Lisa Jordan - Lakeside Family

Josie’s eyes widened at the number of zeroes to the left of the decimal point. She glanced at Agnes and Ian. “Twenty thousand? Seriously?”

Ian guided her to the chair and forced her to sit. He took one beside her. “Don’t worry, Josie. The insurance should cover it.”

“Should?” Her voice squeaked. “It has to.”

“Normally, yes, but in cases of neglect, things get a little dicey.”

She gripped the edge of the paper. “Do you know how many cancer treatments twenty thousand will buy?” Not to mention, it could go a long way toward her growing pile of co-pays and medical bills. She couldn’t afford to waste it on a stupid toilet problem.

Agnes set a steaming cup of tea in front of Josie. “Drink, Sugar Pie.”

She cupped her hands around the mug, breathed in herbal mint and blinked back tears. “I can’t afford this, Aggie. I could sell the shop, but then I’ll lose Hannah’s insurance.”

Agnes pulled out a chair and sat opposite of Ian, sandwiching his hands between her own. “Ian James, you know as well as I do that Josie has been spending every possible minute with her daughter, taking her to the doctor and chemo treatments and keeping this place running.”

“Of course, Agnes.” The tips of his ears turned crimson.

“Don’t seem to me that it’s neglect if she simply hasn’t had time to attend to it. Why, that’s just silly. Shame on you for making this poor girl cry. As if she doesn’t have enough to worry about already. Now you be a good insurance man and file the paperwork so Josie doesn’t have to worry her pretty little head about this anymore.” She patted his cheek as if he were a six-year-old child being scolded for eating cookies before dinner.

Agnes stood and slid her hand under Josie’s elbow, guiding her to stand. “Come along, Josie. Ian will take care of everything. Won’t you, darlin’?”

Slack-jawed, Josie stared at her friend and then slid a glance at Ian. The poor man was so smitten by Agnes—and no, she didn’t blame him—he’d probably don a chicken suit and cluck if requested.

Pushing to his feet, Ian cleared his throat and ran a hand over his slicked-back hair. “Don’t you worry about a thing, Josie. I’ll make sure everything is taken care of. I’ll call Harv and deal with him myself. Agnes is right. You have more important things to worry about.”

Agnes rounded the table and showered him with a honey-laden smile. She brushed invisible lint off his jacket and straightened his narrow pinstriped tie. “You are a good, good man, Ian James. You and I both know Josie isn’t neglectful. Forgetful, maybe, but can you blame the poor dear? Her mind is wrapped around her calendar and her daughter’s health.” Agnes spun on her toes and sashayed her size six Texas dynamo behind the counter to wait on a customer.

Ian fumbled to put his notepad and computer tablet in his hard-sided briefcase. He removed his glasses from his pocket and set them on his nose without taking his eyes off Agnes. “She’s a firecracker, isn’t she?”

Josie glanced over her at her friend and grinned. “That’s one word for it.”

Ian gave Josie’s shoulder a squeeze and then ambled out the door, whistling.

Josie straightened the chairs and grabbed her cooling cup of tea. She set it on the counter by the espresso machine and applauded quietly. “That, my friend, deserved an Oscar.”

Agnes looked up from the latte she was making. “Whatever do you mean?”

“That man is so sweet on you, he’d do anything you asked.”

“All of this coffee has marinated your brain. You’re imagining things.”

“I didn’t imagine that hole in the floor. I just hope the insurance will cover it.”

“Ian will come through for you, Sugar Pie. And so will God. Just you wait and see.”

* * *

Nick stood on the sidewalk in front of the white clapboard house with red shutters and checked the house number against the scribbles on his paper. It looked more like someone’s home than a place for adults with special needs.

Before Josie whirled back into his life yesterday, Nick received a call from Miss Patty, his brother’s group home caregiver, giving him a month to find a new place for Ross. Her son-in-law received orders to Okinawa, and Patty was moving to Virginia to be with her pregnant daughter. At least she gave him a place to check out—Jacob House, owned by her cousin Mae and her husband, Walt.

He needed to do this. For Ross.

His brother was going to lose it when moving day arrived. And being even farther from Linwood Park wasn’t going to help with Nick’s commute. Maybe he should just cancel the appointment.

Not an option. Patty was still moving, and Nick couldn’t care for Ross by himself.

Exposed branches scratched at the multipaned dormer windows. He strode up the cleared sidewalk, making a mental note of the wheelchair ramp off to the side and covered with nonskid surfacing. Snow melted like leftover frosting over low evergreens hugging the rails of the wraparound porch. A black mailbox with a red cardinal painted on the front hung next to the door.

The wide front porch with the gray planked floor, padded wooden rockers and swaying porch swing made Nick think of summer evenings shooting the breeze with neighbors or enjoying a quiet evening with the family while swigging iced tea from Mason jars.

The curtains in the window moved, and a pale face pressed to the glass stared at him. Nick lifted a hand. The face disappeared, leaving behind a smudge on the pane.

He wiped his feet on a bristled welcome mat and rang the doorbell, hearing the gongs echo throughout the interior. No turning back now.

The door opened, revealing a man with graying hair and wearing faded jeans and an Ohio State sweatshirt. A wide smile erased the drill instructor sternness from his forehead. “Good morning. You must be Nick. I’m Walt Hoffman.” He held out a hand.

Nick shook it. “Nick Brennan.”

“We spoke on the phone. Welcome to Jacob House. Come in and meet everyone.” He stepped aside for Nick to enter.

The aroma of freshly baked bread reminded him of Josie’s place. His mouth watered.

A woman with dark hair pulled into a ponytail and dressed in a denim jumper and white tennis shoes came out of the living room. “Good morning. You must be Nick. I’m Jane Vogt, one of the staffers. Let me take your coat.”

“Nice to meet you, ma’am.” He shook her hand and then shrugged off his jacket to hand to her. Over Jane’s shoulder, three men stood in the living room doorway, whispering to each other.

Jane turned and laid her hand on the shoulder of one man with neatly combed red hair and wire-rimmed glasses. His almond-shaped eyes stared at Nick as his tongue protruded slightly from his mouth. He wore a green-and-yellow bowling shirt with Ernie stitched on the left pocket and hugged a Cabbage Patch-style doll dressed the same way, glasses and all. “Ernie, this is Nick Brennan. Nick, Ernie is one of our residents at Jacob House.”

“Nice to meet you, Ernie.” Nick held out his hand.

“Nice to meet you, too.” Ernie spoke with a slight lisp as he reached for Nick’s hand. He thrust the doll at Nick. “This is Frederick.”

Nick shook Frederick’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Frederick.”

Ernie whispered something in Frederick’s ear and then put the doll’s mouth to his own ear. He grinned. “Frederick said nice to meet you, too.”

Jane linked her arms with the other two men. “This is Paul and Gideon.”

Paul’s dark hair was combed away from his face. He had a smudge of paint on his left cheek. Paint stains splattered his royal-blue apron.

“Nice to meet you, Paul.”

Paul nodded twice, gave Nick’s hand two shakes and then took two steps back where he tapped on the wall twice. He dropped his gaze to the floor, but his lips moved as he talked to himself.