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Precious Meadows is one of the most exclusive and expensive memory care facilities in the country. So if he’s here talking to Stacy, either he has money, or a loved one does. Or both.
If the way he looks me up and down and then seems to dismiss me as if I’m nothing more than an inconvenience makes me think it’s both.
Before I can give the matter any more thought, Anthony strolls into view, and the man turns his back to me to continue his quiet conversation with Stacy as if nothing out of the ordinary happened.
Anthony is one of the physical therapists. He gives a chuckle when he sees me. He reaches out a hand to help me up. “Hey, T-Bone. How do you manage to do that every damn time?”
Once I’m on my feet, I brush off my butt with my free hand, wishing I could dust off my dignity as easily.
“That time, it wasn’t my fault. I swear.”
“Sure it wasn’t.” He’s still laughing as he pats his leg and gives a short whistle. Ambrosia pads over to his side, back to her normal glacial energy level, but leaving a trail of cookie crumbs in her wake. Anthony walks with me out of the foyer.
Right as we turn the corner, Princess Lay-ah offers a feeble cluck from inside the carrier as if she’s just now waking up. I glance back at the man one last time, to see him looking at me in concern, as if he thinks maybe I was the one who clucked.
My cheeks burn, not because I’m embarrassed. No matter what Stacy thinks, that wasn’t my fault. And Anthony, for all his teasing, certainly doesn’t judge me the way Stacy does. As for the overly handsome man … well, what does it matter if he does think I’m a hot mess and a menace? He’s nothing to me. Besides, if he really is here for the first time, that means he’s looking for top notch care for someone he loves. He’s got enough on his plate that he’ll probably never give me a second thought.
I’m certainly not going to judge him for being cold and scornful under the circumstances.
Before I can wonder anything else about the handsome stranger, Anthony asks, “Snickerdoodles?”
“Yeah.” I sigh. One of the patients I work with is always talking about her mother’s snickerdoodle recipe and I’ve been trying to recreate it. “I think I finally got the recipe right this time, too.”
He clutches his chest in mock horror. “Say it ain’t so, T-Bone!”
I laugh at his exaggerated response, even though the tub of destroyed snickerdoodles kind of makes me want to cry.
As if he knows how bummed I am, Anthony bumps his shoulder against mine playfully. “Hey, there’s always next week, right?”
I force a bright smile. “Totally.” My steps slow. “How is Margaret doing?”
Margaret is one of my favorite patients and Anthony is her PT. I know he won’t give me too many details, but I usually can read his expressions well enough to know what to expect.
Today, he offers me a sassy grin. “Same old, same old.” Which is what he always says, but the grin tells me it’s a good day.
I stop outside Margaret’s room. This is where the nurse will buzz me in, and he’ll peel off to go back to work.
He walks backwards a step or two and shoots finger pistols at me. “May the force be with you.”
“Hey, have you watched Rogue One yet?”
“You know I don’t do those depressing movies.”
“But it’s so good!” Still, I get it. Working here takes a toll on you, so I can’t blame him for avoiding depressing things outside of work. “I can loan you a therapy chicken to cuddle while you watch it.”
A moment later, I hear the familiar chime that indicates one of the nurses at the nearby station noticed me standing outside her room and opened the door for me. I slip into her room to find Margaret sitting in the armchair in front of the TV. I’ve seen pictures of Margaret when she was young, and she was beautiful. Tall, athletic, vibrant.
I can see vestiges of that woman in her now. She’s still sturdy and strong, even though her shoulders slope. Her hair, once lush and long, is short and brittle, but still mostly dark with only a scattering of gray. She’s in her eighties, and I know they don’t dye it, so I guess it’s just good genes. But it’s always been her smile I love the most.
Of course, I love all smiles, so that’s no surprise.
I walk into the room, letting the door click audibly behind me. She looks up when I enter and smiles. It’s the same soft, friendly smile she always gives me, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Oh, hello,” she says. “I’m Margaret. Are you new here?”
So much for it being a “good” day.
I nod, setting my messenger bag down in the corner and carrying the pet carrier over to her. “I am. I’m Trinity. I brought a chicken for you to cuddle today. Would you like to meet her?”
