by Jeff Shelby
Which led us to the Friday night two weeks ago. Our third attempt. This time, we’d actually gotten seated. Ordered food.
We’d gotten past the point of awkwardness, until a woman showed up at our table.
A drunk woman.
A woman Aidan had dated in the past.
A woman who was now engaged to the drunk man who slid into the booth next to me.
We’d spent the next two hours on the most awkward double date I’d ever experienced.
“Maybe we can plan something soon?” Aidan suggested. “And maybe we just pick one of our houses instead of trying to go out.”
“I don’t know,” I said, arching an eyebrow. “What if Zoe shows up there, too?”
His cheeks flushed. “I’m so sorry about that.”
I grinned. “It’s fine. I'm teasing you. Really. Those things happen.”
At least I assumed other dates had been interrupted by ex-girlfriends and the men they were going to marry. Somewhere. To people other than us.
“I don’t know about that,” he said. “But if we hang out at my house and she shows up at the door, I don’t have to answer it.”
“Does she have a key?”
His cheeks burned brighter. “No. It was never like that.” He paused, then raised an eyebrow. “At least I don’t think she does. I suppose she could've smuggled one to the hardware store...”
A new voice boomed from the doorway. “Do I smell pumpkin pie?”
Bryce strolled into the room, his eyes wide as they landed on what was left of the pies.
“You smell 'em but you might not get to eat any if you don’t grab a slice now,” Bille Applegate warned. She was parked at a table, sucking the last bit of apple pie off her fork. Her plate had already been scraped clean and I was thinking she might start licking it after she finished with her fork.
“What would you like?” June asked, batting her eyes at Bryce.
“Whatever you have the most of,” he said agreeably. He surveyed the room appreciatively before heading toward where I was standing. “What a great idea,” he said to me.
“What?”
He motioned to the pies. “Baking. Giving the residents a chance to do that. And other residents the chance to eat them.” He smiled. “And staff, of course.”
“They do love it,” I told him. “I think it makes living here feel a little more like home, having access to a kitchen like this and having the opportunity to bake with friends.”
“Was this your idea?” he asked after accepting the plate June offered him.
I nodded.
Aidan drifted toward Dexter, then began helping the elderly man cut his slice into bite-size pieces.
Bryce’s gaze was filled with frank admiration. “Good for you.” He forked off a piece of the pumpkin pie. “I saw the activity calendar for December.”
“You did? How?”
“You emailed it to Anne, right?”
I nodded again.
“She shared it with me. Via email,” Bryce said. “You know, as part of the training. I have to say, you have some fantastic activities planned for December.”
“Yeah?” I straightened a little. I wasn’t used to hearing praise for my proposals. If anything, I was usually berated for them. “Do you really think so?”
“Absolutely.” He’d eaten half of his slice of pie and was now looking around the room. “There wouldn’t happen to be any coffee, would there?”
June heard him. “Oh, absolutely,” she said. She hurried over to the pot and went about pouring him a cup. “Happy to get you more if you'd like some. Just holler at me.”
He smiled his thanks and then returned his attention to me. But not before he noticed Aidan standing nearby.
“You’re a health aide, right?” he asked. “Aidan?”
Aidan nodded.
“And who are you responsible for today?” Bryce asked.
“I’m responsible for a lot of residents,” Aidan told him. “But right now, I’m waiting on Dexter.” He glanced at Dexter, who was methodically working his way through his dessert. “He needed help getting here now that he's using a wheelchair for a few weeks.”
“I see,” Bryce said. “And you’re the one going to school, right? Something about plants?”
“Yep.”
Bryce frowned. “I didn’t think they offered those types of classes at the community college.”
“They don’t,” Aidan said. “I’m at Crestview College.”
Bryce looked suitably impressed. “Wow. So what are you doing working as a health aide here? Surely you could make more money somewhere else.”
Aidan’s eyes flitted to me. “I like the people.”
My cheeks flushed, but if Bryce noticed, he didn’t say anything.
“Well, it’s good to have such responsible people on board to help with the residents,” Bryce said. “I can only hope I’m as lucky finding help at the place I end up as what we have here.” He turned to me and smiled. “And that our activity director is as lovely and as talented as you are.”
Aidan accepted the compliment directed to him with a stiff nod. I, on the other hand, felt as though my entire face was now on fire.
Lovely? Talented?
No one ever used those words to describe me.
Especially not someone who was technically my superior.
I didn’t spend too much time thinking about it because Anne barged into the room. I braced myself for a barrage of complaints. She hated that we did baking with the residents; she was always concerned that someone would get hurt or that they would somehow manage to burn the building down.
But she wasn’t there to complain.
“I need help,” she announced.
She scanned the room, as if she was waiting for someone to raise their hand.
All conversation ceased but no one said anything.
I finally found my voice. “Help?” I repeated.
Her eyes zeroed in on me. “I have a flat tire.”
I made a sympathetic noise. “Oh. That’s too bad.” I wasn’t sure why she’d felt the need to announce this news to us.
Her gaze narrowed. “I need someone to fix it,” she said. She looked at Bryce. “You know anything about cars?”
He shrunk back. “Nope.”
She pointed at Aidan. “How about you?”
“Me?” he repeated, his eyes wide.
“Come with me,” she barked. “I need to leave on time tonight.”
“But—” Aidan began, but Anne had already grabbed his arm and was pulling him out the door.
Bryce chuckled. “I’m not sure he was a willing participant there.” He went to refill his coffee and appeared to be eyeing another piece of pie.
Billie approached, pushing her walker in front of her. Her red hair was almost the same color as my red dress. She smiled. “I like that dress you’re wearing.”
“Thank you.”
“What happened to the rest of your costume?” She motioned to my hair. “Saw you wearing it this morning when you came in.”
“Oh, I took it off. It was hot.”
Her brow furrowed, the wrinkles like crevasses in her skin. “It isn’t Halloween, is it?”
“Halloween?” I cocked my head. “It was wearing a Santa hat.”
“I know.”
“Santa is associated with the Christmas holiday,” I explained gently.
She glowered at me. “I might be old but I still have my wits about me! I know the difference between Halloween and Christmas.”
“But—”
“I thought you were wearing it as a Halloween costume.”
“Ohhhhh.” Her responses made more sense. “Well, yeah, it got hot so I took it off.”
She didn’t press for any more details. She changed the subject instead. “I think Bryce likes you,” she whispered.
“Bryce?”
She nodded.
I thought about the words he’d used to describe me. “Bryce is a very nice man who happens to like ev
eryone,” I said.
She made a tsking sound. “Oh, baloney. I see how he looks at you.” She leaned her head toward me, and I could smell the floral perfume she’d dabbed on the collar of her white blouse. “Sort of reminds me of how another certain someone looks at you.”
I just shook my head. “You’re imagining things.”
“Oh?” Billie’s blue eyes narrowed. “So I’m imagining how Aidan feels about you, too?”
The blush threatened to reappear in my cheeks.
She gave me a satisfied smile. “I may be old, but I still have my wits about me. I've watched enough terrible soap operas to know when a man is attracted to a pretty woman like yourself. And I’m telling you, there isn’t just one man here who fancies you. There are two.” She winked at me. “And you better start thinking about just how you’re going to handle that, my dear.”
THREE
I didn’t give Billie Applegate’s words much thought.
Because I thought she was a little off her rocker.
Aidan liked me; this I knew. But suggesting there was interest on Bryce’s part was about as far-fetched as an extra moon rotating the Earth. He was nice, he was flirtatious, but he definitely was not interested in me.
Was he??
Those thoughts flitted through my mind for the rest of the day, and were still with me as I popped into the dining room to top off my afternoon coffee. It was a half hour before dinner and I could smell the Salisbury steak and roasted potatoes cooking in the kitchen. Despite the enticing aroma, I knew better than to expect the taste would live up to my nose’s expectations. The meat would be bland, despite Lola’s best efforts to season it, and the potatoes would be better off mashed, they’d be so soft.
Denise was in the dining room, a cardboard box parked against her hip, and she was busy setting out cloth napkins at each place setting. Her back turned to me, she was carrying on a conversation with Lola, whose gray bun was just visible through the glass-less window separating the dining room from the kitchen.
There were fall and Halloween touches throughout the large space: mini pumpkins served as centerpieces on each table, and friendly looking ghost and witch cutouts were tacked to the walls. There was even a small jar of colorfully wrapped candies set out by the coffee machine. I didn’t take any.
“—worst idea ever,” Denise was saying to Lola, continuing her conversation and barely glancing in my direction as I headed toward the coffee machine.
I filled my coffee mug as she talked, being careful to leave enough room for cream. My consumption of the beverage had doubled since I started working at Oasis Ridge and I didn’t know if I was simply channeling the habits of the people surrounding me—the elderly drank an awful lot of coffee—or if securing my first full-time, salaried job after college had more to do with it. Maybe it just came with the territory of adulthood.
Or maybe I just needed caffeine on a regular basis to make it through my workday.
“What’s the worst idea ever?” I asked.
Denise glanced in my direction. She’d styled her hair differently today, with her tight curls a little more relaxed than normal, and her make-up looked softer, with more pink hues than red.
She glowered. “Anne’s hare-brained idea.”
That didn’t clarify things. Most of Anne’s ideas were awful. “Which one?”
Something metal crashed to the floor in the kitchen, followed by a bellow of an expletive from Lola’s mouth.
Denise didn’t even flinch. “The new buffet she wants to try.”
“Buffet?”
Denise’s entire face pinched up and she nodded.
“What kind of buffet?”
“Breakfast and lunch.” She was back to doling out napkins.
“Wait. A buffet here at Oasis Ridge?” I frowned. “How would that even work?”
Lola burst through the door, barely looking our way as she scanned the counter area for something. She finally found what she was looking for, a small dustpan and attached broom.
“Wanna tell her about the buffet?” Denise said to Lola.
The cook gave a little shrug. “What’s there to tell?”
Everything, I thought.
Denise sighed. “Anne wants to make the breakfast and lunch meals a buffet.”
I was thoroughly confused. “Why? Wouldn’t that mean an awful lot more cooking? A lot more food choices?”
I was already trying to think it through. Having buffet-style meals would mean a lot more than that. More food options would translate into more waste. And the last thing Anne ever wanted to do was spend unnecessary money. She was always looking for ways to cut corners. A buffet-style dining room seemed like the very last thing she would consider.
The tight bun sitting on top of Lola’s head barely moved as she shook her head. “Nope. We’d still serve the one meal option.”
“One choice? I’m not following…”
She sighed, a little impatiently. “The menu would stay the same. Residents would just be responsible for getting their own food.”
“But…what about our residents who struggle with mobility?”
“Aides would help,” Lola said brusquely.
I was still struggling with why Anne thought this would be a good move to make.
Lola must have realized this, because she chuckled and said, “Anne thinks residents will take less food if they’re the ones dishing up their plates. Less food waste means less money spent.”
Ah. So there it was. That explanation actually made some sense, despite how misguided it was.
Denise made a strangled sound. “It’s a horrible way to approach meals,” she said bitterly. “Especially with these residents.”
I didn’t disagree but I wanted to know why Denise was so vehemently opposed. “Why is that?”
Her dark eyes flashed with anger. “It would be like letting a toddler choose their food. Some of our residents would do just fine, obviously. But others? There are folks who need to be reminded to eat, even when I bring them their plates. Dexter wouldn’t touch a vegetable if I didn’t harp on him. You think he’s gonna put broccoli on his plate all on his own?” She planted a hand on the hip that was not supporting the cardboard box. “And Billie would live on starch if you let her. Potatoes, bread…that woman is a carb addict if I’ve ever met one. But she’s anemic. Connie is always telling me that her hemoglobin numbers are low; she needs her red meat. Who’s going to make sure she gets it and doesn’t fill up on a gazillion rolls and a plateful of mashed potatoes?”
Denise’s arguments made sense. It struck me then that, even though her primary job was supposed to be a server, she functioned an awful lot like a dietician, too.
“I’m the one who makes sure they have a nutritious meal put in front of them when they sit down in this room,” she continued. “I’m the one who reminds them to eat their veggies, to eat their prunes, to make sure they don’t use too much salt. I’m the one who tries to make sure they’re getting a well-rounded diet. How in the world am I going to do that when I’m not here?”
“Why wouldn’t you be here?” I asked.
She stared at me, as if the answer was obvious.
“Why would I be here?” she barked. “If the residents are getting their own food, they won’t need a server. And I’ll be out of a job.”
My mouth dropped open.
During the entire conversation, this thought hadn’t even occurred to me.
“Out of a job?” I repeated.
Denise nodded.
“You won’t be out of a job,” Lola reminded her. “Dinner isn’t changing.”
“Fine.” Denise rolled her eyes. “Not out of a job, but my hours will be shortened. By a lot.” She rubbed her temple. “I can’t lose a single hour. I need every single one I get now.”
Lola wasn’t feeling much sympathy. “So go get another job,” she told her. “Plenty of them out there.”
“For you, maybe,” Denise said bitterly. “But for me? No, ma’am. No degree, no educat
ion…who is going to hire me?”
“Oasis Ridge hired you, didn’t they?” Lola pointed out.
“Yeah, and I’ve worked here long enough that I’m finally making decent money,” Denise snapped. “I can’t start somewhere new, making minimum wage. I don’t need a job. I need this job. And with the hours I currently have.”
I felt a pang of sympathy. I didn’t know how much Denise was making, but I knew she struggled each month to keep her head above water. Starting over, at a place where she didn’t have seniority—and the accumulation of small raises that had added to her base pay over the years she’d been here—had the potential to be devastating.
“Have you talked to Anne?” I asked.
Denise huffed out a breath. “Of course I have. But she don’t listen. You should know that better than anyone.”
I did.
“She gets an idea in her head and she runs with it, no matter how bad it is. It's like talking to a statue.” She paused. “A very unfriendly statue.”
I knew this, too.
“So what are you going to do?” I asked.
She was quiet for a minute, her hardened gaze locked on the wall behind me.
Denise adjusted the box on her hip. “I don’t know.”
I tried to come up with some suggestions, but I had nothing.
Anne was going to do what she was going to do.
Just like she always did.
I was about to mumble out an apology when Denise’s expression morphed into a frown. But a determined one.
“Actually, I do know.”
I waited.
“I’m going to keep this job.” Her voice was filled with resolve. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
FOUR
I’d never picked up bingo cards as slowly as I was doing now.
An entire day had passed since I’d given Anne the calendar for approval, and I knew she would want to go over it sooner rather than later. In fact, I was surprised she hadn’t already summoned me to her office.
But she hadn’t.
I hadn’t actually seen her since yesterday, when she’d come in to the kitchen and ordered Aidan to help change her flat tire.
