamin water off the windowsill beside her computer desk. “He’s the one with the scheduling problem.”

  “If we put our heads together, we can come up with something better. Remember, we’re establishing new traditions.”

  But no one had yet seen the picturesque cottage that had replaced home. They didn’t have a home base, and they were used to a mother who’d had the house decorated for Thanksgiving before they’d finished eating the Halloween candy.

  “It’s Thanksgiving, Mother. I took eighteen credit hours this semester. That’s six classes and I have been working in the tutoring lab, too. I’d like to get off campus for a few days before I have to start killing myself again for finals.” All that on one long breath.

  “I understand completely.” Oh, boy, did Susanna understand. She’d been dealing with Jay, going back and forth and back and forth on everything from Christmas bonus to coffee, which he said tasted horrible, anyway, so why shouldn’t they try to save a bit of money there?

  “Would you like to come here, Brooke? I can’t wait for you to see the cottage. You’re going to love it.”

  “But then it’s only you and me. What kind of Thanksgiving is that?”

  Brooke’s complaint was the very thing that had the ability to drive a spear through Susanna’s heart. Mom hadn’t lived up to her daughter’s expectations, hadn’t provided the homey holiday that memories were made of. That was what good mothers were supposed to do.

  But to Susanna’s surprise, she was able to shake out the spear without too much effort. Change didn’t come easily, after all, and establishing new routines would take some time.

  “Christmas is our holiday, not Thanksgiving,” Susanna reminded, shooting for some normalcy. Not everything had changed. “We always rotate, and this is Uncle Milton’s year. Nana and Papa are driving up to Maine. We were invited, of course, but this wasn’t a good time to make the trip. You helped me make that decision.”

  “But Grandma and Grandpa are going to be home alone.”

  Skip’s parents. “They’d rather come to Charlotte for Christmas when you and Brandon have more time off.”

  “But they’re going to be alone.”

  If we were home, they wouldn’t have to choose.

  Brooke didn’t say it, but Susanna heard it loud and clear, evidenced by her daughter’s sullen expression and the way she twisted the top of the vitamin water bottle, a vent for her agitation.

  “They’re old, Mother. We’re their only family since Daddy died. They shouldn’t have to pick and choose. We don’t have Grandma and Grandpa or Aunt Karan or Brandon. We don’t have anyone, so we can’t have a holiday. I think I’m going to the Outer Banks. I have some friends who aren’t heading home—”

  Amazing how a little distance made it so easy to see past the attitude to the hurt fueling it. “Aunt Karan and Uncle Charles will invite Grandma and Grandpa, so they’ll have a good time. You know the kind of parties Aunt Karan throws. And we always accommodate Brandon’s training schedule in some way or another on the holidays, but if you want to go with your friends to the beach, Brooke, it’s your holiday.”

  Brooke brought the bottle to her lips and took a long swig, silence her only reply as she reasoned through what to make of Susanna’s acquiescence. Susanna knew she’d surprised her daughter. Truth be told, she’d surprised herself.

  But this was Brooke’s holiday. If she chose not to spend it with family then she’d live with that choice. Might turn out to be a good choice. Or not. Either way she’d grow and learn.

  As much as Susanna wanted to be with her daughter on this all-important first Thanksgiving away from home, the urgency seemed to have faded. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe because they’d already distanced themselves from the long-standing holiday patterns. Or maybe suddenly the unknown future looked a little more exciting than scary. There was so much potential in creating new traditions.

  Brooke gave a shrug. “Well, I’m not entirely sure I want to tackle an Atlantic beach in November.”

  “Definitely be cold.” Susanna bit back a smile. “I have an idea. Why don’t we meet in Raleigh? We’ll spend the day before Thanksgiving shopping then drive down to South Carolin
a at night to surprise Brandon. We’ll have Thanksgiving together then be there for his game on Friday. You and I can head back to Raleigh, hit the stores again on Saturday—after all that Black Friday nonsense—and come home on Sunday with enough time to rest before the week starts again. How does that sound?”

  Some girl time sounded great to Susanna. So did a break from Jay Canady and his mood swings.

  And her own unruly reactions to him.

  Brooke took another swig to buy some time. Playing hard to get? Susanna couldn’t be sure, but she held her breath, hoping this might signal a bit of growth for their relationship, too. Mom and daughter with some genuine friendship thrown in. Another transition. Susanna would like that.

  “Shopping,” Brooke said with a sudden smile. “Sounds like a plan.”

  The perfect plan from Susanna’s perspective.

  * * *

  “ARE YOU SURE YOU DON’T want me to hang around, Jay?” Susanna asked. “I can rearrange my plans.”

  Jay met her gaze across the expanse of chairs in the hospital waiting room, where they’d come to touch base with Mrs. Harper’s family and make arrangements for her homecoming.

  News of Mrs. Harper’s release had arrived early on a Saturday morning.

  “No sense missing out on the holiday,” he told her. “Go see your kids and have fun. You’ve been working nonstop since you came to Charlotte. I wasn’t doing anything exciting, anyway.”

  “What will you do, then?”

  “Walter and I usually get together to watch football.”

  “Sounds relaxing. No typical big family get-together?”

  That simple question wasn’t simple at all coming from this woman. This question was personal, which meant she was interested in knowing more about him. And while Jay knew her interest was only casual, it didn’t feel casual. Not one bit.

  “Not really. Not anymore. There’s only my brother, and he’s in the Marines. Can’t make leave until Christmas.”

  She appeared to consider that, looked thoughtful. “You have so many people who care at The Arbors. Family-by-love.”

  A fanciful sentiment from a woman he hadn’t realized was so fanciful. She cared. Gerald had been dead right about that. Jay didn’t think too many people could find their way into her life and not be cared about. “Walter and I will see all of them on Thanksgiving, too. Liz throws her annual feast at the facility. She makes every one of her pies from scratch.”

  “Wow.” Drawing her legs up, she tucked them around her on the bench seat, for once not wearing her customary business suit, but a long skirt made of some filmy stuff that flowed around her legs when she walked. “Who’s the feast for? The residents and staff on duty?”

  “Everyone, and I mean everyone. She’s famous for her cooking, so residents’ families show up, and staff families show up whether they’re scheduled or not. Some of our local vendors show up, too.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “Nope. The place is like a revolving door buffet until she closes up shop at three. For the record, she has permission to use our facilities to cook her family Thanksgiving meal. Her kids pack up everything to take home. That going to be a problem? She supplies her own food.”

  Give or take some seasonings and little items that were kept in the facility kitchen. Jay wouldn’t muddy the waters with too much information.

  Susanna’s easy humor faded fast and she transformed into the practical administrator he knew so well. “She and her staff are doing all the cooking, right?”

  He nodded.

  “Then I don’t think there’ll be a problem.”

  “Good.” He’d be sure to document the procedure and permission in the management manual he’d been working on for Susanna’s reference in the event he actually got out of here as planned. He was glad he’d remembered to address the issue now. He’d been trying to cover every eventuality that might come up in his absence, but he hadn’t considered Thanksgiving until this very moment. How many others had he missed?

  “Sounds like I’ll be missing a great time,” Susanna said.

  “There’ll be photos up on the website. Tessa wanders around with that camera of hers then gets Amber to post everything on Facebook. You do know we have a Facebook page?”

  “I do.” She smiled again, and Jay decided he liked this chatty, easygoing woman. Off duty, Susanna was easy to be around. No wrestling back and forth about little things that made a world of difference at The Arbors. She could let all her caring come out without such black-and-white rules and regulations hemming her in on all sides.

  “I liked our page,” she admitted. “And I like the fact we’ll have Mrs. Harper back. I hated thinking of her in the hospital over the holiday.”

  Jay definitely liked this Susanna with all the soft edges showing. He liked her a lot. “We should have an idea of her arrangements as soon as the doctor writes the orders. I didn’t expect it to take so long. You’re losing a lot of your day off.”

  “No problem here. I was reading commentary on North Carolina ALF certifications, and this is more important. You don’t think the doctor will release Mrs. Harper to return to her apartment yet, do you?”

  Jay leaned forward and clasped his hands over his knees, the small of his back beginning to ache after sitting so long in the plastic chair. “I think we’re looking at a few weeks of physical and occupational therapy before she can pass the transfer tests to get back upstairs.”

  Unless Mrs. Harper was dramatically improved from his last visit, she was looking at a stint on the first floor until she could get in and out of the bathroom on her own, which was one of the criteria for assisted living.

  “She was getting around so well. That’s something that still surprises me about senior living, even after all these years.”

  “What?”

  “How quickly things can change.”

  There was such wistfulness on her pretty face that Jay wondered who she’d lost. He didn’t ask.

  Susanna exhaled softly. “One day a resident looks like she’s winding down then the next she’s up scavenging bread and feeding the ducks.”

  “Hope that’s the case with Mrs. Harper.” But Jay also knew what Susanna wasn’t saying—that those changes worked in reverse. One day a resident was feeding the ducks then the next she was gone. “Keep in mind that Mrs. Harper is ninety-three. She’s been getting around better and longer than most.”

  “True, true, but the ducks will miss her. Any chance of getting her a window bed that looks out on the lake?”

  “That’s a really good idea.”

  She smiled, clearly pleased she’d come up with an idea he approved. Hadn’t been happening all too much of late, if he was honest with himself. Why? Because he was afraid she’d sacrifice all the important things when he was no longer around, all the things that made The Arbors The Arbors. And in the wake of her bright smile, Jay had to ask himself why he cared so much. If he wanted out so badly, shouldn’t he be content to leave the future in the care of someone who obviously cared?

  * * *

  THANKSGIVING WAS A HEALING step for Susanna and the kids. A step that proved they were still a family no matter how much distance separated them. Being together was the best part of the holiday and where didn’t seem to make any difference.

  For Thanksgiving dinner they sat in a lovely restaurant next to Brandon’s school that was a renovated post-World War I officers’ club. An elegant place and a fine dining experience with a nineteenth-century bar and a
balcony. They’d decided to splurge on their first nontraditional Thanksgiving meal.

  Brandon barely glanced at the menu before setting it back on the table.

  “You’ve decided?” Susanna hadn’t yet selected a salad. A warm spinach salad or a house salad with cranberry merlot vinaigrette?

  “Shrimp and grits.”

  Brooke eyed him over the menu. “Grits?”

  “We live in the South.” He replied with such deadpan delivery that Susanna chuckled.

  Brandon had never been chatty like his sister. Reaching for his glass, he winked at Susanna, looking so much like his father in that moment she swallowed hard.

  He could have been Skip at a similar age with the glossy black hair and lanky grace of a young man who hadn’t yet grown into his body. The young man she’d fallen in love with. Oh, so charming with a sudden grin that reflected his love of mischief and making people laugh in as few words as possible.

  He hadn’t made a big deal of their surprise arrival last night, but he was thrilled with their visit. Susanna knew because she knew her son, understood that what he didn’t say was actually more important than what he did. He hadn’t waited for an invitation before packing a bag at his dorm and deciding to spend the nights in the hotel room Susanna had booked, a one-bedroom suite with plenty of room.

  He might not call her as often as Brooke, but these first two semesters away from home had lent him a new appreciation for the women in his life. This newfound maturity was evidenced by the way he’d opened doors and ordered meals. The way he’d insisted on driving them around because he knew Columbia.

  “Well, I’m looking into pasta of the day,” Brooke informed them. “Mom, you?”

  “Sweet tea pork just because it sounds so Southern.” She closed the menu and set it aside. “Definitely a departure from eating stuffing out of Nana’s turkey.”

  “Ugh, Mom! That’s so gross.” Brooke pulled a face.

  “It’s the highlight of my Thanksgiving, Ms. Vegetarian.”