The Time of Her Life

“Especially during the months when it wasn’t buried under six feet of snow.”

He laughed, such a rich sound. Was it possible even his laughter had a hint of the South, too?

They emerged in the front lobby, walking side by side. Security served as nighttime reception and Jay told the man at the desk, “Pete’s on tonight, if you need anything.”

Then they passed through the open doorway, where two furry golden beasts bounded at her, tails wagging, yelping and barking a friendly greeting.

“Hello, guys,” Susanna said in her dog-friendly squeaky voice as they circled her legs, clearly wanting attention. She extended a hand, waited to see how it was received.

The dogs shuffled nearer, half sitting, half standing, vying to get closer to her like two almost-identical twins elbowing each other out of the way. With a laugh, she knelt and gave each a hand, ruffling their chests in a place most dogs loved to be petted, laughing as they preened beneath the attention. “That feels good, guys, doesn’t it? So who are you? You’re so friendly.”

One sharp whistle answered her question. The barking stopped and the dogs bounded toward Jay. But only for an instant before they shot past him toward the facility entrance.

Susanna watched with amusement as Jay rolled his eyes and whistled again, bringing the dogs to a halt in the entrance and the sliding doors that opened drunkenly.

“Come on, you two,” Jay commanded “We’re not going in tonight. It’s too late. You can visit your buddies another day.”

Susanna hadn’t come across any other dogs in the facility and assumed Jay referred to the staff or the residents. Greywacke Lodge had been affiliated with an organization that trained dogs specifically for senior visits, and most residents loved the friendly canines. Judging by the way these two dogs kept glancing at the entrance, looking disappointed if possible, Susanna suspected they enjoyed visits, too.

“Boys, sit,” Jay instructed. “Try to make a good first impression for once.”

Susanna couldn’t imagine these two making any other. They were obviously well trained. “Golden retrievers?”

“Yep. Their names are Butters and Gatsby.”

“Oh, that’s sweet. Butters is younger?”

Jay narrowed a disapproving gaze at the dog that could barely sit still. “How can you tell? His lack of manners?”

True, Butters’s hind end kept popping up, tail thumping wildly before he’d remember he was supposed to be sitting.

“My fault entirely,” Susanna admitted. “How is he supposed to behave when I’m doing the squeaky voice?”

“Yeah, well, he should.” Jay scowled at the dog who’d sidled up against her to be petted again. “They like you.”

She ruffled the soft fur around Butters’s neck. “They’re so friendly, I’m guessing they like everyone.”

“Okay, you like them.”

“I do. My kids had Hershel while they were growing up. He was a golden and Akita mix.”

“Had?”

“Wonderful quality of life until he was fifteen. We still miss him.”

Jay nodded, but she could tell he approved. Something in the twinkle of his deep-green eyes. There didn’t seem to be any artifice with this man, Susanna realized. Professionalism didn’t distance him from saying how he felt or force him to only express the politically correct response.

Yet somehow he was very professional. She’d witnessed that firsthand. A natural leader.

Susanna found that very different, very refreshing from the often tentative diplomacy of corporate-speak.

Jay tossed his jacket over his shoulder. “You ready to head home, boys?”

Both dogs were on their feet instantly, glancing at her as if excited for the company.

“Enjoy your walk. I hope you all have a good night.” Somehow in the artificial light of the lamp, Jay no longer looked like the administrator and owner of The Arbors, but simply a man who’d worked a long day.

“It was a good second day, Susanna. Enjoy your night.” Then he herded the dogs away and headed toward the slope.

Susanna was still watching as they passed beyond the glow of the parking lot lights and vanished into the darkness, warmth growing inside her because of his approval.

* * *

“TWO DAYS, Suze?” Karan Steinberg said incredulously over the phone. “I can’t believe you didn’t call me last night.”

“I’m so sorry. We didn’t leave work until late, and by the time Jay helped me get my bags to the house and I got everything organized, I passed out.”

“Well, forgiven, then. But only if you slept all night. Did you? Don’t lie to me.”

“I would never lie. I can’t believe you’d suggest—”

“I’ll take that to mean no, you didn’t.” Karan’s sigh filtered over the phone. “Suze, what am I going to do with you?”

Susanna leaned back in the chair, a caned oak rocker that was one of a set gracing the gallery in front of her new home, the most picturesque cottage she had ever seen. Though it was dark, the moon illuminated the surrounding forest, and the quiet night sounds reminded her of the sunroom in the home she’d left in New York.

The evenings had once been a special time for her and Skip. After long, busy days. After bedtime stories and tucking in the kids, Susanna would brew a pot of coffee and she and Skip would sit in the sunroom and share the events of their day. For a blissful few moments, they reconnected as a couple to the peaceful night sounds of the conservation lot that bordered their backyard.

“Don’t worry, Karan,” Susanna said, knowing her friend would continue to do precisely that. “I’ll settle down once I get comfortable here. There’s been a lot of travel and a lot of change. Nerves are completely normal.”

“You’re holding up?” Karan asked. “All’s well?”

“So far, so good. I’ve been going nonstop all day at the facility. And I’m here, if not unpacked. I’ll get there when I get there.”

“But you’re happy with the arrangement?”

“I was so relieved when I saw this place I got weepy. Jay must think I’m the biggest idiot.”

“Who’s Jay?” Karan asked.

Karan zeroed in on what she considered most important. Men would always top that list. That had been the way it was in middle school. That was the way it was in middle age.

Not that almost forty was exactly middle age. Not if Susanna planned to live to be a hundred, anyway.

“Jay Canady, owner and property administrator of The Arbors.”

“The man you’ve got to convince to sell the property.”

“One and the same.” A man with a charming smile and melodic voice.