Back in the lobby, Caroline looked toward what appeared to be another wing. “What’s over there?”
“Just more of the same,” Marybeth told her. “So, would you like to put your mother on our waiting list? It’s not as if you’re making a commitment to have her here, you merely increase your chance of getting a room should you eventually decide she needs some additional care and supervision.”
Caroline nodded. “Yes, I’m sure you’re right. I should put her on the list.”
Marybeth led Caroline back to an office and handed her a folder. “Just fill out this paperwork and we’ll put you down.” She stood. “Feel free to stay here to do it. I have to go see to something in the kitchen.”
And so Caroline sat there and filled out the preliminary information forms. Really, it was all fairly simple and straightforward, and like Marybeth had said, it wasn’t as if Caroline were making any legal commitment. She was simply securing a room … just in case. Feeling a bit less like a traitor, she left the folder on Marybeth’s desk, exited the building, and got into her car. Then she sat there looking at the long, low brick building.
Caroline tried to imagine she were in her mother’s shoes. Would she want to be placed here if the tables were turned? She thought of the smell, that unpleasant mix of overcooked food and, well, other things. She thought of the confinement, the lack of windows, and come to think of it, she hadn’t noticed any outdoor areas. Caroline wasn’t sure about her mother, but she herself would not want to be cut off from daylight and fresh air. Although, she hadn’t seen the whole building. Perhaps there was a courtyard somewhere in back.
As Caroline drove away, she knew the truth. She would rather be stuck in her mom’s old, decrepit, and overly crowded house with its small backyard than be locked up in Mulberry Manor.
But what if her mother became so out of touch with reality that she didn’t know where she was anyway? What if she couldn’t tell the difference between a room at Mulberry Manor and her own bedroom? Or what if her mother became seriously dangerous to herself or others? What if she started a fire? Or what if she ran out into traffic and some driver suffered a fatal accident to avoid hitting her?
Or what if, with the proper health care and nutrition that Marybeth described, her mother’s quality of life did improve? Perhaps even her memory would improve. What if Caroline, with her lack of caregiving skills, was keeping her mother from receiving what she really needed? Or what if Caroline reached her breaking point and could no longer provide care? Really, she decided, it was the right thing to put her mom on the list.
Feeling relieved, she decided to loop around the back of the facility in the hopes of spotting a cheerful courtyard with residents out enjoying the sunshine and flowers. But the only thing back there seemed to be an employee parking lot and trash bins. As she turned her car around, she noticed an open door, probably to the wing that she hadn’t toured. Out of curiosity, she took a long look down the corridor. Unlike the other side of the building, this hallway was completely empty. Was this half of the building vacant? And, if so, what was up with the waiting list?
She parked her car and walked to the open door to peek in, but the first thing that met her was the stench. She hadn’t cared for the odor on the other side of the nursing home, but this was far worse. With no one to stop her, she ventured in. Tiptoeing down the hallway, she glanced into the first room to see that it looked nothing like the rooms on the other side of the facility. This very clinical-looking room had three hospital beds, all occupied. Two of the residents were being held by restraints, and the other appeared to be comatose with IV bottles dangling above him. The two restrained people looked her way with glazed expressions that made Caroline suspect they were sedated as well.
“What are you doing in here?” someone from behind snapped.
Caroline turned around to see a woman in a nurse’s uniform. “I, uh, I was having a tour of Mulberry Manor,” she said.
“Not in this wing, you’re not,” the woman said.
“I must’ve gotten lost.”
The woman rolled her eyes as she took Caroline by the elbow. “More like spying if you ask me. I think I’ll call for the manager.”
“No need,” Caroline said crisply. “I’ll speak to Marybeth myself.”
The nurse released her arm. Perhaps the name of her boss carried some weight. “I assume you can find your way out?”
“No problem.” But instead of using the back door, Caroline headed the other direction, toward the lobby. She passed more rooms with more residents who looked frighteningly similar to what she’d just seen. Then she walked through the lobby and into Marybeth’s office, where she snatched up the folder with her mother’s information in it. As she was leaving she ran into Marybeth.
“Something wrong?”
Caroline nodded crisply. “Yes. I just saw the other side of the nursing home, where your so-called residents are shackled to their beds and look as if they’ve been drugged. This is not the kind of place I want my mother to—”
“You don’t understand. Those are patients who need to be restrained for their own safety and—”
“Or for the convenience of your staff.” Caroline glared at her.
“We have only the very extreme cases in that wing. I doubt that your mother would—”
“You don’t know my mother,” Caroline told her with tears in her eyes. “And you never will either. Thank you for your time.” Then she turned on her heel and left.
Caroline had only an hour of respite time left now, but she knew what she was going to do. She drove to Clifden’s biggest one-stop-shopping store and headed straight to the pharmacy, where she’d noticed a good selection of home-health products before.
With the help of a savvy pharmacist, Caroline selected a number of what she hoped would be helpful items, including a special massaging footbath, a wheelchair, a bedside toilet, and some other things that the pharmacist recommended.
“My aunt cares for my grandmother,” she told Caroline. “These are some of the things she finds useful.”
“I don’t think everything will fit in my car,” Caroline said as she waited at the cash register. “It’s just a small SUV.”
“We can deliver them if you like,” the pharmacist told her. “We’re just starting a special service for our shut-ins, and since you’re caring for one, I think we can apply it to you as well.”
“Thank you so much.” Caroline filled in the check and was thankful it wasn’t drawing from her own funds, which would remain limited until her condo in California sold. She’d set this account up when she got guardianship of her mom. Thanks to a reverse mortgage that Caroline had helped her mom secure a few years ago, her mother wasn’t dependent on Social Security to survive.
“I think our delivery guy will be going out later this afternoon. Will that work?” the pharmacist asked.
“Perfect.” Caroline thanked her again. Then, as she was about to leave the store, Caroline noticed a sign advertising a clearance on TVs. While Mom’s feet were recovering, a TV in her bedroom could be handy, and no way was Caroline going to move that hefty console from the living room. Maybe it was seeing that horrible wing of the nursing home, or maybe it was just plain guilt that she’d considered institutionalizing her mother, but before Caroline left the store, she also purchased a small flat screen, a DVD player, and fun selection of Disney flicks, including the Princess collection, which for some reason she thought her mother might enjoy.
“Looks like someone’s little princess is going to have fun,” the cashier said as Caroline handed him a check.
Caroline nodded. “Oh, yeah, the little princess is in for a real treat.”
It was just past noon when Caroline pulled into the driveway and hurried into the house. “Sorry I’m late,” she told Darlene breathlessly. “Is everything okay?”
She made a half
smile. “She’s a stubborn one.”
“I know. Did she give you any problems?”
“She wouldn’t let me touch her feet, but she did let me change her diaper. And she drank a juice box, but she refused to eat a bite of food.” Darlene shook her head as she picked up her purse. “I don’t know, Caroline. My mom wasn’t easy, but seems to me you’ve got your hands full with that one.”
She sighed. “Yes. But I’m not ready to give up yet. I really appreciate your help, Darlene. I hope she didn’t frighten you away.”
“Takes more than that to scare me off.” Darlene patted her on the back. “And I hope you enjoyed some nice respite time. I’m sure you needed it.”
Caroline forced a smile as she recalled her two-hour “break.”
“Yes, I think it was just what I needed. Thanks so much!”
Chapter 10
Janie
“Can I help you?” Janie turned to see a woman in her late thirties or thereabouts walking across the store toward her. The woman was dressed quite fashionably, especially for Clifden, and her brunette hair was long and wavy.
“I saw your ad in the Clifden Weekly,” Janie told her. “I’m renovating a house in town, and although I’ve found most of what I need online, I’m having a hard time deciding on tile without actually seeing it. And unfortunately, the plumber thinks it should’ve been installed yesterday, so I really need to resolve this quickly.”
The woman’s bright blue eyes sparkled. “I know just what you mean. I don’t know how anyone can shop for things like tile without actually seeing and touching the product first. Interior design elements are so tactile—I think we need to experience them. Don’t you? My tile section is back here.” She led Janie across the crowded interior-decor shop. “If you tell me what direction you’d like to go, I can probably help you find something.”
They looked for a while, considering the options, but Janie finally decided that she wanted to go with tinted glass tiles. “I know it’s probably not as interesting as some,” she said almost apologetically, “but I’m fairly traditional about style, and the floor tiles will be plain white marble.”
“Hey, I think glass tiles will look lovely with white marble. And those sea-glass green and blue shades are gorgeous. So spa-like in a bath. If you like I could come out to your house and measure for you before we order. There’s a no-return policy on this particular line, probably because they’re worried they’ll get broken ones back.” She smiled. “But don’t worry, they guarantee that yours will be delivered in one piece.”
“How long does it take?”
“That depends. You can put a rush on them if you want.”
“According to the plumber, we need them soon.”
“And you’ve picked out your fixtures already?”
Janie nodded.
“Well, you go ahead and take these samples home with you and make sure that you absolutely love them in your house, then let me know when you’d like me to come out and measure for you.”
“Today probably wouldn’t be too soon,” Janie admitted.
“Well, my sales associate will be here at noon. How about if I come by, say, around one?”
“Perfect.” Janie jotted down her address and phone number onto the notepad. “See you this afternoon.” Then she gathered up the sample boards and left.
Before she got into her car, she was approached by a short Latino man in blue jeans and a work shirt.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” he said politely. “Do you need someone to work?”
She bit her lip and studied him. “What kind of work?”
“I do all kind of work.” He looked at the sample boards. “You need tile work?”
“Are you a tile layer?”
He nodded eagerly. “Yes.”
Janie thought about the boxes of white marble floor tile stacked in her garage. They were for the bathroom floors, and the plumber wanted them installed ASAP. All the tile layers she’d called were busy until next month, and although Marley had offered to help, Janie knew that Marley needed to finish her painting.
“You no trust me?” the man asked with a sad frown.
“No, no. That’s not it.” Okay, this wasn’t exactly true. “I was just thinking. I have a friend who might lay the tile for me.”
He just nodded. “Yes. I understand.” Then he started to walk away.
“No, wait,” she called. “Come back.”
His smile reappeared as he returned. “My name ees Mario. I have wife, Elena, she does housework,” he said hopefully. “I do yard work, paint work or—”
“And you are experienced at tile work?”
He nodded. “Oh yes. I am very good.”
“And you have tools?”
“Oh yes. I have tools.” Now he frowned. “But no electric tile saw.”
“And you need an electric tile saw?” She realized how much she didn’t know.
“You can rent tile saw.” Mario pointed to a light blue Chevy truck parked across the street. It was old but clean and neat. “I can pick up the saw.”
Now Janie felt worried. What was she getting into?
“What kind of tile you want? I do it all. Slate, marble, granite, ceramic, terra-cotta.”
“Marble.”
He nodded and smiled. “Ah, marble is good. Easy to lay.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Easy to cut. But you must seal it when it’s done.”
Okay, she was feeling more convinced, and the plumber was at her house. She could get his opinion. “Why don’t you follow me home, and I can show you what needs to be done,” she told him. “Maybe you can give me an estimate.”
Mario shook his head.
“You don’t want to work for me.”
“No. I mean no estimate. I work by the hour.”
She considered this. If she paid him by the hour she wouldn’t risk giving him a check up front and never seeing him again. “That sounds perfect.”
“I follow you.” Mario nodded.
As she drove home, she hoped she wasn’t making a big mistake. This was all still so new to her. Although Abby had been helping her initially, it seemed that she’d gotten distracted, or perhaps like Marley suggested, she was actually a little depressed. Whatever the case, Abby’s suggestions for tile layers had not panned out. And now Janie was feeling a little desperate. When Mario pulled up she asked him to wait outside for her. Fortunately Ed, the plumber, was still there. She went directly to him and quickly explained about finding a “tile guy” at the home-decor shop.
“Great,” Ed told her. “You get that floor and shower tile done, and we can set these things up permanently.”
Janie sighed to imagine actually showering in her own house. Joining the athletic club in town had seemed like a good idea—she could work out and enjoy a real shower—but it had gotten old quickly.
“I thought maybe you could talk to the tile guy for me,” she said tentatively. “Just to make sure he really knows what he’s doing. I don’t want to sound judgmental, but he’s a Latino, and I don’t know if he’s—”
“Well, if he’s Mexican and he knows tile, you should thank your lucky stars.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “Oh yeah, they’re the best.”
“He’s outside. Do you have time to talk to him?”
“Sure, send him in, and I’ll check him out for you.”
As it turned out, Ed gave Mario his stamp of approval and even offered to handle the renting of the tile saw through a construction friend. “Rod will drop the saw by this afternoon,” Ed told Janie. “Mario can go to work as soon as he gets his materials.”
“Materials?”
“Adhesive, mortar, grout, sealer …” Ed chuckled. “The little things that get the tiles o
ut of the boxes and adhered to your floors.”
“Oh, right.”
“Just call up the hardware store and set up an account, and let Mario pick up the materials as he needs them.”
“Right.” She nodded. “Sounds simple enough.”
It was simple. Before long, all was set, and Mario headed off to pick up some supplies while she attempted to do some rearranging in the garage. Her plan was to free up some space for Mario to use as his workshop. But then she unearthed a box she had filled with her parents’ mementos—things she didn’t exactly want to toss, and yet she didn’t want to keep them either. What did one do with stuff like this anyway?
A good daughter would probably take it back into the house and thoughtfully go through it. But Janie had spent her entire childhood trying to be a good daughter. Not that it had gained her much favor in her father’s eyes. And her mother rarely affirmed her about anything. The truth was, Janie just didn’t have the energy to play that role anymore. Mostly she wanted to forget about her parents and her childhood, the pathetic little life that she’d lived within these very walls. In fact, wasn’t it ironic, if not downright Freudian, that she was investing so much of herself in renovating this house? Did she think that removing ugly carpets and drapes might erase the ugly past?
“I am back,” Mario hailed from the driveway. Then he rushed toward her. “No,” he said as he removed the box from her arms. “I will carry for you. You show me where.”
That’s when she noticed the pull-down ladder that led to the attic. She remembered her dad setting mousetraps there when she was a child, and after that she’d never wanted to venture up. She reached for the cord and pulled it down. “Up there is fine,” she told Mario. “Wherever you can find room. Thanks!”
Then, with that problem solved and nothing much to do until the woman from the interior shop came, Janie decided to call Marley. It should be Marley’s break time now anyway.
“What’s up?” Marley asked pleasantly.
So Janie explained about finding Mario the tile man. “I know I talked to you about doing tile,” she said quickly, “but there’s so much to do, and I know you’re busy with your painting.”
Hometown Ties Page 10