Jacqueline’s eyes go wide and she pushes away from thetable, phone in hand, as Stella comes wildly into the dining room. She’s wearing a bright blue kaftan with a gray shawl around her shoulders. In place of the composed and sophisticated woman I met three days ago stands a woman with fire in her eyes and hair askew.
“There you are!” she sneers at her assistant. “I have been waiting for you for forty-five minutes. We can’t miss this plane—Nicholas is waiting for us at home!”
Jacqueline doesn’t appear frazzled by her employer’s behavior. She turns to the nurse who’s rushing after Stella, calmly placing her hand on Stella’s shoulders. Stella bumps it off with a hostile glare and the nurse sighs.
“Have you called Max?” Jacqueline asks the nurse softly.
“Five minutes ago. He’s on his way,” the nurse responds.
“When did this start?”
“Right after you left her. She was getting herself ready and I was giving her meds when she?—”
“I told you I don’t need meds. I’m healthy as a horse.” Stella lifts her chin in defiance. “Jacqueline! Nicholas expects us home by dinner. I have my meeting tomorrow at the country club with the event planners. Have you arranged the menu for the gala yet?”
We watch the interaction between Jacqueline and Stella and something’s wrong. Not just wrong but it’s clear we are intruding. I’m about to tell Callie we should go and give them privacy when Max strides into the room, immediately going to his grandma. He’s in his P.E. joggers and hoodie, worry etched on his face. She takes one look at him and breaks into an arrogant smile.
“And there he is. My only grandson. Finally break away from playing your little game and chasing pretty tail to come visit ol’ Stella?” She waves him away and his face pinchesbriefly before going stoic again. “Well, you’re too late! I finally found Jacqueline! She’s been hiding from me, but we are about to get on the plane and head home. Your grandfather and I have dinner reservations tonight at Melvyn’s and I want to get back in time to change and fix my hair.”
Max reaches out to take Stella’s hand, wrapping it softly in his, and leads her to an accent chair close by. Everybody gives him space as he sits her down and takes a knee, placing himself in front of her.
She rolls her eyes and huffs out, “I don’t have time for this, Maxford.”
“Hey, Grandma,” he says, gently. His face goes soft as he puts his other hand on her leg. “I’m here.”
They stay that way for a full minute, quietly watching one another, before Stella’s face releases the tension it’s been holding and confusion clouds her eyes. When she speaks, her voice sounds tiny and scared. “Maxford?”
He gives her a small smile and squeezes her hand. “Yes, Grandma, it’s me, Max. I’ve got you, okay?”
“Where are your sisters? Why aren’t they here?”
“They’re in L.A. and Vienna. That’s where they work.” His voice is smooth and patient, like this is information they’ve gone over many times.
“Oh.” She wrinkles her brow. “Where’s your grandfather?”
Max’s face falls a little. “Grandma, he passed away five years ago.”
“Hm” is all she says. It’s at that moment she notices her surroundings and looks around. “Where am I? This isn’t Palm Springs.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “You live in Boise, Idaho, now.” His voice is still soft and slow, trying to soothe his distressedgrandmother. “You live across the hall from Opal. Remember her?”
“How could I forget my best friend?” she says with oomph in her voice again.
“Opal’s at the doctor’s right now but she’ll be back in a little bit, okay? I’ll stay with you as long as you need.” He adjusts how he’s kneeling and she takes that moment to glance around again.
“Maxford,” she says, her voice wobbling.
“Yes?”
“Who’s that? Why does she seem familiar?” She looks at me and he follows her gaze. That’s when he realizes I’ve witnessed everything that’s just happened. Like a deer in headlights, he doesn’t look away. Doesn’t blink. Doesn’t breathe. Stella scrunches her face, tying her thoughts together before asking, “Are you two in love?”
9
MAXFORD
It takes longer than last time for Stella to baseline. I’m able to talk her into heading back to her room, where I jump into our routine for episodes like this. The blinds are pulled up to let the sunlight in and Roy Orbison’s last hit plays on the Bluetooth speaker. Stella sits in her favorite armchair that I’d arranged to move with her from Palm Springs. It’s a rich cocoa leather mid-century piece that has seen better days. I begged her to let me buy her something new when we got to town, but she insisted it make the trek. Seeing her sit on the edge of the seat and sway back and forth to “You Got It” with her eyes closed, looking the most relaxed she has since I arrived this afternoon, lets me know she’s nearly back to herself.
When Opal returns to the assisted living center, she walks into Stella’s room hidden behind an armful of flowers. I’ve already pulled out the folding tables from the closet and she places the bundles down across them before collecting the box of small vases from under the sink in the kitchenette.
