Forever Young: Blessing or Curse (Always Young Trilogy) (2 page)

She’d
even resorted to leaving the lamps lit, so it would look like she was moving
around instead of tossing and turning in a bed made for two. Her precautions
wouldn’t fool a savvy criminal, but were the only way she could cope.

God,
she missed Larry. Not only because he’d kept her company, but for a myriad of
other reasons. He’d been her soul mate, and the man she’d expected to grow old
with. Tears welled at the thought of spending Thanksgiving on Thursday without
him, not to mention Christmas and her senior years.

Dorrie
bit her lip. She would not cry in front of Larry’s boss. She must stay focused,
and get him out the door so he wouldn’t witness a breakdown. “Except for the
books, you’re welcome to take whatever you wish. It’s yours, by rights,
anyway.”

To
keep out of his way, she crossed the room to lean on the oak doorframe. In a
haze, she watched him gather the papers and folders from Larry’s battered brown
desk and ill matched cabinets to deposit in the cardboard box. Though Larry had
had his hopes pinned on a new desk from an office shop in Phoenix, he’d been
practical enough to wait until he could afford to pay cash. Too bad he hadn’t
given in and enjoyed that small luxury. No wonder people say don’t deny
yourself because life is too short. She shivered, as the impact of the saying struck
her.

Before
long, the room took on a barren look, as if Larry had never inhabited it. It
didn’t seem right that inanimate objects should survive their owners. At
thought of the randomness of death, her breath caught and her skull pounded.
She crossed her arms to ward off a fresh case of shivers.

 Mr.
Remington looked at her, his blue eyes clouded with concern. “Are you sure
you’re all right?”

“I
think so,” she said, swallowing a lump in her throat. Maybe she’d been wrong in
her assessment of him. He did seem to care about her feelings. Unfortunately,
that made matters worse. She couldn’t handle sympathy, not with the pain so
fresh. If only she could sink onto the floor and bawl her eyes out, but sharing
her misery was not an option.

He
turned. “Anything else you can think of?”

Dorrie
straightened and gazed around the empty room. He seemed to have gathered
everything of concern, that is, except Larry’s iPhone which she would not give
up. She’d purposely left it upstairs so Mr. Remington wouldn’t claim it. When
Larry had bought the phone a few months ago, he’d mentioned something about
setting it to sync documents to  the work computer, with the exclusion of
private photos and songs.

The
phone did contain classified information which belonged to the Institute, but
that aspect didn’t concern her. She had no idea what the mumbo jumbo meant, and
had no inclination to decipher it. The phone had belonged to Larry, had been
bought with his hard-earned money, and he’d specified she keep it. Those were
good enough reasons not to hand it over to someone who’d not appreciate the
sentiments. She had, however, discontinued its service to save money.

Right
now she couldn’t face reminders of her life with Larry, but when she was strong
enough she’d like to access those photos and songs. It was her right as Larry’s
wife to do so.  

Her
mind skittered again to other matters. She must place an ad for Larry’s van as
soon as Mr. Remington left. Hopefully, she’d get a good price, enough to pay
for the remaining funeral expenses. She had so much to remember when it was so
hard to think.

Meanwhile,
Mr. Remington looked at her, expecting an answer. She avoided his eyes. “I
don’t recall anything else. You should have everything.”

He
secured the strings over the hooks on the box and picked it up. They walked
across the Travertine tile to the front door.  

Hand
on the wrought iron knob, he turned to her. “Thank you, Mrs. Donato. Sorry
again to disturb you.”

“I
understand, Mr. Remington. You have an important business to run. I can’t expect
it to shut down because of one person.” 

“Not
just any person. If it’s any consolation, I considered your husband extremely
gifted, hardworking and a valuable asset. I’ll have a hard time locating anyone
approaching his capabilities.”

Her
eyes welled again with tears. “Larry would have been pleased to hear that. He
so wanted to make good at the Institute, and very much admired you. He called
you a genius.”

“It’s
all in a day’s work.”

“Not
everyone’s. You should be very proud of yourself. You’ve invented such
wonderful products: weight loss pills without side effects, those age spot
removers—oh, and that Forever Young pill you’ll be introducing.”

He
blinked. “Larry told you about the young pill?”

“Nothing
specific, only that he’d been testing it for the Institute.”

Mr.
Remington’s mouth set in a grim line.

Dorrie
gave a short laugh. “Don’t worry, Mr. Remington. I know nothing about
biogenetics. If I did, I’d be applying for Larry’s job. Being a receptionist at
the local high school doesn’t bring in the big bucks, no matter how pleasant
the atmosphere.”

He
put the box down. “So, you’ll stay on here in Scottsdale?”

“I
can’t afford not to. With the real estate market so tight, I can’t move anytime
soon.”

He
flashed an assessing look. “Would you consider changing jobs?”

She
gave a short laugh. “That’s about as hard as selling a house. I haven’t noticed
any plum positions I’d qualify for.”

“I
may have an opening at the Institute. Send me your resume and I’ll review it.”

“Thank
you Mr. Remington. That’s very kind. After I get my head on straight, I’ll do
that. I must admit, though, my work history will show a gap. Before I was
fortunate enough to get hired by Foster High, I was out of the workplace for
five years caretaking my mother. She passed away shortly before Larry and I
moved to Scottsdale.”

“That’s
a shame about your mother. You’ve had double tragedies to deal with.”

She
nodded. “I appreciate your sympathy, Mr. Remington. It’s not been easy going,
that’s for sure. Life goes on, as they say. With the grace of God, somehow I’ll
survive.”

“I’d
like to help. Maybe you could tell me more about your qualifications.”

“Oh,
yes, sure. When Mom took ill, I’d been working as an administrative assistant
at an advertising firm for fifteen years. Before that, I held various clerical
positions. My typing speed’s at least seventy, maybe better. I know shorthand,
but that’s obsolete these days. I’m also familiar with Dictaphones, and have
learned various programs from working at the school.”

He
nodded thoughtfully. “Get me that resume when you can. I might be able to dig
something up.”

She
thanked him for his interest and ushered him out.

As
she closed the door, she thought about his possible job offer. If he found
something, she may need to leave the high school.

That
would be a shame. Everyone there was so friendly, even the principal, Candace
Saunders, who treated faculty and staff almost as equals, even going so far as
to encourage them to address her by her first name. In her forties, with bobbed
chestnut hair and kind hazel eyes, she didn’t look anything like a typical
principal, yet her classy mannerisms commanded respect. It would be almost
impossible to find another boss like her.

Squaring
her shoulders, she resigned herself to making the necessary sacrifices when the
time came. For now, she had other considerations, like making a call she’d
avoided.  

Dorrie
climbed back upstairs to the bedroom, where she found her purse sitting on the
nightstand. She rifled inside and dug out the smartphone. She should have done
this sooner, but hadn’t the heart to pour out her feelings again, even to her
best friend.

Jeanne
picked up on the fourth ring. Her cheerful voice turned to dismay when Dorrie
explained what had happened. “Shame on you. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?
We’re friends. That means sharing. You should not have gone through that ordeal
alone. Besides, Larry was like a brother to me. I would have dropped everything
to come to his funeral.”  

“Sure,
it would have been nice to have you here, but I knew you shouldn’t leave your
Dad. Don’t forget, I went through the same thing with my Mom. I know how it
is.”

“Sometimes
you are too considerate for your own good, Dorrie Donato.”

“No,
just practical. You’re where you should be.”

Jeanne
sighed. “It would be helpful if I could be in two places at once, but I haven’t
figured out how to do that yet. Listen, if you feel like crying on my shoulder,
call anytime, day or night. You’re my buddy, and I’ll always be here for you.”

“Thanks,
I needed that,” Dorrie said, voice thickening. She wished her friend didn’t
live so far away, but knew their bond couldn’t be broken by distance.

CHAPTER THREE

When
Dorrie arrived at work the next day, she found a beautiful floral arrangement
and a card on her desk signed by the staff members. Everyone, from Principal
Candace, to the cafeteria ladies, and even the fastidious sixth grade teacher,
Mr. Landscomb, stopped by to express condolences and offer encouragement.

Toward
the end of the day, Candace called Dorrie into her office. “How are you making
out?”

“I’m
coping. It helps that everyone’s being so nice.”

“You
deserve it, Dorrie. By the way, I was thinking, with Thanksgiving coming up on Thursday,
you’re more than welcome to spend the day with me and some of the other faculty
members at my place. I’ve been known to cook a mean turkey.”

“Thanks,
Candace, I really appreciate your offer, but I’ll have to decline. I don’t
think I could handle that yet.”

Candace
nodded. “I understand, but if you do change your mind, let me know. It’d be no
trouble to set an extra place for you.”

Thanksgiving
arrived all too soon. As Dorrie tried to eat an unpalatable frozen turkey
dinner, she almost wished she’d taken Candace up on her offer. Still, she knew
she’d not have made a pleasant dinner companion. How could she keep up a
pretense of thankfulness when inside she felt cheated?

The
day stretched long. Maybe if she concentrated on a project the time would pass.
She’d meant to finish the cross stitch pattern of a cardinal she’d brought with
when they’d moved from Wisconsin, and had since stored in the closet. Maybe
that would occupy her mind and time. Between her eyes smarting, small holes in
the pattern, and her mind straying to remembrances of Larry and Mom, the
distraction didn’t produce the desired effect.

Sighing,
she stored the paraphernalia back where she’d gotten it. Maybe someday she’d
try again.

Since
she was already depressed, Dorrie decided she may as well tackle her finances.
As she switched on the computer, she had a feeling she would not be happy with
what she saw.

Unfortunately,
her misgivings were well founded. The account register looked anything but
appealing. Selling Larry’s used van and cashing in on his life insurance policy
had barely covered his burial. Accumulated back bills from Mom’s medical
expenses, along with the additional expenses of mortgage, taxes, utilities,
insurance and food bills all needed resolving. At least her health insurance
payment didn’t amount to much, since she received her benefits through the high
school plan. By careful juggling, she could eke by a while, but not for long.

The
days passed in dreary succession. Before she knew it, Dorrie faced another
holiday. Again, for fear of being a wet blanket, she turned down an offer by a
staff member to celebrate the day with her and some of the others.

On
Christmas Eve, it didn’t feel right going to Midnight Mass without Larry, so
Dorrie went the next morning instead. Though someone sat next to her at the
service, the spot still seemed empty. Hearing the joyful choir voices hitting
such beautiful notes left her more depressed.

When
she got home, she didn’t bother fixing any special dishes. No sense in wasting
good food.

Watching
Christmas programs didn’t lift her mind from her loneliness either, so she gave
up and made an early night of it. She may as well have stayed up late, for all
the sleep she got.  

Though
dragging, Dorrie welcomed work the next day. While she sat in her cranberry
colored suit at the receptionist desk outside the principal’s office, trying to
keep her spirits up, and hoping she could afford to remain at such a nice
place, Candace’s voice came over the intercom.“Dorrie, can you please come in
here a moment.”

Something
in Candace’s tone didn’t sound right. Warmth spread to Dorrie’s face as dread
filled her
. Please don’t let me lose my job. That would be too much.

“Have
a seat and make yourself comfortable, Dorrie,” Candace said with a tight smile.

Dorrie
groped backwards for the edge of the vinyl chair, and gingerly sat down.

Candace
cleared her throat. “As principal, sometimes I have difficult decisions to
make. I’ve just received word our district is low on funds, and I’ve been
ordered to cut expenses. I value each and every member on staff here, but must
comply with the rules. I’ve taken a hard look at all the positions. One way to
cut back is to combine the receptionist and administrative assistant jobs.