I can’t fail, not again.
Iwon’tfail.
Not again.
Between a handful of positive articles, the segment on the news, and offering bonuses for residents who referred friends, we’ve managed to reach a 79 percent occupancy rate.So close, but not quite.
While I’ll happily give equal credit to Jan for closing contracts, the reality is, I did the majority of the work. I also made bigger and bigger decisions about the property without her, as she was rarely around. Nerve-racking at first, but, I was really freaking good at it.
Another 6 percent, and Jan would be able to meet the property’s expenses. Ten would give me more confidence that she could maintain the community after I left, but I wasn’t trying to get greedy or move finish lines.
Because if I pulled this off, I could addsuccessfullyrehabbed and managed a senior living community to my resume.
It’s about time to update that and start scattering it across Miami again.
An unexpected pang goes through me, about way more than being out of a job soon, but I bury it deep, as I have more than enough on my plate at the moment. In addition to inviting interested applicants over the age of fifty-five to spend their forever summer at Lakeview, attendees will receive welcome bags I’ve already stuffed with everything besides what’s in the box.
Three days later than the printer promised, naturally.
When I mentioned on my way out the door that they were finally arriving today, Grandma Helen snarked, “I hope everyone’s ready forAssisted Sports Illustrated: Geriatric Edition.”
Don’t get me wrong, I totally laughed at the joke, but I’d worked hard to ensure the calendar wouldn’t turn out that way.
“Like a swimsuit calendar?” Jan had skeptically asked after I posed my idea.
It was an idea so far outside my usual range, even I’m surprised at how certain I was it’d gain the exact type of attention we’re seeking.
What won her over was when I rainbowed my hands and gave our new marketing mantra. “Lakeview Retirement Community, where summer vacation lasts forever!”
Eniola, the owner of Blushing Beauty Photography, fit our rush project into her busy schedule, and the two of us had a blast working on the layout together.
Heart in my throat, I lift out the glossy stapled pages of Lakeview’s very own calendar and flip open to January. Dedicated to new beginnings, the photo atop the page shows several of our residents digging in the flower beds, fabulous gardening hats and gloves in bright colors creating a cheery pop.
February showcases couples who’ve been married for decades, a handful of years, and mere days. They hold giant red balloon hearts and gaze longingly into each other’s features in a way that makes me want a valentine of my own seven months too late.
Easy. I pick Noah.
What ifs circle through my head, about what it might be like if we had enough time to date and see where it leads. The guy enjoyed pushing my buttons and riling me up, yet it made me my wittiest, feistiest self. My truest, more-straightforward and secure-in-myself self.
Not to mention the comfortable contentment I didn’t typically experience until months and months in. But I have no idea where his head’s at, and I have too much to focus on for tonight’s open house to get stuck obsessing about Noah Drayton.
I pause on the month of April with its rhyme about showers that bring May flowers, happiness immediately warming my chest.
The glossy photos from the “Tough Mudder” obstacle course that left everyone caked in mud give me an extra kick of confidence because they proved my gut knew what it was doing.
Several mud-covered bodies and streaked faces fill the background, with the focus on the eighty-two-year-old retired marine at the finish line, victorious expression on her face. It’s impossible not to smile while looking at her, until I’m contemplating running such a race myself, lack of coordination and hatred of being dirty notwithstanding.
The pool picture for July also turned out fabulous, so much splashing and joy I can’t imagine anyone seeing it without wanting to join the party. Bob of the Silver Swingers shows off his golf form in the month of August, and I spot Arlene and her recent love-interest, Bruce, looking extra cute and snuggly in November.
A fight almost broke out between him and Wayne of Shady Tree Lane that afternoon, and between us filling her cup and her hopping dating life, her self-esteem has grown by leaps and bounds.
Right along with mine, so go us.
By the time I reach the final page with December’s dates, I’m relieved to see everything’s in order and I can start stuffing. This calendar is going to be a hit, I can feel it in my bones.
Only time will tell if it’ll be enough to reach 85 percent.
…
