• Twenty-One •
“I’ve liked you since I sat in that bar and watched you play an Oscar-worthy game of pool.”
Royal
“What is this place?” I asked, stepping out of the SUV and staring at the massive antebellum-style home in front of us.
“Haven House,” he replied.
I’d read the sign at the tall gates we’d driven through after the security man opened them for Amory. But that didn’t tell me what Haven House was.
Amory began helping Grams out of the vehicle. She’d been so excited about going somewhere in his fancy car earlier, but now, she clutched her favorite red leather purse to her chest as she stepped out, looking unsure.
“Is this your house?” she asked him with a touch of awe in her voice.
“No, ma’am, it isn’t,” he told her.
“Well, it’s just glorious. Right out of a movie,” she said, standing there, taking it all in. “Do we know who lives here?” she asked, then frowned at Amory. “Who are you?”
I walked over to her before she panicked. “Grams, it’s Amory Blaine, remember? He brought us here. To …” I paused, having no clue why we were here or what this place was.
“It’s a place with activities that you can participate in,” he told her. “Art classes, board games, crafting, and even story time. There are others here about your age, and they come to socialize as well as learn new things.”
My gaze swung back to the house. As nice as that all sounded, there was a price tag on that, and I knew Grams’s Medicaid would not cover it. What was Amory doing? I’d just met him, and, yes, I liked him more than I had ever liked any other man, but he was stepping too far.
“I don’t think showing us things like this is wise,” I told him, smiling so as not to alarm Grams.
“I know the owner, and I’ve set up something that is free for your Grams to attend. She can come during the day while you are working and going to school,” he replied.
That sounded too good to be true. I didn’t trust things like that. I knew better.
“Nothing in life is free,” I argued. “Everything comes with a price. This is a beautiful place, and I am sure it is just as charming inside. But I think we need to leave.”
“You don’t trust me,” he said with a quirk of his eyebrow.
I wanted to trust him. There were things I did trust when it came to him, but this wasn’t about my body. It wasn’t about me at all. It was about my Grams, and I couldn’t trust him with her.
“I like to paint. Can I paint in there?” she asked as she began walking toward the house.
Crap!
I hurried to catch up with her. “Grams, why don’t we get back in the fancy car.”
She shook her head and continued on. “I like to socialize. I’m rather good with conversation.”
Once she was, yes, but now, she remembered nothing long enough to have a conversation.
“This is a place that exclusively caters to those like your Grams. It’s a memory care facility. Just go inside and see what they offer,” he urged. “Don’t you want your Grams to have activities she enjoys and others her age around for her to visit with?”
Guilt at not being able to give her that kind of life hit me. I did the best I could for her, and, no, our life wasn’t perfect or even comfortable at times, but she didn’t go without. I didn’t visit with her like I should, but I was always busy working or taking care of things in the house. I never had time to sit and just talk to her. I just assumed since she wouldn’t remember it anyway, there was no point.
Was I wrong? Had I been neglecting her?
I stared up at the house as we reached the stairs leading up to the tall double doors.
“Isn’t this home just beautiful?” Grams said as I took her arm to help her with the first step.
“Yes, Grams, it is,” I agreed.
“Do you think someone famous lives here?” she asked, her eyes widening. “Land sakes, do they know we’ve come to visit? I should have brought a Bundt cake. My lemon one with the drizzly you love so much.”
I started to tell her she didn’t need to worry about that when the door opened, and a woman appeared. She looked to be in her mid-forties with short brown hair and bright blue-rimmed glasses, dressed in a matching blue shirt with fluffy sleeves and a pair of cream linen pants. She smiled at Grams, then shifted her gaze to Amory and finally me.
“You must be Mrs. Maude Shelton,” the lady said, looking at Grams.
How did she know Grams’s name? If Amory had told her, how had he known Grams’s name? I’d never told him her name.
I swung my gaze to him, and he winked at me.
What the hell was that? Don’t wink at me. Explain yourself.
“I am indeed,” she replied, holding her shoulders back the best she could.
“We have been looking forward to your arrival,” she said, walking out to greet us. “There is a special story time today. We have an author visiting, and she’s reading her book in the silver room instead of the library. The silver room has much more comfortable seating, and there is a spot saved just for you on the coveted teal sofa.”
Grams looked at me. “They have an author here,” she whispered loudly. “I told you someone famous lived here.”
I forced a smile and nodded. “I heard that. Do you want to go listen to her read?”
Grams turned back to the lady. “Of course I do. They have me a special seat.”
“Wonderful,” the woman replied, then waved her hand for us to enter as she stepped back.
Another lady met us as we walked into the foyer. She was younger with thick auburn hair, pulled up in a loose bun on her head. Her eyes went to Amory immediately, and she blushed slightly, looking pleased to see him, as if this wasn’t the first time.
“Tully, if you can escort Mrs. Shelton to the silver room, please,” the woman told the redhead.
She tore her eyes off Amory rather reluctantly, then smiled at Grams. “Of course,” she agreed.
I wanted to reach out and hold on to Grams, but she didn’t even give me a backward glance as she willingly went with Tully, the redhead who had a thing for Amory.
I watched them as they walked slowly to the left of the wide staircase.
“I’m Shari Darlington,” the other woman said, and I turned to look back at her. “I’m the house manager of Haven House. I oversee everything that happens here and make sure that our residents and day guests are well taken care of.”
I cleared my throat. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Darlington.”
“Just Shari, please. Now, it’s Royal, is it?” she asked.
I nodded.
“I would love to have the opportunity to show you what it is we do here.” She said it as if I were about to bolt and go grab my Grams.
I had to admit that Grams was safer here than at home with my dad. It wouldn’t hurt to let her go listen to the author read her book. I nodded again, but I didn’t look at Amory. I wasn’t sure how I felt where he was concerned right now. He’d blindsided me with this, and I didn’t appreciate it. Even if he had been trying to do something nice for Grams and help me. He should have asked me first. We weren’t his charity case, and I didn’t want to feel like one. Not to anyone, but especially not to him.
Dad was probably home by now, and I hadn’t left him a letter to tell him we’d gone out. Not that he deserved one since he’d stayed gone all night and not called or texted. Served him right if he worried. Although I highly doubted he’d worry.
“We adapt an ability-centered enrichment approach for each resident and day guest. We believe in a whole-brain-fitness lifestyle, where they not only exercise their body and brain, but they also participate in social activities. If someone suffering from dementia is left without that, their mind goes faster. They lose themselves at a rapid pace. We give their golden years more time, along with a richer experience. A reason to hold on to things and enjoy their moments.”
I listened as she spoke, and the ache in my chest grew with each word. Grams didn’t have reasons to hold on. When her memory was clear, she was often sad. I couldn’t blame her for allowing her mind to go. Especially when the home she’d lived in with my grandfather was falling apart and her son did nothing to help out.
“We have chef-prepared dining with delicious courses that meet all their dietary needs. The things they need to strengthen their bodies and even their minds. There are seven licensed skilled nurses on-site with twenty-four-hour supervision. Daily wellness checks and medication management. We have an on-site fitness center with physical therapists,” she continued.
I stiffened as Amory’s palm touched my lower back, but I didn’t look at him. I didn’t want to look at anyone really. Hearing Shari talk, I felt my heart sink more and more. All the things that my Grams needed, and I’d never even thought about it. Even if I had considered it, I’d never been able to supply it for her.
“We have several brain-fitness programs with a highly trained and dedicated staff. We do small group exercises seven days a week. There is a bird-watching group that goes out every morning after breakfast to the lawn where the bird feeders are located. It’s a favorite activity around here.”
Grams would love that. She loved to look out our back window and watch the birds that came to the bird feeder I’d made for her one year at a vacation Bible school she’d sent me to at her church.
“Would you like to see the activity rooms?” she asked.
“Yes,” I replied, although I was sure this was only going to make it even harder on me. Seeing all that Grams could have. What she could experience instead of being left in front of the television often with no one to talk to.
“I need a moment with Royal,” Amory said.
Shari smiled. “Of course. I’ll be waiting just down there, in the first room on your right. No rush at all.”
“Thank you,” he replied, but I could feel his eyes on me.
I waited until Shari was out of sight before finally looking up at him. I wanted to slap him for this. Showing me all that was available and unaffordable. Dangling this in front of my face, knowing I’d want it, but hating the idea of being charity.
“Stop grinding your pretty teeth,” he scolded me. “I didn’t bring you here to upset you or anger you. I had the resources available, and I wanted to share that with you and your Grams.”
I sucked in a deep breath through my nose. “This can’t be free. And I will not take a handout from you.”
His brows drew together. “This isn’t a handout.”
“Okay, fine. Charity then. It’s … it’s embarrassing enough. My house. My life. Compared to yours.” I felt my eyes sting, and it angered me more. I would not cry. “We’ve been on one date. And you feel so sorry for my pathetic life that you’re pulling strings to get my Grams into some elite … home. Or whatever this is. I just …” I pressed my fingers to my temples and closed my eyes. “I want this for her. And I hate that she has to live the way she does. But at what cost do I get it?”
I dropped my hands and looked back up at him. “I like you, Amory. I do. A lot, okay? But this is new, and we are just getting to know each other. I don’t want you to see me as … some problem or weight on your shoulders. My life isn’t yours to fix. I just want to get to spend time with you.”
He cupped my face and took a step closer to me. “You like me a lot.”
“Is that seriously all you got out of what I just said?”
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “No. I just wanted to clarify.”
I let out a sad laugh. Wishing that, for one day in my life, I could be happy. The entire day. Not have something remind me of the shitty hand I’d been dealt.
“It just so happens that I like you a lot too, Ace. I’ve liked you since I sat in that bar and watched you play an Oscar-worthy game of pool. The more I get to know you, the more I’m around you, the more I fucking like you. Not once”—he stopped and leaned down closer to me, his eyes darkening—“not one time, have I ever considered you a charity case or a problem. I’ve been impressed by how fucking clever and ingenious you are. How you have taken your strengths and found a way to make money with them. You juggle more roles than anyone I know, and you do it like a badass. I don’t see you and think needy or weak. I just have the ability to help you. Help your Grams. I can do that, and I want to. Let me. Please, Royal. Please. Let me do this.”
I sniffled, and he wiped a lone tear that had escaped with the back of his finger. He was very good with words. In just a few sentences, he’d made me feel strong and impressive rather than needy and pathetic.
“Do you promise me this will cost you nothing?” I asked him, still struggling with that. This couldn’t just be free.
“This house—not Haven House and what it does, but the house it is in and the property it sits on,” he said, “my family owns it. Haven House leases it from us.”
I blinked, letting that process.
They owned this house? Why wouldn’t they live in it? What in the world could their house look like if they owned one this incredible that they just leased out?
Again, I was in over my head. This man was a kind of wealthy that had to surpass even Merce’s family.
“You own this house,” I repeated.
He nodded. “Yes. It’s been in our family for over a hundred years.”
So, they weren’t just rich, but they were old-money rich. Well, I was old-money poor, and this was a lot to take in.
“Trust me, Royal.” His tone sounded pleading.
Trust him? I didn’t trust people. I knew better than to do that. Yet I had done nothing but trust this man from almost day one. Okay, week one. Not day one. But still, that was a big deal.
Finally, I nodded.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever really had a choice. He was claiming me at a rapid pace with every action, touch, and word that came out of his mouth.