Cathy #2
All the men I meet when I take my kids on their visits to Hilltop are in their seventies or eighties. Not off limits, per se, but not ideal, either.
Stop it. You’re being selfish and thinking of yourself when you need to help Cindy and Lennox.
I flip through my planner, find the number for Hilltop Home, and decide to put it in my phone since it seems like I’ll be coordinating a lot of Team Paws Jr. stuff for the elementary school.
Because I’m one of the young, single teachers with a lot of drive for my school and no one but a little black-and-gray kitty named Iggy waiting for me at home.
“Hilltop Home, how may I help you?” Grace’s sunshine-in-a-bottle voice chirps in my ear.
“Hi! This is Cathy Bainbridge from the elementary school.”
“Yes, hi, Cathy! We’ve got your class scheduled and listed on our daily events board! All of our residents are super excited.”
I smile as I walk to my car, waving to a few other stragglers like myself.
“That’s terrific. I was actually calling about another matter.
I have a friend—well, a friend of a friend—who has an uncle who is blind, but quite independent.
However, he’s looking for a place where meals are offered and people can check in on him.
I think he needs his meds measured out—”
“We don’t do anything with medication, but if your friend is willing to sort out his uncle’s medication on a weekly or daily basis, we do the meals and allow dogs, if he has a service animal,” Grace says, her voice eager.
“But you... you have twelve residents already. And I saw in the paper that you have room ‘for a dozen.’”
“Newspaper math. They write for how things sound, as well as to get the facts across. The fact is, we have fourteen available rooms, with both vacant ones currently being used for storage. We’re getting a handyman to build us a weather-controlled storage shed in the lawn, so with a little juggling and sorting, we could take a new resident in December.
Do you have an email address where I can send your friend some information? ”
I sit in my car, in awe. “You actually have space? That soon?”
“Well, if it’s a good fit. Like I said, if he needs medication and medical care—”
“I don’t think he does, but I’ll give you Cindy’s email, and she can confirm for sure. I imagine it’s pretty expensive...”
I can feel Grace shrugging through the phone, her voice casual.
“We’re income-based. We run like a rental apartment with add-on fees for utilities and meals.
Whatever the uncle’s monthly income is, we would take 33%, since that’s a fair price for housing.
My husband says it would be better to charge 25%, but he’s still learning about inflation.
He has some... uh... old-fashioned financial opinions. ”
“Well, that’s very kind of him, and even your ideas of just taking rent based on income seem old-fashioned.
I feel like a lot of places take pretty much everything a senior has.
” I try to picture Grace’s husband in my mind, as I know I’ve seen him.
He does have an old-fashioned air about him, something imposing but courtly towards others that dissolves into winks and smiles and quarters pulled out of ears when children arrive.
“They have to pay for nurses and staff. We just have ourselves and an ever-growing army of Team Paws volunteers,” Grace laughs.
“You guys are a godsend! Cindy’s going to flip.” I pass on Cindy’s email, and Grace says she’ll send everything right over, but I can’t wait to tell her. The second I hang up, I call Cindy. “I might have solved your problems—and in gratitude, you have to have coffee with me. Okay?”
“What? Spill!”
So I spill.
Cindy gasps. Lennox is in the background, explaining something about change-of-address forms and mail forwarding.
But he sounds excited, not exhausted. Cindy sounds more hopeful, too.
“Let me read the email and help Lennox try to explain things to Marlow. Well, it’s not Marlow, so much, but Earl.
Marlow is street smart, and Earl is just... Well. Earl hates needing help.”
“This place definitely doesn’t make me think of helpless old people. It’s like a bed and breakfast, but with lunch and dinner, too. And options to do things with the community.”
“Well, Earl might like that. He’s always needed a lift when he traveled, so at least that part isn’t new.
Hey. Hey, they don’t have an income limit or fixed rent.
It’s income-based. They could take 33% of Earl’s pension and disability checks—he’d actually have more money in Pine Ridge.
He’s always griping about how Mint Woods didn’t leave him enough for ‘a pot to piss in.’”
“See? Look at that. You didn’t have to go through all twenty nursing homes in Broome County.”
“If this works, we’re naming the baby after you. The middle name. If it’s a girl.”
“I’ll take it!” I squeal. “Sometimes this place just feels magical, doesn’t it?”
There’s a startled sputtering on Cindy’s end, so I think Lennox must’ve goosed her. Lovebirds. I try to sit on the envious feelings that are sparking up again.
“Yeah, Cath. Magical is the word.”