Chapter Thirty
Rock rose: A hearty, flowering shrub profusely laden with papery blossoms whose warm, amber scent strengthens resilience
When I step into the Oceanview Home the next day, the air once again smells of sugar and vanilla. Even Gully seems relieved by this, trotting forward confidently as the door to the home swings shut behind us.
“Oh, Lucy,” Noreen says when she sees me. “I’m so glad you’re here. Everyone is gathering on the terrace.”
We walk together into the sunroom.
“What are those?” I ask. Hanging from the wall, there are a number of small black devices.
Noreen pulls a face and explains that the lock has finally been fixed on the doors.
“But Jill has come up with a plan,” she goes on.
“A staff member can unlock the terrace doors and, ideally, accompany any resident who goes outside. If a resident wants to walk outside without a companion, they take one of these wearable medical alert devices.”
I feel a pang at learning this news. Mr. Fitz likes to be alone, and I suspect he will bristle at the thought of wearing a device that tracks his movement. But, in the end, I suppose it’s a small price to pay. I just hope he will see it that way.
“This is Jill’s plan?” I ask. “I thought she was suspended.”
“She has her ways,” Noreen says with a wink. Then, as she holds a card up to a sensor and the doors open, she whispers, almost gleefully, “She’s here, actually.”
Noreen is right: absolutely everyone is on the terrace. Even Mr. Fitz is here, though he’s off in a corner, alone. Instead of black, everyone is wearing color, and the air is soft with the warm, enveloping scent of rock roses.
Marjorie spots me and hurries over to give me a hug. She is dressed head to toe in red, including her glasses. “I’m glad you’re here,” she says, and squeezes my hands. She walks me to a seat next to Louis, who smiles at me. Gully settles at my feet.
Marjorie stands before us all, the garden spread behind her, and speaks to us about Cynthia.
She talks about Cynthia’s career, her many causes, her sense of humor, her mischief.
Her words are moving, but also very, very funny, and I’m relieved to see her spirit has not diminished. If anything, it might have grown.
When she finishes, we all sit in silence for several minutes. No, not silence—the birds go on singing; a breeze stirs the flowers; in the distance, waves crash against the shore.
When I breathe in, the strong, sweet scent of honeysuckle races toward me, through me, whispering of courage, of family, of love. Of Cynthia.
“Almond bear claw?” Adele asks, sliding a plate with a gleaming, golden pastry across the table. We are all still gathered on the terrace, but now there are pastries and bowls of fruit and pitchers of lemonade on each table.
Vikram scoops a spoonful of bright berries onto my plate and passes me a fork. “We were so worried when we didn’t see you in the gardens,” he tells me.
Louis strokes Gully’s ears and they gaze adoringly at each other. “You, too, young man,” Louis tells him. “Good to have you both back.”
“It’s good to be back,” I assure him.
“Does that mean you’re staying?” Adele asks. “Please say it does.”
I think of Cynthia, and the scent of honeysuckle. The feeling of determination instilled by my mother’s painting thrums within me. I think of the work that I still need to do in the California garden to have it ready by Friday. Is there enough time? There might be, if I start today.
“Yes. I’m staying,” I say, and everyone exhales.
“Then let’s get down to business,” Marjorie says. She’s armed with Cynthia’s clipboard now, and she points a pen at me. “Did you put the flyers up around town?”
I tell her that I did, and she runs her pen through a line on her clipboard.
“How are sales?” she asks, turning her attention to Louis.
“Katie says they’re strong.”
“So this really might work?” Vikram asks.
We all fall quiet.
“It will be a hell of a party,” Marjorie says at last. “If nothing else.”