“That won’t be necessary, considering she had no friends or family.”
“I see.” Theresa hid her anger and suspicion. This was far from being over. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”
The receptionist buzzed the main door, signaling it was time for Theresa to leave. She gave a cursory word of thanks and left the building.
The heat was relentless. She considered her options. It was at least a half mile to the security station. She decided to rifle through the vegetation rather than subject herself to more abuse from the heat. She parted the cypress branches and spotted the roundabout, where two people sat under the shade of the gazebo. Theresa crossed the narrow road and walked toward them.
“Well, hello!” Henry called out. “Are you lost?”
Theresa brushed away a few bugs she had disturbed as she rustled through the hedges. “Hi. It depends. Is this where the shuttle bus stops?”
“It is, but it won’t be here for another half hour. You should come sit in the shade. Are you okay?” Henry asked, eyeing her warily.
Theresa realized she must have been quite a sight with leaves tangled in her hair, the small bandage across her nose, and the slight bruise under her eye. “You should see the other guy.” She chuckled, breaking the ice.
Henry opened his soft-pack mini-cooler and handed Theresa a bottle of water. “What brings you here?”
Theresa thanked him and let out a deep breath. “I wish I could say it was my love of desert botanicals, but sadly, it is not.” She took a long pull of the water.
“I’m Henry. This is Frida.”
“Hello, Henry. Frida. I’m Theresa.”
“Do you have family here?” Frida asked.
Theresa twisted her mouth. “Hard to say. IthoughtI had family here.”
“Did they send you to the wrong place?” Frida asked.
“No.” She let out another big sigh. “It’s a long story.”
“We’ve got plenty of time,” Henry encouraged her, and Theresa felt the need to unburden herself with the oddities of the day.
“A few weeks ago, I received a letter from someone who informed me that my estranged aunt was in a nursing home. I say estranged because I never knew her. She was my mother’s sister, who left home when they were teenagers. My mother’s family lost track of her, or she lost track of them. My mom told us about her sister Dottie, and how they had been best buds until Dottie got herself into trouble.”
Frida shot Theresa a look. “What kind of trouble?”
“Oh, no, notthatkind of trouble!” Theresa knew Frida was referring to being pregnant. “At least not according to what my mother knew. She would send an occasional postcard, and a couple of Christmas cards. The postcards came from New Mexico and Arizona, but there was never a return address.” She paused to take another swig of water. “My mom passed away two years ago, and I thought it was my duty to check it out. I flew in from Virginia to see if Dottie needed anything.”
“Were you able to see her?” Frida asked.
“That’s the thing.” Theresa wasn’t sure how many of her concerns she should share without sounding like a complete loon. “When I first arrived, I was turned away because I didn’t have an appointment.”
“Really? I didn’t know you had to do that,” Frida said, frowning.
“This place has some funny rules,” Henry chimed in. “I don’t mean this side of the property, but I’ve heard they don’t make it easy for visitors at the long-term care building.”
“Have you been there?”
“Thankfully, no,” Henry replied.
Theresa leaned closer. “I was there two days in a row. It reminded me of that movieComa.”
“Oh, the one with Michael Douglas and—what’s the French actress’s name?” Frida tapped her middle finger and thumb to gether.
“Geneviève Bujold,” Henry assisted.
“Yes, that’s the one.” Frida nodded. “I always had trouble pronouncing her name.”
