The Time of Her Life by Jeanie London

wait
for Jay, Susanna hurried to the first floor and forgot to ask about the
bread.
    * * *
    J AY HAD HEARD THROUGH the
grapevine that Susanna had long been on the property today, but he hadn’t seen
her yet. She’d been spending a lot of time in her office these past few days
while he’d been busy babysitting Walter, who wanted to go over the budget
variances for “one last look” for the fiftieth time before the formal financial
review, where his work would be held against a corporate yardstick.
    After Jay had finally escaped Walter at noon, he was quickly
cornered in the north wing common area on the third floor by Winnie, a private
aide.
    “Did you tell Mrs. Harper she can’t have the bread?”
    Jay stared stupidly for a moment, mentally translating. Thanks
to Winnie’s heavy Spanish accent, her question came out sounding something
like:
    “Did-a you tell-a Meesus Harper she canna
have zee bread?”
    “Why would I tell Mrs. Harper that?”
    “I do not know. That’s why I asked.”
    Fair enough. “No. I did not tell Mrs. Harper she couldn’t have
the bread. What’s the problem?”
    Winnie launched into an animated tale, and Jay caught about
every fourth or fifth word. Unfortunately, when Winnie got going, her hands
started flying and she spoke so fast a native Spanish speaker would struggle to
get the message.
    Jay eventually got the gist. “No, I did not tell the new
administrator to cut off Mrs. Harper,” he assured Winnie.
    A woman in the mid stages of Alzheimer’s plus an administrator
who hadn’t yet familiarized herself with all the residents’ routines made for an
interesting encounter.
    “There’s some sort of misunderstanding, Winnie. Tell Mrs.
Harper I’ll sort things out and not to worry. She can pick up her bread as usual
on—” today was Monday “—Thursday. I’ll make sure Dietary isn’t throwing any
away.”
    “Gracias, Mr. C. Gracias,” Winnie said breathlessly. “I tell her right
now. Right this very minute.”
    “You do that, Winnie, and thanks for letting me know.”
    Jay escaped, heading straight for Dietary, where he let Liz
know that the long-standing order for bread still stood. Then he found Winnie
again, who explained that while she’d managed to calm Mrs. Harper down, she’d
only managed after the woman had called her son to report the grave injustice.
“I tried, Mr. C. Too late. You may geet a call from Mr. George.”
    “No problem, Winnie. I’ll explain what happened.” Once he
figured that out.
    After a brief appearance in physical therapy, he headed to
Susanna’s office. She sat behind her desk, squinting at the computer monitor
with a pensive expression.
    He got right to business and explained the situation.
    “I don’t understand, Jay,” she said. “Mrs. Harper thought I
said she couldn’t have leftover bread anymore?”
    He nodded.
    “Oh.” Her mouth did the most distracting things when she was
thinking. Lips parted around a breathy sound then tucked tight. She was
perplexed. So was he. This woman was his ticket out of The Arbors. Nothing more.
So why did he notice her sheer blouse stretched across her bosom as she sank
back in her chair?
    “I must not have done a very good job of expressing myself,”
Susanna finally said. “I saw Mrs. Harper with all that bread and was curious.
Little lady. Lots of bread. I thought it was a good opportunity to introduce
myself, so I tracked her down in the dayroom.”
    “She says her rosary there every morning. In the afternoon she
goes to the south wing. Did she tell you her son brought those rosary beads from
the Vatican? Blessed by the Pope.”
    Susanna smiled. “She did. We chatted and I asked about the
bread. She never actually told me what she did with it, so I’m not sure what I
said to give her the impression she couldn’t have any more. I’m sorry there was
confusion. Do you think I should address the issue with her?”
    Susanna’s offer surprised him. Admirable, but Mrs. Harper
probably