and allowed her heavy eyelids to shut for just a moment. Silver Hospitality was quiet, and she hated it when her blood sugar dropped, dragging her down when she’d rather be doing a plethora of other things.
Shaking loose of the dream state, she reached into her pocket for a packet of almonds. Should have known better than to eat an apple turnover for breakfast. A little protein and she’d be back to finishing up the trilogy. She’d tried a couple of steampunk and vampire novels, but she preferred fantasy with strong symbolism that made sense in the real world. The stories kept her mind occupied while her heart broke for Earl.
Yesterday’s meeting at the FBI weighed on her thoughts. If she believed for one minute those agents were making fun of Earl, she would have unloaded a box of shells on them. But she trusted Daniel, the light of her and Earl’s life.
Time to exercise and walk off the stress while the other old folks played games. Glancing at Earl, she smiled at his setting up the domino board. Two women chatted and both were watching a John Wayne Western. Poor dears. Did either of them understand what was happening?
“Enjoy your movie,” she said to the women. “Can I get you anything?”
“Coffee would be nice,” one woman said. “Add a little rum, would you, honey?”
A staff member passed through and acknowledged the woman’s request. “I’ll get you a fresh cup, but we’re out of rum.”
Abby made her way to the front desk. Marsha Leonard hunched over her computer. “That frown will add years to your face.”
Marsha glanced up and gave a half smile. “Abby, paperwork drives me insane. Compound that with the remote possibility of a staff member scamming a few of our clients, and I’m ready to take up full-time residence here.”
“When I’m teetering between the overwhelmed zone and bring-me-medication, I do one of three things.”
Marsha straightened. “I’m ready for suggestions.”
“Head for the treadmill with a good book and jazz playing into my Skullcandy. Or walk and pretend I’m on my knees. Or go hunting. Not in that order.”
Marsha laughed. “You never stop amazing me.”
“When I do, I’m ready for the funeral home.” Abby leaned over the counter. “How can I help you?”
“Not sure.”
“Let’s visit the new wing before I hit the treadmill.”
“Are you stressed?”
Abby hesitated. Marsha was a friend, but not a sister type. “Like Earl, I’m concerned.”
“The board of directors is screaming for answers.”
Abby hooked her arm with Marsha’s. “Hold your head high and tell the board what you know.”
They walked outside into warm sunshine and on toward the new area. The hum and whine of saws along with the fresh scent of newly cut wood reminded Abby how soon Silver Hospitality would open their doors to eighteen more clients.
“How can I ever thank you for this?” Marsha said. “Larger rooms, the massage and hot tub area, a medical examining room. A dozen slots for new clients are already filled.”
“Glad Earl and I could help.”
“I’m sorry you’re caught in the middle of this.” She took Abbyby the shoulders. “Those with Alzheimer’s are easily confused, misunderstand reality. You live with it.”
Abby heard the compassion. She wouldn’t mention the trip to the FBI or how Special Agents Laurel Evertson and Thatcher Graves believed them. Or how Daniel promised solid answers. Or how she really felt about Tom’s death. Or how she feared for Emma and Earl.
Sure wished she had a rifle and woods filled with wild boars to relieve her stress.
CHAPTER 9
3:35 P.M. FRIDAY
Laurel drove to her apartment complex, yesterday’s conversation with Morton Wilmington running on a constant replay in her mind, distracting her to no end. Where was her backbone? Seeing Wilmington was like looking into the face of the devil. And to think he claimed to be a Christian. If so, he’d forgotten to polish his crown, and his golden gate was doused in
Shaking loose of the dream state, she reached into her pocket for a packet of almonds. Should have known better than to eat an apple turnover for breakfast. A little protein and she’d be back to finishing up the trilogy. She’d tried a couple of steampunk and vampire novels, but she preferred fantasy with strong symbolism that made sense in the real world. The stories kept her mind occupied while her heart broke for Earl.
Yesterday’s meeting at the FBI weighed on her thoughts. If she believed for one minute those agents were making fun of Earl, she would have unloaded a box of shells on them. But she trusted Daniel, the light of her and Earl’s life.
Time to exercise and walk off the stress while the other old folks played games. Glancing at Earl, she smiled at his setting up the domino board. Two women chatted and both were watching a John Wayne Western. Poor dears. Did either of them understand what was happening?
“Enjoy your movie,” she said to the women. “Can I get you anything?”
“Coffee would be nice,” one woman said. “Add a little rum, would you, honey?”
A staff member passed through and acknowledged the woman’s request. “I’ll get you a fresh cup, but we’re out of rum.”
Abby made her way to the front desk. Marsha Leonard hunched over her computer. “That frown will add years to your face.”
Marsha glanced up and gave a half smile. “Abby, paperwork drives me insane. Compound that with the remote possibility of a staff member scamming a few of our clients, and I’m ready to take up full-time residence here.”
“When I’m teetering between the overwhelmed zone and bring-me-medication, I do one of three things.”
Marsha straightened. “I’m ready for suggestions.”
“Head for the treadmill with a good book and jazz playing into my Skullcandy. Or walk and pretend I’m on my knees. Or go hunting. Not in that order.”
Marsha laughed. “You never stop amazing me.”
“When I do, I’m ready for the funeral home.” Abby leaned over the counter. “How can I help you?”
“Not sure.”
“Let’s visit the new wing before I hit the treadmill.”
“Are you stressed?”
Abby hesitated. Marsha was a friend, but not a sister type. “Like Earl, I’m concerned.”
“The board of directors is screaming for answers.”
Abby hooked her arm with Marsha’s. “Hold your head high and tell the board what you know.”
They walked outside into warm sunshine and on toward the new area. The hum and whine of saws along with the fresh scent of newly cut wood reminded Abby how soon Silver Hospitality would open their doors to eighteen more clients.
“How can I ever thank you for this?” Marsha said. “Larger rooms, the massage and hot tub area, a medical examining room. A dozen slots for new clients are already filled.”
“Glad Earl and I could help.”
“I’m sorry you’re caught in the middle of this.” She took Abbyby the shoulders. “Those with Alzheimer’s are easily confused, misunderstand reality. You live with it.”
Abby heard the compassion. She wouldn’t mention the trip to the FBI or how Special Agents Laurel Evertson and Thatcher Graves believed them. Or how Daniel promised solid answers. Or how she really felt about Tom’s death. Or how she feared for Emma and Earl.
Sure wished she had a rifle and woods filled with wild boars to relieve her stress.
CHAPTER 9
3:35 P.M. FRIDAY
Laurel drove to her apartment complex, yesterday’s conversation with Morton Wilmington running on a constant replay in her mind, distracting her to no end. Where was her backbone? Seeing Wilmington was like looking into the face of the devil. And to think he claimed to be a Christian. If so, he’d forgotten to polish his crown, and his golden gate was doused in
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