Jeanie London - The Time of Her Life

“Tell me where.”

She held the door as he stepped through, or tried to, since the dogs bullied their way in first. “Kitchen, please.”

He scowled at Gatsby, who headed straight for the sofa. “Don’t even think about it.”

For once the dog obeyed.

“I’m so excited,” she said. “I won’t even have to fight my kids for the chocolate. That’ll be something new.”

The new director of The Arbors had a sweet tooth from the looks of it. She was rooting through the basket. “These pears are gorgeous. And caramel popcorn. Oh, I’m in for a good time.”

“Hope you enjoy it.”

She glanced up and met his gaze with pleasure deep in her blue eyes. “This was really sweet. Thank you. I couldn’t have asked for a better first week—work or home.”

She was making too big a deal out of his effort. All he’d done was text Pete to bring the same welcome basket they gave to all The Arbors’ new ALF residents.

But he was glad she liked everything.

Herding Butters and Gatsby outside, he let the dogs scamper down the steps and said to Susanna, “Enjoy your night.”

Then he headed in the direction of the shed to pick up the path to his house, resisting the urge to glance back to see if she was still there.

* * *

ANOTHER WEEK PASSED before Susanna managed to get the golf cart out of her shed. A frenzied week spent learning names and procedures and routines. A week spent observing medical assessments, intake meetings and care plan evaluations.

A week spent conducting performance appraisals of the various departments and orientation meetings to explain how she and Jay would work together during the transition. She let the staff know what to expect and coached them on how to address her with problems and questions. She reassured them all would be well and hoped they believed her.

Vanity had been the biggest deterrent to driving the golf cart. She was all about inspiring confidence with the staff and fitting in and couldn’t gauge the effect of the drive on her appearance. Frizzy hair? Melting makeup? Sweat stains?

But she’d begun to feel ridiculous and wasteful for taking the car on the short drive, when Jay arrived at the facility every morning with every hair in place. Except for the hair he was always pushing back off his forehead, but Susanna guessed that was a result of a cowlick rather than the morning ride.

She waited until dawn began to fade the sky before heading outside. She hadn’t wanted to tackle the unfamiliar path in the dark even though she’d been raring to go for an hour already.

Two weeks into her new life and the nerves still hadn’t worn off. She crashed at night, bone weary from the long days of information overload. Unfortunately, she was still bolting upright as quickly as she had upon first arriving at The Arbors, and usually long before the alarm, thoughts racing with the upcoming day’s agenda.

With any luck, the ride in the brisk predawn air would start her day off right. God knows she could use some fresh air.

Then there was the fact that she didn’t want to miss anything on this journey. Especially not Jay’s house.

Her phone vibrated as she clambered into the golf cart, and she hoped her plans wouldn’t be derailed by an emergency at the facility that would force her back into the car.

But the name on the display surprised her. “Good morning, Karan. What are you doing up at this ungodly hour?”

“Your guess,” Karan replied. “Saw Charles off to surgery and was wide-awake. Figured I’d give you a call since you’re the only one I know awake at this hour besides my doctor husband.”

Susanna held the phone to her ear and backed out of the shed slowly. “You’re in time for a journey through the arbors to The Arbors.”

“Maybe I’m not as awake as I thought—”

“Remember those acres and acres of flowers I mentioned? I’m taking the golf cart to work so I can see them.”

“I hope you don’t wilt like a flower. Isn’t that what you Southern belles do?”

“I don’t think I’ve been here long enough to qualify as a girl raised in the South.”

“Pshaw. You’ve been a G.R.I.T. from the minute you crossed the Mason-Dixon Line. A Girl Relocated to the South.”

“Tee-hee.”

“You sound awfully chipper this morning,” Karan said. “May I assume work’s going well and you’re getting some sleep?”

One out of two wasn’t bad, and some sleep was relative. “Can’t complain. I’m finally going to see Jay’s house. It should be right off this path.”

“I thought you were supposed to assess the place.”

“Not on the top of my to-do list. That report won’t be due until the acquisition.”

“You sound confident. Things must be going well.”

Susanna held on tight as the cart bucked over a protruding tree root. “We’ve hit a few bumps, but nothing we haven’t been able to work through.”

Yet. They hadn’t tackled the profit-and-loss statements, either. Jay insisted on full disclosure so he could gauge the corporate effects on The Arbors, and she was using every ounce of her financial expertise to figure out how wide the disconnect was between his services and payroll and Northstar’s parameters. Juggling was the key, which put sleepless hours to good use.

“We’re still in the honeymoon phase,” Susanna admitted. “Jay’s walking me through the way things work at The Arbors so we haven’t done a lot of procedural projections. There’s time.”

“You think that’s the best way to handle—”

“Ohmigosh, Karan. I think this is it,” Susanna blurted when a low brick wall appeared through a sudden break in the trees, a vision of manicured civilization in the forest.

“The plantation?”

“Yes. This has to be it. We’ve got formal landscaping. Tiered bushes and ornamental grasses and flowering vines. It is. Here’s the entry.”

There was no gate, only an opening marked by stone urns, both stained by rust from the irrigation water. The flagstone walk bore similar stains and wound into another world.

Jay’s world.

“Ohmigosh.” Susanna whispered reverently into the quiet morning. “This must be the backyard. There’s a huge lawn with those big oak trees you see in movies. Generations old like the arbors. Jay told me his great-grandmother planted them.”

“See the house yet?”

“House doesn’t even begin to describe it, Karan. Seriously. Can you say ‘antebellum plantation’?”

“Tara?”

“Actually, no.” Susanna laughed. “Except for the ambience of another era. The house isn’t even white. Just the eaves.”

Those eaves towered above two floors with massive white columns that outlined a wraparound gallery. The house had been constructed of blond brick, and the walls contrasted with the black shutters that framed every floor-to-ceiling window. And there were a lot more windows than the three that graced the porch of her cottage.

She couldn’t even begin to fathom what might drive someone away from The Arbors, and she knew the curiosity might kill her.

“You know, Karan, my cottage is very similar in design. I’ll bet that was intentional. A miniplantation.”

“Brooke should like that. She’s always loved dollhouses.”

As Karan would know since she’d indulged that particular fancy since Brooke was old enough to be trusted not to gnaw on the tiny furnishings of the ridiculously expensive dollhouses Karan gifted her with.

“Fingers crossed. I really want the kids to consider wherever I live as home base. At least until they settle down.”

“As long as you’re there it will be home base.”

Susanna appreciated the reassurance. The most important thing was being together. “I think I can see the driveway. I’ll bet if I took a left at the fork instead of the right that brings me to the cottage, I’d wind up here.”