Best Place to Die by Charles Atkins Page A

ring. Leaving the door ajar, she went in and saw the answering machine on the granite kitchen pass-through blinking with recent calls.
    She picked up. ‘Hello?’
    â€˜Mom, where were you?’ Her daughter, Susan – Aaron’s mother – sounded frantic. ‘I’ve been trying to get you all morning . . . Where’s Aaron?’
    â€˜He’s with me . . . I’m assuming you’ve seen the news.’
    â€˜Is Grandma OK, what’s going on?’
    â€˜Everyone’s fine,’ Ada said, looking down the hall as Aaron held the screen door for Alice and Rose.
    â€˜Did you see Jack?’
    The question stopped Ada. ‘Jack?’ The mere mention of her son-in-law blackening her mood further. ‘Why the hell would he be here?’
    â€˜The fire,’ Susan said. ‘He got paged a little after five. I’ve been trying to reach you ever since.’
    â€˜Susan, it’s been one hell of a morning, and maybe I’m losing it, but what would Jack be doing here?’
    â€˜The Clarion underwrites that place. He got paged and was out of here like his job depended on it. You know him, he thinks he’s always one paycheck from getting his pink slip.’
    â€˜I didn’t see him,’ she said, ‘and your grandmother is fine. Just furious with me, but that’s nothing new. Aaron’s with her now; she’ll be staying for a while. Maybe later you’d come down for a visit.’
    Ada felt her daughter’s hesitation. ‘I’ll have to check with Jack.’
    â€˜For the love of God, Susan, your son and your grandmother are both down here, and would love to see you. Not to mention your mother could use a little help right now.’
    â€˜I know, Mom, it’s just . . .’
    â€˜Forget it!’ Ada snapped, wondering what had happened that had so entirely robbed her daughter of every ounce of courage and self esteem. The answer flew back with a single syllable – Jack. A man she’d disliked from the very first, who over the years had bullied and belittled her once brilliant and enthusiastic daughter into a scared mouse. ‘If you can make it great. But don’t worry, everyone’s fine. I’ve got to go.’
    â€˜Mom, it’s just . . .’
    â€˜Goodbye, Susan.’ She ended the call, as Aaron thoughtfully spread an old quilt over her sofa and settled Rose and Alice in their drenched and filthy nightdresses.
    She overheard him talking to the women, his voice calm.
    â€˜I’ll make tea,’ he said. ‘Then we’ll hunt down some warm clothes, Nana Rose. It’s going to be OK, you’ll see.’
    Ada watched from the kitchen, her chest filled with pride and wonder.
    â€˜You’re a good boy,’ Rose said, and she looked toward the kitchen pass-through and Ada. ‘Unlike some others who boss people into things they don’t want to do.’
    Ada’s cheeks flushed –
this is not my fault –
and was about to remind her mother of all the falls, the middle-of-the-night distress calls and how she’d been going back and forth to New York for years trying to keep her mother in that damn Rivington Street apartment, when the phone rang again.
    â€˜Hello?’
    â€˜Mrs Strauss?’ A man’s anxious voice.
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜Hi, my name is Kyle Sullivan, I’m a nurse at Nillewaug. You’re listed as the emergency contact for Rose Rimmelman. Do you know where she is?’
    â€˜With me.’
    â€˜Oh, thank God,’ he said. ‘Has she been checked out at a hospital?’
    â€˜No, she refused to go, and at this point I’m not going to argue. She seems fine though, and we have another of your residents with us.’
    â€˜Alice?’ His voice caught. ‘Please tell me you have Alice Sullivan.’
    â€˜I didn’t know that was her last name, but yes, I think so. Red hair, probably in her seventies, has some kind of