“You and I have a date in about thirty minutes, Loraine.”
“I’m quite aware. And as exciting as it is to have a stalker, whether I come is up to me, Dr. Knightley.”
“I’m a physician assistant. You can just call me George.”
Loraine waved away his answer as if it were a bad smell in the room. “I’ll call you what I like. How often is that overseeing doctor actually there?”
Pretty much never, but they were getting off topic. “It’s true, nobody is forcing you to come, but maybe we could help each other out. George, over there, was telling me he’s not a fan of these yoga balls they’re handing out. I was thinking of using my influence to get some better prizes. Any suggestions?”
Loraine raised an eyebrow at him. “An all-expense paid trip to Fiji.”
“Come on, Loraine. You know I’m not above bribery, but we have to stay in the realm of possibility here. What about the Friday afternoon dances? I hear they keep playing the same Beach Boys album because that’s what the DJ likes. Is that true?”
“Yes. Beach Boys and the Four Seasons, week after week. Personally, I’d love a little Lionel Richie or Barry Manilow. Is that too much to ask? But no one listens to me.”
“I’m listening.”
Loraine shook her head while she placed another chip. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m not dancing. I go because I like to watch the other fools.”
“Are you wearing the compression socks we talked about?”
She lifted up her pant leg in answer. “Yes, I am. And if I’m hearing you right, we have a deal. Promise me you’ll change up the music, and I’ll show up for my appointment today. Now buzz off while I win one of these yoga balls so I can send it to my granddaughter.”
***
Emma had interviewed four people in one morning and knew there was zero chance she’d hire any of them. And that was before they had to pass Granddad’s exacting scrutiny. Everything felt hopeless.
They weren’t even trying to find a live-in nurse, just someone who could come weekdays and spend time with him. His anxiety was manageable with medication and someone there to rely on. Hiring someone with a handle on basic household chores would be a big bonus. Emma winced at the thought of her incompetence.
An early morning attempt to master ironing had ended with disaster. That shirt was hidden in the outside garbage, followed by a frantic run to the dry cleaners where she paid extra for same day service. She’d have to sneak out later and pick them up, discard the plastic covering, and take off all the tags.
Granddad could never know his clothes went to another location to be pressed. The horror. Years ago, a dry cleaner had lost a pair of his pants, and ever since, he had no trust in the business.
As a personal shopper, Emma worked with fussy people on a daily basis. Makeovers came with a lot of personal baggage and expectations. But none of her clients came close to Granddad. Emma felt like she was only beginning to see the tip of the iceberg of what Taylor had done for him.
Two more nurses were interviewing after lunch, and Emma looked over their resumes while she unpackaged the takeout sandwiches she was trying to disguise as homemade. Granddad wouldn’t be fooled, but she hoped he would be placated by seeing it arranged on his usual plate with his usual silverware.
Her phone on the counter buzzed with a text, and she quickly brought Granddad his food at the dining table before running back into the kitchen to check it. Her clients knew she was taking some personal time, but that didn’t mean she wanted to ignore any new requests they might have.
How’s the matchmaking going?
Oh, it was only George. Her shoulders relaxed, and she leaned against the counter as she gave a tired little laugh.
Great. You reminded me to get started on it. I’d almost forgotten.
The fate of most of your grand ideas, unfortunately.
Not this one. I can guarantee it. So, know of any nice old ladies who are great at ironing and cooking and want to talk to Granddad all day?
Oh, Emma. Hang in there.
His answer was like a hug through her phone. Working at a large retirement community all day, George knew better than anyone how she felt. But he was never patronizing about it.
“Emma, aren’t you going to eat something?” Granddad called.
“Yep. I’ll be right out.”
She quickly texted back:You up for a couple more episodes of Cooking with Strangers tonight?
