The Time of Her Life (15 page)

For the lucky people who had loved ones, anyway.

She could barely remember. So much time had passed since she’d
curled up with Skip, his arms her safe place in the world.

Taking a deep breath, she looked beyond Jay—a useful trick
she’d been cultivating since that dream. If she looked hard into the spill of
light from the floodlights, she could make out the vines reaching for the walls
of the building in unexpected places, nature trying to take over.

Is that how Jay felt about her? That she was changing things
that had worked before she’d gotten here, encroaching?

“A chair parked in the middle of a resident room doesn’t make
sense,” she pointed out. “It’s a bulky, solid piece of furniture that blocks the
walkway between the beds even when it’s not in a reclining position. It’s not
going to move out of anyone’s way if someone accidentally bumps into it.”

“No one could miss that chair. They walk around it.”

“Even Mr. Shepherd with his macular problem?”

Jay narrowed his gaze.

Susanna went in for the kill. “Mr. Llewellyn has to circle the
bed to get in the chair, and as you well know, he doesn’t use his walker like he
should. But if the recliner is back a few feet, he can slip right out of bed and
into the seat. Chester left enough clearance with the wall, so the chair will
still recline. A simple adjustment solves the problem.”

“Except Mr. Llewellyn can’t see the television from that
distance.”

“Then we’ll need to move the television,” she said simply, done
with this conversation. “If Mr. Shepherd can’t see it, anyway, then maybe we can
rearrange things to accommodate Mr. Llewellyn and not create a potential
hazard.”

She wasn’t backing down on this. Not with patient safety at
risk. Not with liability what it was. A chair in the middle of the room was
begging for trouble and the first question Northstar legal would ask was:

“Were there any obstructions in Mr.
Llewellyn’s room before he had the fall?”

Susanna might not have decades of memory-care experience, but
she knew corporate liability like the back of her hand. Bracing herself, she
lifted her face to meet his gaze.

Jay stared down at her, stubbornness all over him from the way
he braced his legs solidly apart to the way he leaned back on his heels, as if
getting comfortable to wait her out.

Susanna wasn’t sure what fired up inside her, but somewhere
along the way this had turned into a gunfight between her and Jay. Mr.
Llewellyn’s chair was the weapon Jay used to take aim.

So much more was going on with this man than she understood.
And she wanted to understand. So she wasn’t dodging this bullet tonight. She was
strapping on Kevlar.

He glared at her.

She folded her arms over her chest and glared right back.

The silence between them grew deafening.

His expression melted into exasperation a split second before
he said, “We’ll see if Chester can rig the television differently in the
morning.”

Not a concession but a compromise.

“Thank you.” Her neatly professional tone came with effort
because in her mind she said,
I was going to move it,
anyway.

This man was giving her whiplash with his mood swings.

“I was surprised all Mr. Olivanti’s children came,” she said
genially to get them back on solid footing. “Six adults and two spouses. Quite
an entourage for a two-in-the-morning visit.”

Jay inputted his passcode with a nod. “I’m surprised we didn’t
wake up everyone in the place. They were actually quiet.”

“Very respectful that everyone was asleep,” Susanna agreed. A
truce.

This had been her first impromptu facility tour, and Mr.
Olivanti’s family had witnessed firsthand that unlike many ALFs running a
skeletal staff on third shift—sometimes even leaving 100 residents under the
frightening care of one LPN and one PCT—The Arbors staffed adequately at all
hours.

One only had to walk those quiet halls as they had tonight to
see several shift PCTs strolling in and out of resident rooms, a floor LPN
making rounds, an R.N. overseeing the care staff as well as any unexpected med
dispensing, the duty manager in the offices, the security personnel—one in the
facility and another in the gatehouse—monitoring live video feed from all three
floors and the immediate grounds.

Even the facility co-administrators had appeared on site within
ten minutes of receiving the call that the Olivanti family had arrived for an
unexpected visit. The Full Disclosure policy had a literal definition at The
Arbors.

Susanna couldn’t imagine what more a family could ask for from
potential caregivers. But as she followed Jay into the front lobby, she realized
this dedication to superb care came at a high personal cost for the man who held
the yardstick.

CHAPTER TEN

J
AY
HADN
’
T
BEEN
HOME
for ten minutes when his phone
rang. No one called at 4:00 a.m. unless they needed something, but when he
glanced at the display, Jay found the name of the one person in the world who
might not need anything from him, after all.

“Drew. Hey, man, what’s up?” Not even at this hour because for
all Jay knew it was morning wherever in the world his brother was. Major Drew
Canady, USMC, called when he got a chance. Period.

“Change of plans, little brother. Can’t make leave on
Thanksgiving.”

Drew had never been big on small talk. Jay wasn’t sure if the
ability to zero straight in on the point was inherent in Drew’s personality—it
wasn’t genetic—or a result of a dozen years in Special Forces.

“Sorry to hear that.” He reached down and scrubbed Butters’s
head. It was the least he could do since the dog had made the effort to scramble
off the couch where he’d been sleeping to greet Jay.

Gatsby only lifted his head, eyed Jay as if he’d been rude to
make noise at this ungodly hour then promptly shut his eyes again. “Think you’ll
be able to make it back to the States before I sign the papers? Would hate to
turn over your key without giving you a chance to say your goodbyes.”

Not that his brother cared. Jay imposed his own sense of
nostalgia on a sibling who’d long ago proved he was all about looking ahead to
the next challenge rather than behind him.

A trait that Jay admired—mostly. All that running had some
downsides, too.

“You want me home to clean out my old room so you don’t have
to.”

“You remembered. I’m shocked.”

“You threatened to call Goodwill and have them pick up all my
past history. Come on, Jay. Like I want my high school football and track
trophies to wind up in someone else’s trophy case.” There was a laugh in there.
The trophies in question were in a milk crate in the attic. No one but their
mother had been interested in saving them, and she wasn’t around anymore.

“You never took me seriously before,” Jay said. “Didn’t occur
to me you’d start now.”

The sharp silence on the line came as a surprise. Then Drew
said, “Never thought I had to, but that was before Mom died and you started
getting real about unloading our legacy.”

Our
legacy.

As Drew barely managed to make it home a few times a year. And
then only if he wasn’t currently involved with a woman in his various ports of
call. Involved, he didn’t come home. Single, he made an appearance.

Jay was glad someone was enjoying life.

But Drew never stayed for more than a week at a time. He seemed
hardwired to spontaneously combust when he got too close to day seven of a
visit.

No, the legacy was all Jay’s. Drew’s name just happened to be
on the deed. A formality.

“Yeah, well. It’s time. I offered you the once-in-a-lifetime
chance to take my place. You weren’t interested.”

“No way, man. Not when you’ve been doing such a bang-up job
around there.”

A snort was the best Jay could come up with. Talking with Drew
always brought mixed emotions. Appreciation for a living family member, which
was a novelty in the Canady family. There was accompanying resentment because
Drew never acted like more than a distant relation. He’d disconnected long ago,
leaving Jay to deal with the family business as if he were an only child.

Why would Drew be interested in around-the-clock obligation
when he was always knee-deep in some foreign conflict, his high-level security
clearance making it impossible to discuss his work protecting the good old U.S.
of A. from the bad guys?

Jay didn’t think he’d be so eager to give up the challenges of
a cloak-and-dagger life. Challenges. Travel. Noble causes. Sounded pretty good
from where Jay stood. Of course, Jay’s idea of excitement was sex on the beach,
marriage and kids. All brothers weren’t cut from the same cloth.

Climbing the stairs, Jay wondered if he’d be able to sleep, or
if he should chalk up the night and get started on tomorrow. “If you’ve got
something to say, Drew, now’s the time. This place is half yours even though
you’re never here.”

More silence, which was telling, but Drew finally said, “No,
man. This is your call. You’ve done your time, and I haven’t been a damn bit of
help. Not with Mom, not with Gran, not with any of it. You’ve been holding down
the fort, so I didn’t have to feel guilty about not being around to deal with
our legacy.
If you want to move on, you go for
it. I’d be the last person to hold you back.”

Jay pulled the phone from his ear and stared down at the
display, so surprised that he missed Butters make a play for the bed, nearly
knocking Jay over in the process of scrambling up.

Jay frowned at the dog and motioned to the other side.

Sinking onto the edge of the bed, he said, “Where are you? It’s
got to be late at night because you’re awfully self-reflective. That almost
sounded like a thank-you.”

“Not as late as where you are.” He laughed. “Doesn’t sound like
I woke you up from your beauty sleep.”

“Someone beat you to the punch.”

“Not a woman. That much I know.”

Toeing off his shoes, Jay sank back into the pillows and
stretched out after a very long day. “You don’t think?”

“Um...I suppose you could surprise me.”

“Just goes to show you that you probably shouldn’t think. It
was five women, actually.”

“Sheeeeeet.”
A snort of laughter.
“Any of them
not
seniors? Or forgetting they have
AARP cards.”

“Yes. Two definitely. Maybe three.” He couldn’t be entirely
sure about one of Mr. Olivanti’s daughters. Maybe she’d been a few years behind
her siblings or maybe she’d had good genes.

“Okay, so somebody either died tonight or you were giving the
owl tour. Which was it?”

The fundamental truth of Jay’s sorry existence. “Owl tour. With
the new director.”

“Like him?”

“Her.”

“Her, hmm. Another senior?”

An image of Susanna popped into Jay’s brain in all her feminine
glory. Big blue eyes. Soft smile. Kissing lips. Unless that kissing mouth was
pursed tight with a rebellious streak that was at odds with her feminine
appearance.

Almost as if on cue, a light twinkled in his periphery. Jay
glanced out his window to see another light blink out.

Susanna heading into the
bedroom.

No, the new director definitely wasn’t another senior. He
turned his back, determined not to be distracted. “Your age. Little older,
maybe.”

By four years exactly. But Jay wasn’t going to admit he was
paying such close attention.

Not even to himself.

“She any good? Wait—” Drew chuckled. “Let me rephrase that. Is
she good enough that you’ll be able to leave the place without kicking yourself
in the ass for the rest of your life?”

For a brother who hadn’t been around much since Jay had been
fourteen years old, Drew could read Jay better than anyone, which made no sense
whatsoever.

“I think so. Yes,” he said decidedly. “She’ll be ready by the
time I have to sign the final papers.”

If he had to beat her into submission.

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed. For your sake.”

That’s when it hit Jay—the uncustomary chattiness of a brother
whose conversations always ran along the lines of mission briefings. Drew called
often, but they were always touching-base kinds of calls.

Letting everyone know he was still alive. Checking up on what
was happening on the homestead. Getting updates on who was currently losing
their mind or in imminent danger of dying. Of course, now that everyone had lost
their minds
and
died, there wasn’t much to catch up
on but the sale.

Drew had a life. Jay...not so much.

Of course, none of this explained why Drew was suddenly all
sorts of chatty. So, one of two things was going on: either something was up
with him or he had concerns about Jay.

“You good, Drew?” he asked.

“Never better, bro, and you can thank Northern Ireland for
that. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been anywhere but the Middle
East?”

Jay supposed the cold north might be a refreshing change after
a long stretch of desert sand and broiling sun. Of course, someone who’d never
lived off the sixty acres where he’d been born wouldn’t actually
know...

“Bully for you. I was invited to Ireland to visit the cousins.
Might actually make it when I get out of here. You need their addresses?”

“Working.”

“Well, have fun with all that cold rain and ocean wind. So
what’s on your mind? You broke your record for phone conversations about ten
minutes ago.”

More laughter. “Can’t call and shoot the breeze?”

“No.”

“Just wanted to make sure you were good. That’s all. Things
have been changing since Mom.”

Since Mom. Funny how a man in Special Forces, a First-to-Fight
Marine, would deal in euphemism.

Since Mom
died.

Guess in some ways he and Drew were more alike than he’d
thought. They both dealt closely with death. Drew with war and terror and
disaster. Jay with the inevitable slow grind of age and infirmity.

“Never better,” Jay said. “Don’t worry about me. I’m looking
forward to getting the hell out of here.”
Finally.

“Got a plan for after you sign the papers?”

“Can you say Tahiti, no phones and beautiful women?”

“The beautiful women part sounds good. You have fun with the
sand.”

“I will, thank you.”

“Guess Tahiti would sound good to someone who prunes arbors for
fun.”

“Do not start pissing in my cereal.”

“Don’t know how you’ve done it for all these years.”

Jay had never figured out if Drew was squeezing in as much of
life as possible before Alzheimer’s robbed him of his faculties. Or was
dangerous work his way of controlling fate? Going out with a bang was better
than dying a slow death in a place like The Arbors with a healthy body and a
rotting brain.

The one thing Jay did know was that Drew hadn’t lost his mind
yet. Or shared what was on it.

Drew himself confirmed that observation when he said, “I can
make it for Christmas. That work for you?”

“As long as you clean out your room while you’re here, so I
don’t have to.”

Drew laughed. “You got it. I’ll let you know my arrangements
when I make them. We’ll talk before then. Can’t make leave for Thanksgiving, but
I’ll call.”

“Stay safe.”

“Will do. And, Jay.”

“Yeah?”

“It was a thank-you.”