Beauty and the Thief

by Jeff Shelby

  Her glare was like a laser beam, searing a hole into me, and I had a sinking feeling that my little stunt was going to cost me way more than I’d bargained.

  I felt no loyalty to Anne, and although I felt bad that I’d made assumptions about her that appeared to be untrue, I didn’t feel guilty about voicing them.

  But I was committed to the residents at Oasis Ridge. In fact, they were what kept me coming back every day, even after a particularly difficult time with Anne and even after I constantly perused the job listings, trying to convince myself that I was finally ready to move on to a better opportunity.

  No, the residents were the one thing I loved about my job, and I was now worried that I might not be the one choosing to walk away.

  I might be on the verge of getting my rear kicked out the door.

  “I’m sorry.” My apology was genuine. I was sorry that I’d gotten ahead of myself, that I’d shot off accusations with no real proof that pointed to Anne’s involvement. “I love the residents, and I guess I’m just worried about June and what she’s going to do now.”

  A frown creased Anne’s forehead. “What do you mean, what she’s going to do? Is she reopening her business?”

  “She’s moving.”

  Anne’s eyebrows shot to her hairline. “Moving?” she echoed.

  I nodded.

  “Why don’t I know about this?” she demanded. “I haven’t heard a word.”

  “I don’t think it’s common knowledge yet,” I said.

  “How do you know?” Anne asked. “And better yet, why would she be considering a move?”

  “I know because she told me. I talk to the residents.” And then, because that came out sounding like Anne herself didn’t, I added, “She had her business to help pay her bills. And now that she doesn’t have it, she’s short on cash. Short enough that she can no longer afford to live here.”

  Anne sniffed. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “What part? The fact that she needs a job to afford to live here?”

  “She’s never said a word to me about this.”

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Of course she hasn’t. She’s a proud woman, and private, too. She’d never want anyone to know that she was selling her products because she needed to.”

  Anne was quiet for a minute. “You’re sure she is looking for a new place?”

  “She had a rental magazine on Friday,” I said, nodding. “She was looking through it and circling potential communities.”

  Anne’s palm slapped the desk, startling me. “We can’t have another vacancy,” she announced. “My goal this year was to reach and maintain one hundred percent occupancy rates. I am this close, Sunny.” She held her thumb and pointer finger together, just a fraction of an inch apart.

  I almost felt bad about bursting that particular bubble. “Sorry,” I said. “But June is as good as gone. As soon as she finds a place she can afford, she’s out of here.”

  Anne shook her head. “That can’t happen.”

  “I don’t see how you’re going to stop it.”

  This time, it was her fist that came down, crashing into the desktop. “We need to keep her here. Whatever we have to do, we’ll do it.”

  I stilled. An idea occurred to me.

  “Anything?” I ventured.

  Anne nodded emphatically.

  “Including letting her restart her business?”

  Apprehension flitted across Anne’s face and I raised my eyebrows, waiting for her response.

  Her shoulders sagged. “Fine,” she snapped, but there wasn’t any malice behind it, only resignation. “She can restart her godforsaken business.”

  TWENTY EIGHT

  I sat at my desk, staring at my office phone. I’d left Anne’s office fifteen minutes earlier and after quickly scanning my schedule for the day, had shifted gears and was once again thinking about June and the crime that had occurred in her apartment.

  Anne insisted she wasn’t responsible.

  I still wasn’t sure that I believed her, but I didn’t have a single shred of hard evidence to go on. She’d told me she wasn’t involved and she’d provided answers that seemed to indicate her innocence.

  This was frustrating, because I wanted answers for June. I wanted to provide some sense of closure, both for her and for the other people who had been affected by it. Both Jackie and Rudy had been jolted by the accusations of being involved, and I knew Aidan and Denise and I were eager to find answers—and justice—for the resident we all liked so much.

  But I also wanted to figure out a way for June to stay at Oasis Ridge. Once I’d told Anne that June was planning to move out, she had quickly changed her tune and had agreed to allow June to start up her business again. This felt like a huge victory, but reality sunk in as soon as I left Anne’s office.

  Starting up the business would require money. So much of June’s inventory had been destroyed or perhaps even stolen, and she had been the first to admit that she didn’t have any money stashed away, especially not to order new supplies. If she did, she wouldn’t have felt the need to immediately begin searching for a new retirement community to call home.

  The problem was a simple one. If June didn’t have money to buy the supplies she needed, how in the world could she turn things around for herself?

  The answer was simple. She couldn’t.

  Unfortunately, I didn’t have a secret stash of money hidden under a mattress. And I didn’t have a bank account flush with extra cash, either.

  But then I remembered that I did, in fact, know someone who was sitting on a pretty hefty payout after selling his company.

  My dad.

  A conversation we’d had a few months ago took front and center stage in my mind. We’d chatted on the phone back in the summer and he’d told me that he’d sold his irrigation and sprinkler company…and for a sound profit, too. He planned to spend his retirement years golfing and vacationing and putzing around the house, which were all things he deserved after the thirty-some years of sweat, blood, and tears he’d poured into his company.

  But he had said something else, something that I remembered distinctly.

  He’d offered to pay off some of my student loans. I’d refused—mostly because I didn’t owe much to begin with and because I didn’t feel entitled to any of the profits from the company—but now I was rethinking that decision.

  I reached for my phone and, before I could change my mind, found his name in my contacts and quickly hit the call button.

  He answered on the first ring. “Sunny!” he boomed. “This is a surprise.”

  “Hi, Dad.” The background noise on the call told me he was outside. “What are you up to?”

  “I just dropped your mother off at the hair salon,” he said. “I’m heading over to the golf shop. Need some new shirts.”

  “You’re in the car?” It sounded too loud for that.

  He chuckled. “Sure am. I’m in the convertible and the top is all the way down today. Gotta enjoy this weather!”

  “The convertible?” Since when did my dad own a convertible?

  “Didn’t I tell you? I bought a convertible at the end of summer. Nice little Ford Mustang. Your mother’s not crazy about it. Says it blows her hair around.”

  My mouth dropped open. “You bought a Mustang?”

  “Yep.” I could tell by his voice that a big smile was stretched across his weathered face. “Not red, though. Your mother drew the line there. Black one. And she is a beauty. The car, not your mother. Although she is a beauty, too.”

  “That’s great, Dad.” I didn’t know what else to say.

  “So what’s going on with you? You just calling to say hi or…?”

  I picked up a pen from the desk and rolled it between my fingers. “Well, I always want to say hi,” I told him. “And catch up and stuff.” I paused. “But there is a reason I’m calling today.”

  “Have at it,” he said. “I’m almost to the golf store. Hoping I have time to grab a donut at the ba
kery before I have to go back for your mother.”

  “Are you supposed to be eating donuts?”

  “Nope,” he said cheerfully. “Which is why I have to hurry.”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle. He drove my mother nuts sometimes, and for good reason.

  “Alright, I was thinking about something you said a few months back.”

  “You’re gonna have to be more specific than that,” he said. “I’m a senior citizen. My memory isn’t so good these days. Heck, you work with seniors; you probably deal with that all the time.”

  “I do,” I said, smiling. “It was the call when you told me you’d sold the company,” I began.

  He let out a little hoot. “Best day of my life. Well, besides the day you were born, of course. And my wedding day. Well, that day was a little rough. A lot of things went wrong but—”

  I was already beginning to feel a little uncertain in regards to what I was about to do, so I forged ahead, cutting him off before he launched into a lengthy walk down memory lane. “You mentioned money, and the possibility of loaning some out.”

  “Of course!” A siren sounded on his end of the phone and he raised his voice to be heard over it. “How much do you need, sweetie? This for your student loans?”

  “No,” I said. “Um, it actually wouldn’t be for me.”

  “What did you say?” he practically yelled. The sirens got louder. “Hang on a minute, gotta let this ambulance get by.”

  The siren wailed so loud in my ear, it sounded like it was right outside my office. Eventually, the decibels lowered to tolerable levels and my dad spoke again.

  “So you need a loan is what you’re telling me?”

  I leaned back in my chair. “I’m actually not the one who needs it.”

  There was a slight pause. “I’m not following.”

  I tapped the pen on the edge of the desk, imagining it was a drumstick. “There’s this resident here who has fallen on some pretty hard times.”

  “A resident?”

  I pictured June with her blondish-brown hair and her trim figure. She didn’t look much older than my own parents, which brought up a whole host of issues—about mortality, about their golden years, etc.

  I cleared my throat. “Yes. She’s fallen on some hard financial times, through no fault of her own, and I’d really like to help her get back on her feet. It would definitely be a loan,” I assured him, when my initial statements were met with silence. “And she would be using it to restart a business, not for living expenses.”

  “A business? I thought you said she was a resident.”

  “She is.” As concisely as possibly, I explained what had happened to June.

  “Well, that’s a darn shame,” my dad declared. “Who would do something like that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Is someone investigating?”

  I was quiet. It didn’t feel like the right time to tell him that I was operating not only as the activities director at Oasis Ridge, but as the facility’s own personal detective, too. On my own, of course. Anne would have fired me on the spot if she’d known just how much I’d stuck my nose into this particular issue.

  “They’re trying to figure out what happened and who was responsible,” I said carefully. It felt like a safe answer. “But what I’m trying to do is make sure June doesn’t have to leave. Oasis Ridge is her home, and her business was the thing that allowed her to pay her bills.”

  My dad sighed. “It’s stories like these that make me so grateful for what we have. Your mother and I, you…we could have been this June woman. Well, I mean, I couldn’t have since I’m not a woman, but you get my drift.”

  I knew what he was saying. He’d worked hard and deserved every bit of the success he’d found, but he was also acutely aware that luck had played a prominent role in his good fortune. Luck had sent him some big contracts. Luck had positioned our family in a community that grew by leaps and bounds when I was growing up…and all of those new properties needed sprinkler systems installed. If we’d lived somewhere else, would Dad have had as much success?

  I didn’t know the answer to that question, just like I didn’t know June’s history or what had brought her to where she was now.

  But I did know one thing.

  I was in a position to help.

  And I wanted to. Desperately.

  “So what do you think?” I asked. “Do you think you could float me—her—a loan for a few months?”

  His answer was immediate. “How much should I transfer?”

  Tears sprung to my eyes. This was my dad in a nutshell. He had a heart of gold and was always willing to help.

  I wiped the wetness from my eyes and swallowed back the lump that had formed in my throat. I would not cry.

  Or at least I would try not to.

  “Um, I don’t know,” I admitted. “I’m not sure what she needs, to be honest. I could ask her and call you back…”

  “I’ll send ten grand right now,” my dad said.

  My throat suddenly felt dry. Ten thousand dollars. My dad was willing to send that much, no questions asked.

  “You have that PayMe app, right?” he continued.

  “You have PayMe?”

  “Your mother made me install it on my phone for some godforsaken reason. Something about if our credit cards got stolen, we’d still be able to access our money.”

  I stifled a chuckle. That sounded like something my mom would do. Not that she was technically savvy, of course. She’d probably heard about the app on one of her local morning news shows and then immediately tracked down Dad and ordered him to install it so they too could be “safe” and “protected.”

  “Yeah,” I said, still floored over how quickly and easily he’d agreed to transfer such a vast sum of money. “My personal email address, not my work one.”

  “Got it,” he said. “Now, is there anything else?”

  Guilt needled me. I didn’t want to be the kid who just called and asked for money, but I didn’t really have anything else to say.

  “Because I’m at the golf shop,” he said. “And if I get in there now, I’ll still have enough time to grab that buttermilk old fashioned before I head back to pick up your mom.”

  I laughed. “Don’t let me keep you.”

  He chuckled, too. “You know how good Davy’s Donuts are.”

  I did. The little donut shop in my hometown made the best donuts in Florida.

  “I’ll treat you to some the next time you’re home,” Dad promised. “Deal?”

  “Deal.” I swallowed. “And, Dad?”

  “Yep, kiddo?”

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it. We gotta do good deeds to keep this world a good place. That’s my firm belief.”

  It wasn’t the stuff inspirational speeches were made of, but the sentiment expressed came through loud and clear.

  And I agreed with him one hundred percent.

  “Yes we do,” I murmured. “And I intend to do just that.”

  TWENTY NINE

  As soon as I hung up the phone, I left my office in search of June.

  I was excited to tell her the good news, but I was a little nervous, too. I hadn’t actually asked her if she wanted financial assistance, and I had no idea how she would react to my offer of help. What if she rejected it outright? Would I be able to convince her to take the loan or would she continue with her plans to find a new place and move out?

  My phone buzzed as I was walking down the hallway and I pulled it out of my pocket so I could check the screen. It was an email notification from PayMe, with a mindboggling amount of numbers as the deposit amount. My pulse quickened and I stuffed my phone back in my pocket as I headed up the stairs to June’s apartment.

  Her door was closed, and knocking on three separate times yielded no answer. Breakfast was over and it was nowhere near time for lunch. The activity calendar for the day was light, thanks to Anne’s red pen removals last week, so the places I could go and look for
her felt limited.

  A thought hit me. What if she was out looking at new places to live? She didn’t have a car but there was a shuttle service in town that catered to seniors in the area, and we’d also trained some of our more mobile residents on the ins and out of using the various car for hire services available. There was nothing to prevent residents from leaving for the day or overnight, and I had a sinking feeling that June had probably taken off in search of the new, more affordable place to call home she was looking for.

  I went back downstairs and checked the dining room. We were between meals, but oftentimes residents would get coffee or tea to tide them over until it was time to eat. If the Gathering Room was full, or even if they just wanted another room to sit and visit in, they would sometimes spill over into the dining room and park themselves at tables there, much to Lola’s dismay. She ran a tight ship and she was of the mind that people came to the dining room to eat. Period.

  But June was nowhere to be seen, further solidifying my belief that she’d left the property.

  I did find Denise in the dining room, though, setting out cloth napkins for the noon meal.

  She looked up from the table she’d just finished. “I just made a fresh pot of coffee,” she told me. “Help yourself.”

  “I’m not here for coffee, but thanks.”

  She arched a thickly lined brow. “Since when are you not in here for coffee?” She nodded knowingly. “Oh, wait. Maybe you finally got your own pot for your office. Or maybe you just have a drip line directly into your veins.”

  “Ha ha,” I said sarcastically. But she had a valid point. “I’m actually looking for June. Have you seen her?”

  Denise picked up the box of clean napkins and carried it to the next table. “No. Why are you looking for her?”

  I didn’t want to tell her that I had money for June, money I wasn’t even sure she would want or accept. “Oh, I just wanted to see how she was doing.”

  Denise looked at me with narrowed eyes. “See how she is doing?”

  I nodded.

  She dropped napkins at each place setting, making sure they stayed folded in their neat little triangular shapes. “You figure anything out?”