Mack could not think of when she might have come across anyone else in this state, so how was Hailey so sure of herself? He never had been.
“In person she looks so much like Gigi,” Hailey whispered, as if it were a secret. “I never realized.”
Mack had. The soft angles of his mother’s nose, the fullness of her lips, the set of her gray-blue eyes—it was unmistakable. He had always tried not to think of Leonora as Mabel and Gigi’s grandmother, had resisted categorizing her with the sixty- and seventy-something women he’d watched dipping a baby’s toes into the Shoreby pool or holding chubby hands as they walked along the dock. Or cramming little feet into crappy plastic shoes, the way Pammy Byers did. Better not to dwell on what Leonora might have been or done... probably she would have just taught Gigi to swear, or corrupted Mabel’s fledgling musical sensibilities with “Le Freak.”
“Mack? Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Fine.” His voice cracked. “I’m just going to go talk to the manager and see what’s what. Are you all right to stay with her? I don’t know where Tilda is, but she’s always around. I told her we were coming.”
“It’s fine. We’re fine.”
It took Mack ten minutes of wandering up and down washed-out-pastel hallways to find the Sandy Hollow business office, where a woman named Marilyn Murphy was expecting him. He took a seat behind a coffee table covered in binders and brochures; Sandy Hollow had quite the marketing budget. He wondered whether Leonora would ever have chosen the place for herself if she’d been given the option. He guessed Irene Weigand had made the decision; he had no recollection of any of it.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Mr. Evans,” Marilyn said. “I’m sorry our paths haven’t crossed before. I’ve been here almost five years now, but I guess our timings have never matched up. I’ve heard so much about you from Tilda and Irene... Mrs. Weigand.”
Mack nodded. He was aware of being somewhat of a celebrity at Sandy Hollow. Tilda had told him about how the staff still asked after Leonora’s handsome son, even the ones hired in more recent years for whom he was only folklore, the teenager whose mother had suffered a fate worse than death while he was in the middle of rushing fraternities and playing beer pong.
“We’d be so sorry to see Mrs. Evans go,” Marilyn was telling Mack in a hushed voice. “Though I understand if you want her closer to you.”
“Yeah, well, like I said on the phone, it seems I’m taking over her care from the trust—from Mrs. Weigand.” He suddenly felt embarrassed, a cheapskate whose free cable trial had long since run out.
“Yes, she’s informed us of the changes. I’ve got a lot of your details on the emergency contact sheet, so we can set up the billing today, if that works for you.”
“The thing is,” Mack told her, “You see,the thing is, I hadn’t really been aware of the situation.”
“The situation?”
“With my mother’s finances. I didn’t know Irene Weigand was paying for her. Or that she might stop paying for her.”
“I see. That must have come as quite a shock.”
“Shock doesn’t cover it. I’m just wondering if there is federal funding we can access—Medicaid or Medicare, or something we can apply for? I really don’t want to move her from here, but I’m not sure quite what to do.”
Mack had secretly hoped that doing this in person might make his plea more convincing, but he could not find much comfort in Marilyn’s face.
“We can get the ball rolling to try to get some supplementary funds, certainly,” she said after a minute. “Though I must tell you that most of our residents are self-paying; we’re not really a Medicaid-type facility. In the meantime, why don’t we set up a meeting with Mrs. Weigand, and let her know your concerns?”
“Umm, yeah, if we have time.” Mack felt coldly ruthless toward Irene Weigand, if he was being honest with himself. It felt like she was punishing him for not being a mind reader, and he kind of hated her for it.
“Are the two of you close?”
“Not really. She just did me—did us—a huge kindness. I mean, beyond huge. Colossal.”
“Well, I’m sure she’ll want to work this out too, so let’s don’t go and panic. Let’s not make any rash decisions about your mother’s care just yet.”
Mack wondered whether Marilyn would still be saying this when there was a stack of unpaid bills in front of her. Could Sandy Hollow just throw his mother out? Call the state to come get her? Was he even legally responsible for Leonora? Hailey would know. But hopefully—somehow—it wouldn’t come to that.
“I wonder,” Mack said carefully, “whether my mother may have received any correspondence from a company called Sunshine Enterprises?”
“I’m not sure.” Marilyn frowned. “What kind of company is it?”
How could Mack explain that he had no idea what kind of company Sunshine Enterprises was? Or whether it was a real company at all? But Marilyn didn’t wait for an answer.
“I don’t think your mom gets very much mail, Mr. Evans. She’s been here so very long, you know...”
“Right, of course,” Mack said. “And this trust that took care of my mom’s bills, did it have, like, an official name?”
“It’s in your mother’s name.” Marilyn got to her feet. “And as I mentioned on the phone, I do have some paperwork that belongs to Leonora. I’ve taken the liberty of getting it out of storage, and I can give this to you to take now, if you want? The files passed from her lawyer when he retired... tax forms, I think mostly. I don’t recall any recent mail being in there, but you never know.”
