Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
E li took a personal interest in his job. He didn’t have to. The conglomerate that employed him would probably be happy if he merely met his financial targets and that was all, but part of the reason he wanted the job in the first place was the people. When he was growing up, Eli’d had two sets of neighbors. On one side was Gabe’s family. On the other were the Wilsons, a sweet old couple who had adopted him as an honorary grandson. He and Gabe had earned copious amounts of spending money by mowing, raking their leaves, trimming the hedges and, when they were older, painting the window trim and cleaning the gutters for the couple. When he was fifteen, Mrs. Wilson had a stroke and, in need of fulltime care her husband couldn’t provide, had been put into an assisted living facility.
He would never forget the first time his family took him to visit her. The smells, the sounds, the feelings. Even though he was a teenager and should have been beyond such things, it had broken his heart and made a lasting impression. That people as wonderful as Mrs. Wilson should spend their last days in a house of horrors was reprehensible. It was that reminder that made him apply for his current job, as soon as he saw the listing, giving him some career direction when before he’d had none, besides a vague business degree. He made it clear in his interview—unasked—that any facility under his care would exceed expectations for cleanliness, care, and socialization. Not that it was always easy, especially when it came to finding employees who cared about more than a paycheck. But to the best of his ability, Eli made caring for their residents a top-down approach. That was why he personally visited each of the homes he managed, for surprise inspections and to keep a good rapport with the residents. In the two years he’d managed the facilities, he’d made certain they met and even exceeded expectations. It was strange, he thought, how serendipitous life could become. Who would have thought that trimming the Wilson’s hedges would lead him to a career that felt a bit like a calling?
“Oh, Eli, yoo-hoo!” One of his favorite residents hailed him, taking a much needed hand off her walker, causing her to wobble precariously. Eli hurried closer, urging her to put the hand back down, which she did and soon stabilized.
“Yes, Mrs. Mankowitz?”
“Hello,” she said, beaming.
“Hello,” he returned, also smiling. “How are you?”
“I can’t complain,” she returned, which was heartily untrue. She had been knocked down by a mugger and sustained a broken hip. The hip hadn’t healed well, confining her to the assistance facility until they tried to get her back on her feet, quite literally. The longer she stayed, the less likely she would ever go home, and yet every time he saw her she smiled, pain or no pain.
“Now, I’ve been thinking,” she continued, reaching out her fingers to latch on to his arm.
“Yes?”
“The word around here is that you recently had your heart broken by some girl.”
“Oh,” he drawled, trying to calculate the odds that they were talking about Josie, and also who had leaked that information. There were probably too many leakers to track, however. The facilities tended to be a gossip fest. “I didn’t, actually. We’re still friends, it just didn’t work out.”
“There’s no shame in it. I remember when a girl broke up with my son. He cried like a baby and started wetting the bed again.”
“Oh, I…” Eli glanced around, dearly hoping no one was nearby to overhear and start new rumors. It could seriously put a cramp in his managerial style if people believed he had to use rubber sheets.
“Anyway, I have the perfect girl for you.” She beamed, her face going radiant with delight.
“Oh?” he said, trying hard to feign enthusiasm. Was a fix up worse than a computer-assisted blind date? Somehow, yes.
“She’s just like you—sweet and cute as a button.”
“Oh,” Eli said, still stalling. One thing he’d learned from working with the elderly was that they had different ideas of what constituted “cute.” On the other hand, she’d called him cute, so how far could he extend his skepticism before he insulted himself? Somehow she’d backed him into a conundrum of cuteness. And, really, could her date be worse than the ones he’d already had?
“Sure,” he heard himself agree. Probably nothing would come of it anyway. He’d move on and she would forget; out of sight, out of mind.
“Goody. Let me text her a picture.” She snapped a photo of him, mouth gaping and tilted in shock, as if he was in the middle of a Rocky impression. Yo, Adrian! Her phone chirped immediately with a response. “She thinks you’re cute.”
His cheeks warmed. “She does?” For that matter, who was she?
“Mm, hmm, are you busy tonight?”
“Oh, I um…” Why couldn’t he be busy tonight?
“Because she is free, and I suggested you two meet at Ray’s for dinner at six.”
“Oh, I…okay.”
“Her name is Sheena, and she’ll be waiting at the restaurant.” She patted his hand and moved on, rolling over his toes with her walker on her way past. Somehow it felt like a metaphor for the entire conversation. How had he been so easily bamboozled by an old lady?
He put the entire encounter, plus the pending date, along with the conversation with Darby, far from his mind. At this point his brain was so busy trying to suppress and forget things, it was a wonder he remembered to wear pants. Unless…
He glanced down, not taking chances. Fully dressed, yes! His fist pumped, adding an exclamation to his mental victory. A patient in a nearby wheelchair startled and glared at him.
“I’m wearing pants,” he explained which, in retrospect, wasn’t much of an explanation.
“No need to brag about it,” the man said, and that was when Eli noticed the hospital gown the patient wore.
“No, I didn’t mean…I would never…” He paused and released a breath. At this point he could admit the conversation was beyond redemption, possibly the entire day. Resolved, he gave the man a nod and moved on.
R ay’s was exactly the sort of place an octogenarian would select for a blind date. The most prominent piece of artwork was a signed photo of Bob Barker, reminding everyone to spay or neuter their pets, and the dining room was already starting to empty out after the evening’s early bird special. Tonight’s selection consisted of sliced turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy, and creamed corn. Sheena was easy to spot, both because she was the only person who sat alone and also the only person under seventy in the room.
She stood at his approach and jutted her hand, giving his a little shake that felt more like he was about to interview for a job than go on the date. He didn’t hate it, though, and she wasn’t bad to look at. Not pretty, exactly, certainly not Plushy level, but she had the kind of features that would continue to get better with age, and she was well cared for—nails painted, minimal makeup carefully applied, hair tidily arranged. No red flags yet, Eli noted. His guard remained up, however. He’d already learned the hard way that sometimes the crazy was really good at hiding.
“So, how do you know my great Aunt Louisa?” Sheena asked.
“I work at the assisted living facility where she’s been staying. Does she do this sort of thing to you often?”
“Not really. You must be special.”
“According to my mom, I’m the most special boy in the whole world. She’s really specific about that last part; that’s how you know it’s true,” Eli said, and felt relieved when she laughed.
“Wow, two women agree. That has to mean something. I guess it’s a good thing I was free tonight,” Sheena replied.
“Judging by this crowd, I think it would have been worth it for the creamed corn alone,” Eli said, motioning to the sea of white hair around them.
“I usually bypass the crowd and have it delivered directly to my residence, in an unmarked container,” Sheena said, and now it was his turn to laugh.
The date continued, pleasant and comfortable, until it was time to leave. He walked her to her car and felt the first stirrings of awkwardness. There was no way he was ready to kiss a woman he’d only met ninety minutes ago, but on the other hand it felt far too impersonal to see her to her car and drive away.
“So,” he began, then reached out a hand and lightly poked her bicep.
She laughed, apparently amused by his awkwardness. That boded well. “Yes?”
“Maybe we could do this again sometime,” he suggested.
“This specifically?” she asked, motioning to the restaurant behind him. So dependent were they on their early birds that they were already beginning to tear down and mop the floor of the empty restaurant, and it was only seven thirty.
“This or watch a marathon of Wheel of Fortune and complain about inflation. I don’t want to brag, but I have an entire litany of geriatric date ideas at my disposal.”
She whistled. “Wow. I’m impressed, and now I’m invested enough to see what you’ll spring on me next.”
They exchanged numbers and Eli drove away feeling positive about the date. For the first time in a long time, this had the potential to be something, to turn into something more, possibly the something more he’d been longing for.
The evening had worked to push all negative thoughts from his mind, especially those about his landlord. So it came as a shock when he pulled next to the parking lot of his apartment building and saw that it was roped off with police tape. Eli tried to turn in and was halted by an officer.
“The lot is closed for everyone but residents,” the officer explained.
“I’m a resident,” Eli said, trying not to squirm under the man’s suspicious gaze. “What’s going on?”
The officer removed the tape so he could drive in and park, then leaned down and spoke through the window. “There’s been a murder.”