Jeanie London - The Time of Her Life

Now all visible reminders were packed away, their family scattered. Brooke and Brandon lived separate lives on separate campuses in separate states. Susanna was the only one left at home with the memories. Now she’d be forced to move on, too.

Was she ready?

Being a single parent was one thing. She’d had purpose to keep the family together, to help her kids deal with their father’s death. Being a single woman with a life of her own was another thing entirely.

That was something she’d never really done. After leaving home, she’d tackled college dorm life with her best friend beside her. Then, as a young bride, she’d moved from the dorms to this house with Skip....

Susanna honestly didn’t know what came next, what she could handle. She only knew that loneliness had grown all too familiar of late and something had to change.

Another deep breath.

She had to take this next step in life as an individual or else she’d remain here, feeling left behind, pining for everything she’d once had.

Life was change. Susanna knew that, and the kids could travel on school breaks far more easily to her new home in Charlotte, North Carolina, than they could return to New York where she was now. That was the reality of the situation. She’d figure out how to move on, even if she couldn’t see beyond placing one foot in front of the other.

Memories would travel with them wherever they went.

One last glance into that shadowy interior... Susanna pulled the door shut quietly, slipped the key into the lock and turned the bolt for the last time.

* * *

JAY CANADY MOVED PAST doors in the administrative corridor, pausing only to glance into the financial office.

“Got a call from the gatehouse,” he said. “The new administrator is on her way.”

He didn’t bother waiting for a reply but kept going until just shy of the front lobby, a spot where he could view the comings and goings around the reception desk, while remaining mostly hidden from view.

Mostly was the operative word. Jay wasn’t fooling anyone around here. And certainly not the daytime receptionist. Amber routinely accused him of lurking behind potted palms to catch her tweeting on her iPhone during her shift.

He wasn’t doing anything of the sort, but as owner and property administrator of The Arbors, A-list memory-care facility and family business, he was fond of hiding. Moments when he wasn’t in popular demand were few and far between.

But hiding never worked for long. Especially with Amber. She didn’t need X-ray vision to find him on any one of the sixty acres that made up the property. She wielded that iPhone like a lightsaber, texting him whenever he wasn’t within earshot and getting miffed if he didn’t reply immediately.

Jay should institute a new policy: no cell phones on shift. Radios only. But what was the point? In the very near future, none of his policies would mean squat.

The thought made him smile. As soon as the new property administrator walked through the door, everyone around here could start reprogramming their internal GPSs to take problems to someone else for solutions.

“Got your fingers crossed?” a voice crackly with age asked.

“You betcha.” Jay raised a hand to display the good-luck gesture. He didn’t bother turning around to see the man who’d shuffled up behind. Careful steps had announced Walter’s approach long before he’d reached his destination.

Like Jay himself, Walter Higgins was a fixture around The Arbors. The longtime chief financial officer was another employee who could track down Jay no matter where he was. But Walter had the distinction of being an employee who also had a role in Jay’s personal life.

Not that the entire staff couldn’t him call 24/7. They could and did. Often. But Walter’s calls weren’t always work related. Not only had he been managing The Arbors’ finances since before Jay had been born, but Walter had become an honorary grandfather since Jay’s real granddad had passed away.

That connection had been cemented when Jay’s late grandmother, after grieving the loss of her forty-year marriage, had gotten involved with Walter. Jay had never asked—never would, either—but he suspected Walter had loved Gran all along and stayed single until he got his chance to woo her into an honest relationship.

Jay would certainly miss Walter. But selling The Arbors didn’t mean giving up the people in his life. He had some work to do proving that to Walter, though.

The electronic hiss of sliding doors dragged Jay’s attention to the main lobby. His breath tightened in his chest as a dark-haired woman in a business suit strolled through with brisk steps.

“I thought you said they were sending a middle-aged widow with grown kids,” Walter grumbled.

“Widow with college kids.” The distinction obviously made a difference. “Northstar provided a bio. If memory serves—and it still does, which is always a good thing—the new administrator is around forty. Not middle-aged.”

Not for Jay, who was pulling up the rear at thirty-two, or for Walter, who was pushing eighty-six. “I’m not even sure that’s her. There wasn’t a photo.”

“She could be my granddaughter, Jay. My great-granddaughter.”

“How’s that? You never had any kids.”

Walter grunted, narrowing his gaze at the reception desk. The woman currently greeting Amber wasn’t Jay’s idea of what a widow with college kids would look like, either. The suit emphasized her curves. She wasn’t tall, but not short, either. Just really curvy.

Withdrawing a business card from her jacket, she handed it to Amber, who leaped from the chair on immediate hyperalert. Reaching across the desk, she extended a hand in welcome.

Walter scowled harder.

Judging by Amber’s actions, this woman was the new administrator, whether she was what Jay expected or not. The woman flashed an easy smile that animated a heart-shaped face framed by a tumble of dark hair.

She was a very beautiful woman, which really shouldn’t be the first thing Jay noticed. Not if he planned to retire from the memory-care business with some peace of mind.

Competent. Experienced. Professional. Compassionate. Those were the things he should be looking for.

He’d noticed one of four.

Dressing professionally was a start, he supposed. And what did competence, experience or compassion look like, anyway? Jay shook off the thought. Worry was getting the best of him, but he wouldn’t admit that to Walter, who sought any reason to launch into The-Arbors-is-your-responsibility lecture again.

Jay had heard the arguments and the lectures. More than once, thank you.

“Okay. She’s professional,” he said. “Attractive. Stylish. A bit younger than I expected—”

“A bit?”

“Haven’t had access to her personnel file,” Jay reminded. “Technically she works for Northstar Management.”

“Which is why I can’t figure out why I’m adding her to our payroll. She doesn’t come cheap, Jay. You’ll be eating a fair sum if this deal falls through.”

The deal wouldn’t fall through. “We’ve got to assume some risk. It’s only fair. Northstar would acquire this property tomorrow if it wasn’t for me insisting on a transition period.”

As much as Jay wanted out of here—and he did in a big way—he couldn’t leave without witnessing Northstar’s procedural changes and being reassured they would uphold The Arbors’ standard of care. This new administrator had six months to actualize Northstar’s promise to provide growth potential while maintaining the excellence of service established by Jay, and generations of his family before him.

That was the best he could do. He was leaving, although Walter still hadn’t given up hope he might yet dissuade Jay. But the decision was made. He’d worked hard to put together a plan to insure the future for The Arbors, the staff and residents.