1
Wes Brenner satin the passenger seat of his grandson, Justin’s, SUV, scanning through the Sirius XM radiostations.
“If I have to listen to Mariah Carey one more time, I’m going to lose my goddamnmind.”
“How much time have you spent around Heather? Do you actually think that’s who’ssinging?”
“Yes, that’s who it is. You can’t tell me anydifferent.”
Justin shook his head. “You’re a liar. You know that’s not right. What’s hername?”
Wes couldn’t help but grin. “Are you testing to make sure I’m not losing my mind? It’s been two years, and I was in the hospital, not anasylum.”
“It’s Ariana Grande, Pops. ArianaGrande.”
“When you’ve lived as long as I have, you’ll understand why it doesn’t matter if it’s Ariana Grande or MariahCarey.”
“And why isthat?”
“Because neither of them can evertouch—”
“Aretha, I know,” Justin said, grinning ear to ear. He shook his head, like he realized he’d walked right into thatone.
They continued down the interstate for some time before Justin pulled off at an exit. The road wound through a series of hills, and after they rounded a particularly sharp corner, the trees thinned out as the scene of ivory stucco townhouses and two matching apartment towers came into view, positioned between the thick forest the compound had been carved into and a large pond with a couple of geese traveling side by side. Acres of trimmed, well-maintained, ferns and lush green grass surrounded the property. Beyond the townhomes and apartments, a golf course stretched across the hilly terrain, carts making their way to andfro.
The elaborate course was one of the perks listed in the brochure, a major selling point in Wes’s first tour of Heathrow Estates—which had its name in big bold letters over the main entryway beside the securitystation.
Justin stopped the car at the check-in point and handed his driver’s license and Wes’s paperwork over to the on-duty securityguard.
Wes studied his new community, wondering what this next chapter of his life held in store for him. This wasn’t the two-story home in Glendale, California, where Wes had spent much of his life, up until nearly two years earlier when his heart attack had sent him to the hospital and then a lengthy stay with Justin and his family. As much as he’d enjoyed spending time with them, he was ready to be independent again, yet at the same time, since his heart attack, the idea of being on his own wasn’t something he was all that eager about. However, when Justin showed him the various perks of this particular community, just a couple of hours from Justin’s home in Winebourne, Georgia, it seemed like the perfect opportunity, and with the money Wes had set aside for his retirement, he had more than enough to be able to live out the remainder of his life comfortably. Even better, at Heathrow Estates he had the chance to meet some friends his own age, something that had become increasingly difficult back in his little neighborhood in Glendale, and even more so during the time he’d stayed with his grandson’sfamily.
Once inside the retirement community, Justin found parking in the main garage, and he and Wes headed into the clinic for his first visit, a necessary part of hisregistration.
“We need you to fill out a few quick forms,” the receptionist said, handing Justin a large bluetablet.
“I can do this for you,” Justinoffered.
“I can do it just fine, thank you very much,” Wes insisted, snatching the tablet fromhim.
Not that he would’ve minded letting Justin fill everything out. It would have been a hell of a lot faster that way, but Wes prided himself in being able to care for himself. He may have been in his late seventies, but he wasn’tincapable.
Wes attempted to use the tablet, but he figured out early on the screen wasn’t working properly by how he couldn’t change anything even as he mashed down on the correctbuttons.
“Goddamn thing is broken,” hesaid.
“It’s not broken, I’msure.”
Wes turned to Justin, offering a cross look. Wes never appreciated the assumption that if he didn’t understand something, it must somehow be his fault. Admittedly, sometimes that was the case, but when it wasn’t, it pissed himoff.
He handed the tablet to Justin. “Go ahead. You just show me how well itworks.”
After a moment of attempting to fill it out for Wes, Justin chuckled. “Well, guess you were right,Pops.”
“Usually am,” Wes said in a less than forgivingtone.
The receptionist exchanged the tablet for another, and Wes tried again, taking a good twenty minutes before he completed all the necessary paperwork, figuring it was something that would have taken his grandson five to ten minutes to figure out. But he prided himself in being able to handle ithimself.
He was still perfectly capable of managing his own affairs, and he’d learned that at his age, the moment he conceded needing a little help, those around him, even those who cared a great deal, felt that meant he was totally incapable or essentially dependent onothers.
