by Debra Kayn
“Sit down, Gram.” Ava locked the door from the inside to be safe, and moved over to flip on the light. “I need to use the bathroom, and make a phone call. Stay here, ‘kay?”
Her knees stung, and her hands burned. She turned on the water in the bathroom and held her hands under the stream. Tears came, but not from the pain. Gram was safe, this time, but what about next time?
She’d thought signing Gram into Sunny Oak that she would have the care and attention required to keep her from harming herself. Ava used her wrist to turn off the water, grabbed a towel, and sat down on the edge of the tub. She winced. Her jeans stuck to her knees, but she didn’t have time to take care of all her injuries now. Once she had Gram back at the nursing home, she’d take care of herself.
After a quick call to Sunny Oak, letting everyone know Gram was with her and okay, Ava went out in the living room. She stopped and studied Gram.
Settled in the rocking chair, Gram sat with her eyes closed and an old afghan covering her legs. Ava sat down on the couch, content to leave Gram undisturbed to enjoy her nap. For a few minutes, she indulged in the fantasy that everything was fine in her life, Gram once again in the position of being Ava’s caregiver, not having to live somewhere else. In return, Ava could seek a relationship with Hank, because her livelihood didn’t balance on Mr. Holland’s decision.
She could pretend dementia never knocked on their cottage door and let itself in. She could work, come home, go on dates, and reconnect with her girlfriends, who she’d pushed to the wayside when Gram took all of her time. She could focus on living life, instead of trying to stop time.
But, life wasn’t always perfect. She had to make her own happiness with what she’d been handed. Two more days, and she’d have a better understanding of the path her life would take. Then she’d try to contact Hank, and tell him how she felt. If a relationship with him was meant to be, things would work out somehow.
She leaned her head back on the couch cushion. This week he'd made her remember how it felt to be twenty-two years old again. Normally, she felt as if she’d passed her twenties and settled right into middle age without experiencing the fun parts.
A soft knock jolted her out of her personal pity party. She stood, glanced back at Gram to see if she was still sleeping, and then answered the door.
A police officer stood on the porch. She stepped out and closed the door.
The officer took off his hat. “Ms. Walsh?”
“Yes?”
“I’m Officer Dorgan. I’m verifying you’ve found your grandmother, Mrs. Amelia Walsh?” He widened his stance.
“I did. She’s inside. I called Sunny Oak, but forgot to ask if they’d contact you.” She held up her hands. “I’m sorry. I’m frazzled and wasn't thinking.”
“That’s all right, ma’am. I’m glad you found her and everything is fine.” He smiled, slipping his hat back on. “Do you need any help taking her back to Sunny Oak?”
“Oh, thank you. Yes, we'd love a ride.” She pushed her wet hair off her face. “I didn't even think of how I'd take her back.”
"No problem." Officer Dorgan smiled understanding. "Take your time, and I'll be out here when you need me.
Unable to stall any longer, she’d take Gram back to the nursing home and go back to work. With any luck, she’d make it in time to catch Mr. Holland’s nightly phone call, and find guests who were content in the hotel after wearing themselves out at the beach party.
It took longer than she hoped to convince Gram to get into the patrol car, and by the time they'd arrived at Sunny Oaks, Gram worked herself into a snit. She’d marched ahead of Ava through the doors, refusing to talk. Ava trailed after her, and accepted the consoling hug from Judy. The nurses took Amelia to her room, while Ava discussed what happened with the managerial team.
“This can’t happen again,” Ava sat down in the office. “I understand how difficult it is to keep an eye on her twenty-four/seven, but that’s what I pay you to do.”
“I understand.” Barbara handed her a pamphlet. “I believe it would be in your best interest to use a GPS ankle bracelet on Mrs. Walsh. The rate of success when used on patients suffering from dementia or Alzheimer’s is amazing. That way, if she ever discovers a way outside and wanders away again, we can track her down before anything happens.”
“Like a criminal?” Ava slouched. “I don’t know. That seems so…degrading.”
“I know.” Barbara nodded. “But what you have to remember is that your grandmother is unable to take care of herself. This will allow you, and us, peace of mind. It will keep her safe. There’s a GPS device built inside, and we can pinpoint exactly where she is at all times.”
“How do I get one of these…things?”
“We can order one for you, but I want you to take this home and think about it. Do some research first. It is rather expensive and unfortunately, Medicare doesn’t cover the expense.” Barbara reached across the desk and squeezed Ava’s hand. “I know you’re working and supplementing Amelia’s monthly payments. This device will set your mind at ease, so think of the benefits before making any decision. There’s a number on the brochure and if you qualify, they do rent to patients on a month to month basis.”
“Okay.” She stood. “Thank you.”
Outside, she opened the brochure. Using the light from the street lamp, she scanned the information. Dammit.
How was she going to save almost six hundred dollars? She’d have to call tomorrow and find out how much it would cost her to rent. She tossed the paper inside the car. Then, she’d have to wait until Monday to find out if Mr. Holland had decided to hire her full time or not. She could be back to pounding the pavement looking for another job, and she couldn’t blame Mr. Holland at all. This week has been one mishap after another.
Chapter Fifteen
“Are you kidding me?” Ava stood outside her suite, wet, sore, and broken after dealing with her gram.
“Sorry.” George pointed at the two suitcases out in the hallway. “I knew you were busy with a family emergency, so I tried to find somewhere else for Mr. Johnson to sleep tonight…but I don't know where to put him. We only kept one room vacant for emergencies and he had the room.”
“A bird? Seriously?”
He nodded, sighing. “Poor thing. We found the seagull amongst all the glass on the floor. It’s a mess in there, but the crew will have it all picked up and a new sliding door installed first thing in the morning. Mr. Johnson only needs a place to sleep for tonight.”
“But, I thought all the windows and doors were earthquake resistant.” She rubbed her forehead. “Even protected against Tsunamis…”
“Yes, I did too. I will make sure Mr. Holland knows what happened and contacts the glass company. It’s unacceptable. We can’t have this happening while we have guests staying at the hotel.”
“What am I going to do?” She pursed her lips. “The hotel is full. We can't ask Mr. Johnson to stay somewhere else when he's part of the convention. The closest hotel is over five miles away.."
A door shut at the end of the hall. Hank walked out of his room with a duffle bag. She straightened and bit her lip. He'd already been inconvenienced once, this was unacceptable.
“Evenin’,” He tipped his hat.
Good evening,” she muttered. "I'm so sorry. I still can't believe a seagull can break a glass door."
"I don't think anyone knew. I'm glad I wasn't in the room when it happened. There's glass all over in there." His brows came down. “Is everything okay?”
She nodded. “Of course, I was just—“
“Ava just arrived back from a family emergency, and I was filling her in on the accident. I think she's in shock." George rocked back on the heels of his black shoes.
Hank glanced between them. “Anything I can do?”
Ava shook her head. “No. It’ll be all right. Thank you.”
“But Ava, we need to come up with somewhere for Mr. Johnson to stay." George leaned in closer. “Mr. Holland would n
ot like one of his guests put out of his hotel."
“I’m sure Mr. Holland had no idea a seagull would kick him out of his room either. We’ll talk about this later.” She stared at George. He really needed to stop talking in front of the guests. With all the problems Hank had witnessed on top of having him change rooms, she couldn't stand to have him see one more mishap that involved her.
There was only one thing she could do. It went against everything in the employee handbook, but she'd become friends with Hank and wanted to fix the problem. She'd deal with the ramifications from Mr. Holland later.
“You can stay with me.” Ava sucked in her breath and continued before she lost the nerve. “There are two rooms in my suite, which seems a little odd when you think about it since it's the honeymoon suite. I work long hours and with your schedule, we'll hardly see each other. I have plenty of room."
"Are you sure?" Hank said.
"Yeah." Ava's stomach flipped. "No big deal. If you're okay with staying in my suite, I'd love to have you as a roomie."
"What about your job?," Hank said.
She’d gone over the line with Hank already. Sharing a room with him would seal her fate. She’d be jobless starting Monday. She could barely control her attraction to him now. How was she supposed to handle him behind closed doors?
"I'll worry about that later." She shrugged, trying to smile.
“Then it’s settled.” Hank clapped George on the shoulder. “Go ahead and bring my bags into the extra room in Ava's suite. I need to speak with someone downstairs for a few moments, and then I’ll be up.”
“Very good, sir.” George picked up Hank's suitcases.
“Wait…” Ava stepped forward, but Hank blocked her way.
“Don’t fret, darlin’. I don’t snore," he whispered, before walking away.
She stood in the middle of the hallway. Why did it feel like they’d railroaded her into sleeping with Hank? She groaned. Not sleeping, but staying.
All her wishes were either coming true, or her worst nightmare was happening. She rubbed her arm, flinching as her abused hand protested the movement. What was she going to do?
“I’ll put his things in Mr. Johnson’s new room.” George walked around her and entered her suite before she could argue.
I guess Hank is staying with me. She sighed, yet her pulsed increased.
Maybe if she hurried, she could shut herself in the bedroom and go to sleep before Hank returned. That way she wouldn’t have to see him again tonight, tomorrow she’d start work early, and Mr. Holland would have no complaints. A bird? Of all the dumb things to happen.
Not wanting to waste any time, she hurried into the suite, thanked George, and shut the door. She studied the room. The hint of romance lay heavily in the room. From the sheer eggshell curtains, the cream-colored carpet, to the pastel candles dotting the sitting area. She walked back to her bedroom, swearing to herself she wouldn’t be influenced by her surroundings. It made no sense that a honeymoon suite had two bedrooms, but she was too tired to think up any plausible reasons for it now. She wanted a shower, and then to escape into bed and forget about the day.
Exhausted, she kicked off her shoes and headed to the bathroom. One more day. Tomorrow morning, the guests would leave, Mr. Holland would come back, and depending on her evaluation report, she would or would not have a job. From this point on, the decision was out of her hands. She did the best she could under the circumstances.
The staff would also give their opinion on how well she performed. She turned on the water. Besides the oven breaking down, the elevator malfunctioning, and several employees not showing up, she’d solved all the problems that cropped up. The guests seemed happy, despite being slightly inconvenienced at times.
Thank goodness, Hank had saved the day more than once, and Mr. Holland wouldn’t find out about her hysteria over the rat in the pool, almost destroying the social event of the week, or accidently drinking alcohol while on bouncer duty. She stepped into the shower and clamped her teeth together as the hot water hit the broken skin on her hands and knees.
Without Hank, she wasn’t sure she would’ve done so well. The stress and worry about Gram wasn’t going to go away, but she could do better on the job. She would do better if Mr. Holland gave her a second chance—she knew she would.
To keep her mind off Hank, she went back through the conversations with Mr. Holland. What made him decide to give her the other night off? The last time she’d talked with him, he’d drilled in the importance of rising above her job description to make sure the hotel ran without any problems. Had George told him how she’d covered the unfortunate accident with the broken heating element? Maybe not all the problems she’d fixed were up to Mr. Holland’s standards for Holland Hotel.
She shut off the water and wrapped her hair in a towel. Actually, Mr. Holland wasn’t any different from her. He worried about his hotel, and she worried about Gram. She depended on a staff to keep Gram safe and Mr. Holland depended on her to keep the guests happy. Did she give the guests a stress free stay?
She glanced around, looking for her clothes. Dammit.
In her hurry, she’d left her things in the bedroom. There was nothing she could do about it now, but wrap another towel around herself and run into the bedroom. She put her ear to the door, and hearing no other noise, eased the door open. She gasped. Hank stood in front of the bathroom door with his fist in the air, ready to knock.
“I was just going to let you know I ordered dinner, and it should be here in twenty minutes.” His gaze dropped to her hand, clutching the edges of the towel in front of her breasts. His mouth softened and the skin around his eyes crinkled. “Don’t worry, you can come in casual attire.”
She stared up into his eyes. Not only sexy, but a sense of humor too? Once again, she questioned her timing. Why couldn’t these kinds of things happen at a more convenient period in her life?
“Can I ask you something?” She eased past him, putting space between them.
He stepped back and leaned against the back of the couch. “Shoot.”
“How do you think I performed on my job this week?”
“Great. Why?”
“Just wondering.”
His gaze lowered, and his mouth hardened. “You’re hurt.”
"It's nothing." She crossed her ankles, trying to hide her bare legs. “I better get dressed.
“I was planning on eating in the hot tub tonight and seeing how you have one too, how about we relax and share dinner,” he said. "Why don't you put on your swimsuit, unless you'd like to go buck naked, I'm all for that too."
She glanced at the sliding door. “I…I'll get dressed."
“Go on, and then you can put your feet in.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You won’t want to put your knees in, because it’ll hurt like hell. Do you want me to call down and see about getting you some aspirin or anything?”
“No.” She licked her lips. “I’m fine. Really. I took a tumble. The shower helped, and they don’t hurt as much anymore.”
“Okay.” He walked over and opened the door to the patio. “Pizza delivery should be here soon.”
She couldn’t move. What was he doing? She had no clue what was happening, except that she was flustered. He wasn’t the typical guest at the hotel, this wasn’t a typical situation, and what was going on between them was anything but typical in her life. He made her nervous.
“Hank?”
“Yeah?”
She wanted to ask him what was going on, but what if she didn’t like his answer? It hit her that she’d psyched herself up for the impossible. She wanted to get to know Hank, and wanted something real that she could hold on to for the rest of time. He was a wonderful man and whether it was naive of her or not, she thought she might be falling in love with him.
“Something’s happening between us, right? I’m not imagining that I’m standing here naked with a towel wrapped around me, and we’re both okay with that?”
“If your heart is racin
g as fast as mine, it’s right.”
“It is,” she whispered.
“Good," he whispered back. “Go on with you. Get dressed. I’ll go down and meet the delivery van when it comes, and then join you in the tub.”
He whistled as he walked back through the room and out the door. In her stupor, she smiled. Never in her life had she done something as reckless as jump in the hot tub with a cowboy, while staying in a honeymoon suite. When it came to Hank, she’d ended up having a lot of firsts.
She hurried into the bedroom, rummaged through her clothes, and found her purple string bikini. She clutched the skimpy material to her bare chest. It wasn’t like Hank hadn’t seen her before in the bikini. Duh, Ava. You flaunt your body, enjoy yourself, and if dinner turns into more, you grab the bull by the tail and hang on.
Chapter Sixteen
Hank tossed Ava a towel. “Don’t get in. Just sit on the edge and put your feet in.”
She eyed the small hand towel. It might cover one boob or if she was lucky, the top of her thigh. She stood, adjusted her top, and wiped her hands dry.
He came back carrying a pizza box in one hand and a wine bottle with two glasses in the other hand. “You had a delivery while I was walking down the hallway. Someone sent you wine. I hope it was okay that I accepted it?”
“You didn’t let anyone see you bringing it to my room, did you?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Good.” She smiled. “I don’t want any of the staff starting rumors.”
“You’re safe. The only one who knows is George, and he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to get you in trouble.”
“No,” she sighed. “He’s been wonderful this week.”
“I grabbed an extra glass…I hope you don’t mind sharing. You shouldn’t drink alone.”
“Is that some cowboy rule?” She leaned over braced her hands on her thighs.
“Ah, you’ve heard it before?”
She shook her head. “No.”
