Читать книгу: «Western Christmas Wishes», страница 2

Chapter Two

“How long are you staying?” the girl in the passenger seat asked without looking at Laurel.

“A week or two.”

“Figures.”

Laurel kept driving, looking for the turn before the bridge that Cameron Hunt had mentioned. “What does that mean?”

“Aunt Gladys said you wouldn’t stay long because the past hurts too much. Or something like that. But I think the past shouldn’t be as important as your grandmother. Or maybe you should deal with the past and move on.”

Laurel spotted her turn and hit her turn signal. “How old are you?”

“Thirteen.” A mew from inside her pocket punctuated the sentence.

“Thirteen and you’re a self-designated life coach?”

“Nope, I just know stuff. I’ve lived a lot of life in thirteen years.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure you don’t know as much as you think you do. I’m not sure what your problem is, but you can’t sit there and diagnose my life.” Laurel sighed. She was arguing with a kid.

From the passenger seat, Rose whispered something to the kitten in her pocket.

“What?” Laurel asked, softening her tone.

“You asked what my problem is. A lot of things. I’m difficult, dysfunctional, dyslexic and a lot of other D words. Some of them I can’t repeat because my mother had a colorful way with words that Aunt Gladys doesn’t appreciate.” Her tone was dry but there was a brief flicker of pain that Laurel couldn’t miss.

“I’m sorry,” Laurel said. “Is this the right way?”

It definitely didn’t look like the right way and her phone didn’t have a signal, so there was no GPS.

“I don’t think so.”

“Rose, maybe you could give me directions?” she said as she pulled over, just as a red truck drove by. “I’m sure you’ve visited Gladys and know how to get there. And why do you have a kitten in your pocket?”

Rose grinned and pulled the kitten from her coat. “I’ve never had a pet.”

“You can’t just take a kitten. It might need to be with its mother.”

“It’s six weeks old. They’re ready to be weaned. That’s what Cameron said last week. If Gladys won’t let me keep it, I’ll take it back to the mama cat. But I’m going to tell Gladys I got it for her. She won’t turn away a gift.”

“You think that’ll work?”

Rose shrugged. “Worth a shot.”

“Good luck with that. Now, how do I get to the nursing home?”

“You’re on the right road. It looks like a driveway but it really is a road.”

“Thank you.”

She put the car in Drive and continued on down the road. As they rounded a bend, she saw the red truck ahead of them.

“That’s Cam’s truck,” Rose informed her.

“Is it?”

“Yeah, he must have worried that I would get you lost. He acts all grouchy and tough but he’s really okay.”

“Good to know.”

“Pretty cute, too. If you just look at the side without the scars.”

“I’m not interested,” Laurel informed the teen.

“Right, because you’re getting over a bad breakup and you resent men because you never knew your father. I didn’t know mine, either, but I don’t plan on being single my whole life. I want a husband and kids, a good job, the whole package.”

Laurel blinked. “You’re a bit of a mess.”

“Yeah, well, my mom is your second cousin, Tarin. She’s not exactly a role model.”

“Where is she these days?” Laurel asked as the brick facility came into view.

“Tarin? Who knows? We were living with a friend of hers in Grove and she took off one night, left me sleeping on their couch. After a few days they called Family Services because I’m not their responsibility. DFS found Gladys and she took me in. My grandmother was Gladys’s sister. She passed away years ago.”

Laurel had to give it to the girl—she was an optimist. Laurel thought about romance in terms of the father she’d never known because he’d failed to tell her mother he was engaged to someone else. He’d dated her mother on summer break, but his fiancée was the woman he’d met in college.

“You don’t know why your mom left?” Laurel asked as she parked.

“Who knows? She’s an addict. Aunt Gladys says everyone’s an addict these days and who knows what society is coming to. Anyway, Tarin’s a rotten mom and a horrible person.”

“She’s an addict, Rose. She probably didn’t plan for that to happen. Sometimes it happens to really good people.”

“Yeah, I guess. She told me one time that she was a straight-A student until her junior year, when she fell in with the wrong crowd. One time, one wrong friend, and her whole life changed. I guess I kind of wonder why she doesn’t just change it back.”

Easier said than done, Laurel thought. But she didn’t say it out loud. She’d lost friends to addictions. Knew the devastation it could do to a family. She cleared her throat and moved on, because Rose had a shimmer of moisture in her eyes.

“Hey, there’s Cam.” Rose opened her door to get out.

Laurel let her go. She knew about deflecting, about changing subjects and trying hard not to let things hurt.

Cameron Hunt waited on the sidewalk in front of the nursing home. Laurel took her time getting out of her car. She wasn’t quite ready for this visit. It had been too long since she’d seen her grandmother. Gladys had visited Chicago but her last visit had been for Laurel’s college graduation, just over eight years ago. Laurel’s mom had visited Hope but Laurel had avoided the town that held too many bad memories.

She’d been a small-town girl whose mom had made a mistake. She knew all about gossip, whispers and dirty looks. Her mom had never told anyone the name of the father of her child. She’d said it didn’t matter. But it must have mattered to her, because she’d never married.

“You made it,” Cameron said as she got out, joining him on the sidewalk.

Rose was ahead of them, nearly to the front door of the facility. Laurel let the girl go because she obviously knew her way and hopefully couldn’t get into trouble between here and there.

The man walking next to her switched sides, giving her the unscarred side of his face. She started to tell him it wasn’t necessary, but she didn’t know him well enough to tell him what was or wasn’t necessary.

“We made it. I was afraid she would purposely get me lost.”

“Your fears were well-grounded,” he agreed with a grim look. “I headed this way shortly after you left with Rose, to make sure you found the place. And yet, I beat you here. That must have been you pulled over on the side of the road.”

The gesture of kindness surprised her. From the look on his face, it surprised him, as well. He obviously hadn’t meant to get involved. After knowing Rose for less than two hours, she could see how the girl would drag someone in, not giving them the opportunity to decide if they wanted to be involved or not.

They were close to the entrance when the door opened and a man exited. Laurel glanced his way, but then she took a longer look as he stopped to talk to Rose. He was tall with dark auburn hair and hazel eyes. Laurel hesitated as the world seemed to spin a little too fast.

“You okay?” Cameron Hunt asked.

She watched as the man, a stranger, turned toward her. He saw her and his smile faltered. He drew in a breath and seemed to hold it.

“I’m good,” she lied. “Please go inside with Rose.”

She could be wrong, she told herself. He was a stranger with hair a darker shade of red than her own. It meant nothing. The way he looked at her meant nothing.

“I think I should stay here with you.” Cameron’s hand was on her arm, steadying her. She thought she didn’t need to be steadied but realized that her legs were weak and the world had faded a little. She shook her head to clear the strange fuzziness.

“Laurel?” Cameron’s voice seemed to come from far away. And then Rose was next to her, staring at her, looking concerned.

“I’m okay,” she assured them.

But she wasn’t. The man who had left her mom to be a single mother, the man she’d spent her life resenting, was standing in front of her.

After all of these years of wondering, it had been this simple. The two of them on a sidewalk, instantly recognizing one another. That he was here brought up questions, but those questions weren’t for him. They were for her grandmother.

Cameron and Rose disappeared into the building. She stared at the man who had given her red hair and fair skin that burned too easily in the sun. She didn’t even know his name.

Her own father and she couldn’t call him by name. She didn’t know his age, where he lived, what he did for a living. A small voice inside her told her that her mother shared some of the blame for her lack of information regarding her father.

“What are you doing here?” She asked the first question that came to her mind.

He seemed surprised by it.

“I was visiting my mother,” he said simply, gently. “I guess I should introduce myself.”

“You’re about thirty years too late for that.” She shifted her gaze away from him, from the sympathy in his expression. A wreath hung on the door of the nursing home, a sign of the coming holidays. Thirty Christmases. Missed.

“Yes, I know.” He reached out to her but let his hand drop before touching her. “Your grandmother called me to let me know you’d be in town. She thought that perhaps this would be a good time for us to meet.”

“I doubt she meant like this, on the sidewalk, with no one to introduce us.”

“No, I’m sure this isn’t what she intended.” He looked around, as if trying to think of a better plan. It was too late. “We could sit down and talk.”

“I don’t think so.” For years she’d rehearsed what she would say and do if she ever met him. When she’d been younger, she’d dreamed of him walking through the front door and being everything a little girl wanted a daddy to be.

As a teenager those dreams had turned to anger and resentment.

Anger was easier to deal with than disappointment. Anger worked as a shield to keep her heart safe.

He studied her, as if he knew the direction her thoughts had taken.

“Maybe you could think about it and if you change your mind, you can call me. Gladys has my number.”

She shook her head. “I have to go inside. My grandmother is expecting me.”

He seemed to want to say more, but when she shook her head, he didn’t. “I’ll leave you for now, but I’ll be waiting. I’m praying for you, Laurel.”

The words stopped her. Her hand was on the door and she needed to go inside. Rather than saying something she couldn’t take back later, she hit the buzzer and waited for the door to unlock. She walked inside, aware that he was still there, watching her walk away.

Ten steps into the building, Cameron Hunt appeared in front of her. She looked up, focusing on the ceiling because she didn’t want to cry, not in front of this man, a virtual stranger. She didn’t want to cry period.

“You okay?”

She lowered her gaze from the ceiling to the man standing just feet away from her. His expression remained impassive. He didn’t want to be involved. And yet here he was.

“I’m good,” she assured him, although it didn’t feel like the truth. “Did we lose Rose?”

“She’s with Gladys.” He surprised her by grabbing a box of tissues from a nearby table. “Take a minute. They’ll be fine on their own. Hopefully.”

She started to object—to the tissues, to taking a moment—but she knew he was right. She took his offering and leaned against the wall as she pulled herself together.

He stood next to her, his back against the paneled wall. His nearness provided an odd sense of comfort, as if he was an ally. It didn’t make sense but she wasn’t questioning it, not right now when she desperately needed a calming influence.

His presence was the furthest thing from calming. He smelled like mountains and Oklahoma. His boots were dusty and worn. He’d placed himself so that the eye patch and scarred side of his face weren’t what she saw when she looked up at him.

The moment was cut short by raised voices and some sort of ruckus.

“Uh-oh,” she said as she pushed away from the wall. “That can’t be good.”

“Doesn’t sound that way,” he agreed. “Time to intervene. I should have known that the two of them couldn’t stay out of trouble.”

“It might be someone else.”

He turned his head to peer at her with that one startling blue eye. A flash of humor flickered for an instant. “That is wishful thinking.”

“I suppose you’re right.” She tossed the tissue in a wastebasket. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For insisting I take a minute to get it together.” She hesitated. “Do you know him?”

He pushed back his cowboy hat and gave her a thoughtful look. “You don’t know him?”

“I think I know who he is, but I don’t know his name.”

“Curt Jackson. Local rancher. He just moved back to the area six months ago. His father passed away and his mother couldn’t handle the ranch on her own.”

Curt Jackson. Thirty years of wondering had come down to this. Suddenly, the ruckus from down the hall grew louder.

“This way.” Cameron motioned her forward, his hand just barely skimming her back as he moved her in the right direction.

Seconds later they entered a large room where a variety of people had gathered: staff in scrubs, residents, some standing, some sitting, and a woman at the center who seemed to be in charge of the chaos. She was tall, dressed in a skirt and jacket, her hair pulled back in a tight bun.

The man facing her wore a jogging suit of light gray, the same color as his thinning hair. He was pointing at her with a gnarled finger.

“Are you telling me we can’t have a Christmas tree?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Clyburn, but the new owner said there will be no Christmas tree in the common area. It isn’t my rule, it’s the rule of the management.”

“Oh, fiddlesticks, Dora, you’ve been here long enough. You could fight for us.”

“I can’t fight this. No Christmas tree. Jeremy will take it back to storage.” She looked around at the group that had gathered. “I am sorry.”

The gentleman in the jogging suit shook his head. “Oh, Dora, what in the world are you thinking? There are folks here who have next to nothing and no family to bring them gifts.”

“My hands are tied.” She nodded at a man in gray coveralls who had a perplexed look on his face. “Jeremy, please take the tree and decorations back to storage.”

The gentleman in the gray jogging suit sat down at a nearby table. “It’s a tree. You put lights on it and shiny things.”

“Mr. Clyburn, you have to understand, this is not my rule. There will be no religious celebrations anymore, per the new owner.”

“There’s little enough cheer in this place without you taking it all away.” An older woman with curly gray hair and a determined look stepped forward, Rose at her side.

Laurel’s grandmother. Gladys Adams hadn’t seemed to age. Other than her arm in a sling, she was as spry as ever and obviously as willing to take on the administrator as she was the horse that had thrown her.

“You will still have Christmas dinner.” Dora made the announcement, turning right and left so that the dozen people gathered in the room heard her.

“A dinner made of government commodities that they spend almost nothing to purchase,” Gladys protested with a grim look of determination.

“Gladys,” Dora responded, “it appears you have company.”

Laurel smiled and waved at her grandmother.

“That I do,” Gladys replied. “And since I’m just here for physical therapy, I’ll be going home soon. The rest of these poor souls have to suffer through your tight budget.”

Gladys hurried over to Laurel, hugged her tightly and then allowed herself to be led from the room.

“That didn’t sound good, Gran,” Laurel observed.

“They’re stealing Christmas,” Rose chimed in.

“That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?” Cameron asked as he came up behind them.

Rose shot him a look. “Of course it is, but I’m all about the D’s.”

He looked perplexed and Laurel found herself smiling, because she knew about the D’s. Her grandmother’s hand on her arm made her feel better than she’d felt in weeks. Since her bakery had failed, then she’d learned the man she’d been dating was also dating another woman, upheaval seemed to be too calm a word to describe how her life had felt.

For a moment she forgot that a man named Curt Jackson existed and he was more than likely her father. Somehow her quick trip to Hope, a needed visit with her grandmother, had turned more than a little bit complicated.

Cameron Hunt stepped around her, pushing open the door to her grandmother’s room. He made quick eye contact with her and she smiled. She would leave in a couple weeks but he would always fill a space in her memories. He’d been the person with her when she met her father for the first time.

Not her mother. Not her grandmother.

This man.

Chapter Three

Cameron stood there awkwardly, watching as Gladys looked her granddaughter over. He should leave. He couldn’t even explain why he’d decided to visit today, other than to make sure Laurel and Rose got here safely. Not that they’d needed an escort.

He had things to do. He was building a house. He had horses that needed working while the weather was good. He didn’t need to be involved in this reunion. He lived in Hope because the town was peaceful, and he was in need of peace.

“Who is Curt Jackson?” Laurel’s question jerked him back to the present. He looked from the younger woman to her grandmother.

Of course, Gladys didn’t look shaken. If she could take on a half-broke horse, she could handle a question like that. But then Rose pulled the kitten out from her pocket. Gladys noticed the animal and her eyes widened.

“Is that one of Cam’s kittens?” Gladys asked.

Rose immediately put the kitten back in her pocket. “What kitten?”

“I can promise you, young lady, my vision is very good.”

Cameron put a hand on Rose’s back and gave her a little nudge toward the door. “Let’s go find the vending machine.”

“Thank you, Cam.” Gladys gave him a winning smile.

“Hey, what’s up with that?” Rose asked as he guided her down the hallway. “I wanted to visit with Gladys, too.”

“I’ll buy you a candy bar.” He had a suspicion Laurel needed to talk to her grandmother about more than her stay in the nursing home.

“Is that a bribe?”

“It is,” he answered.

“It’s wrong for them to take away the tree and gifts from these people,” Rose told him as they entered the lounge with the vending machines. “I don’t think it’s about Christmas. I think they’re just being cheap.”

“I would agree.” His guess was that the new owners planned to flip the business and wanted to cut corners and increase profit to make it look like a good investment.

Rose glanced at him after perusing the selection in the vending machine. “We have to do something.”

“Not my place,” he answered.

“I’ll have to come up with my own plan, then.” She held her hand out. “Dollar please.”

He handed over the money and tried not to worry about Rose coming up with a plan.

“Do you think she’s pretty?” she asked.

“Who? Dora?” He pretended ignorance.

“Good try.”

“I think she’s none of my business,” he told the teen. He looked at his watch. “And I have to go.”

“Chicken,” the girl clucked.

He refrained from rolling his eyes—something a grown man shouldn’t even think of doing. “I’m not going to respond to that. I have an appointment with my contractor.”

He ignored the look she gave him. He wasn’t chicken, he just needed his space. He needed his horses, a few head of cattle and no awkward looks as people pretended they weren’t staring, weren’t wondering what had happened to him.

“What about Gladys?” Rose continued, following him down the hall.

“What about her?”

“She has to stay here for twenty days. They’ll ruin her Christmas.”

“Rose, Gladys isn’t going to be here at Christmas. I know Gladys and she’ll be done with this place before then.”

“She can’t just leave, can she? It’s like prison. When they put a person in a place like this, they lose their freedom. The doors are locked. Didn’t you notice the doors are locked? You’re a lawyer, you know how these things work.”

“I have a law degree. But I’m not a lawyer.”

“Yeah, yeah, your face, and all of that. But you know how it works. Legally they can keep people here.”

The girl was truly frightened. He could see it in her eyes. She might try to act like life was all fun and games, but Rose had been through some hard times. Gladys was probably the first properly functioning adult in her young life and she was giving Rose a first taste of a normal and safe home.

“Gladys is here voluntarily. It’s a twenty-day program to help her with physical therapy and to regain full use of her arm and shoulder.”

“So she can leave? She’ll come home?” Rose stood in front of the door, not allowing him to leave. “I won’t have to go to a foster home with strangers? Or a group home?”

“Rose, I am not an expert at these kinds of cases, but I think you’re safe.”

“If they try to take me, will you be my lawyer?”

He pulled his hat low and sighed. “I’m not a lawyer but I’ll do what I can to make sure they don’t take you from Gladys.”

She wrapped her arms around him in a quick hug. “I hope she stays.”

“What?” He shook his head at the quick change. “You were just saying you want her out.”

“I mean Laurel. I hope she stays. It would be easier for Gladys to keep me if she had help. The caseworker says all the time that Gladys is eighty and probably too old to raise a teenager. If Laurel stays...”

Yeah, yeah, he got it. If Laurel stayed, Rose would be happy. Gladys would be happy. Everyone would be happy. Except Laurel, he suspected.

Cameron needed to get home and focus on his life, instead of getting involved in the lives of these three ladies.

“I should have come down when Mom visited,” Laurel inserted. “I’m sorry.”

“Life is full of regrets, Laurel. We can’t let them eat us up. Instead we make the best of the days we’ve got. You learn something about that when you take a hair-turning ride on a half-broke horse.” She took hold of her granddaughter’s arm. “Sit down. I think we have a lot to discuss and Cameron won’t be able to contain Rose for very long. The girl has so much energy. Home sweet home. Have a seat.”

“It’s nice,” Laurel offered.

Gladys sat on the straight-back chair near the window. “Oh, it isn’t nice. It’s necessary. And it’s a reason to work hard on my physical therapy and get home.”

“I’m sorry,” Laurel said as she took a seat on the bed.

“Don’t be. I’m glad you’re here. If I’d known it took surgery to get you here, I would have tried it sooner.”

“Don’t.”

“I’m kidding.” Gladys shifted to pull the blinds closed and block the sun, which had suddenly decided to shine through the window. “How long will you be able to stay?”

“I planned on just over a week.”

“I see. Well, I plan on getting out of here as soon as possible. Your mother told me about your bakery.”

Of course she had. “Yes, I guess it was the wrong time to start a business.”

“It’s always iffy when you start up something like that. And I heard about the boyfriend, too.”

“It seems you and Mom have talked a lot.”

Gladys looked surprised by that. “Well, of course—she’s my daughter. We talk several times a week.”

She should have known that. Of course her mother and grandmother talked on the phone. Patricia Adams might dislike her hometown but she loved her mother. Her visits to Hope had been more frequent than Laurel’s. Since Laurel moved off on her own, her mother had returned each summer to spend a week in Hope.

“So your boyfriend turned out to be a cheater. And your bakery went belly-up. Time to reinvent yourself and start over.”

Her mother and grandmother were definitely cut from the same cloth. It was hard to think about starting over when she’d thought the bakery was her new start.

“Has your mother told you that she’s thinking about moving here?”

Another bomb dropped without warning. “No, she hasn’t. I mean, I think she mentioned it in passing. But she also mentioned Florida. Anywhere warm and away from the city.”

“Yes, I know she’s considered Florida but lately we’ve talked more about her moving here. I should have let her tell you.”

“It’s okay. I can handle hearing that she might have plans for her future.”

“Laurel, I’m just so glad to see you.” Gladys reached for her hand. Laurel took the cool, thin fingers in her own and warmed them.

“I’m glad to see you, too, Grandma. Is there anything I can bring you?” She grinned. “Other than a Christmas tree?”

Her grandmother laughed. “You’ll get me kicked out of here. But maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.” She was quiet for a moment, then she sighed. “You could bring me a home-cooked meal.”

“I’ll bring you lunch tomorrow.”

They chatted for several more minutes, then silence. Laurel looked down at her hands, wondering, as she often did, if they were “his” hands, Curt Jackson’s. They weren’t her mother’s. Her mom had long slim fingers. Laurel’s fingers weren’t long. She had strong hands.

“Is Curt Jackson my father?” she asked without preamble.

“Oh, goodness,” Gladys gasped. “Well...”

“He was leaving just as I got here, so I know you probably know he was here.”

Gladys nodded. “He was here visiting his mother. She had a stroke not long after his father passed. But the rest, that’s something your mother needs to tell you.”

“So he is my father? Have you always known?”

Gladys shook her head. “No.”

Laurel felt like she was falling apart inside. Like everyone she’d counted on had lied to her. They had, she supposed. Probably with good intentions but it didn’t feel good or right.

“Laurel, your mother had her reasons.”

“Really? She had reasons for not telling me who my father is? Maybe he didn’t want me. Maybe he wouldn’t have been a part of my life. But a name would have been nice. When everyone else in this tiny, gossipy town was talking about me, knowing things or acting as if they knew, it would have been nice if I had known.”

“This isn’t a bad town,” Gladys inserted. “Most of the people in Hope are good people. There are always a few busybodies.”

“Yes, I know.” Laurel wiped a hand over her face, trying to pull herself together. “What do I do now? I don’t want to be the town scandal again.”

Gladys reached for her hand. “You were never a scandal and still aren’t. Thirty years ago, two young people made a mistake. But you’re not a mistake. You’re my granddaughter. You are your mother’s joy. And your father would like to get to know you. He regrets not being a part of your life.”

“That’s something he should tell me himself. You’ll say whatever you need to say to make me feel better. It’s your job as a grandmother.”

Gladys laughed at that. “I do love you, honey, but I promise, I won’t say what makes you feel good. If you need honesty, I’ll give it to you.”

“Thank you,” Laurel said as she scooted off the bed and leaned to kiss her grandmother’s cheek. “Is there anything you need me to do while I’m here?”

“Take care of Rose. Make sure if that caseworker calls or comes around that she knows Rose is safe and I’ll be home soon. Every time I take a breath, they threaten to take that girl away. She doesn’t need to be moved again.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Laurel promised.

“And you’ll be nice to my neighbor?” Gladys reached out a hand. “Help me up.”

“I doubt I’ll see much of him. He doesn’t seem to be a social butterfly.”

Gladys smiled at that. “No, but Rose has taken it upon herself to drag him out from time to time. Also, Rose likes church. She’s involved in the youth group. It gives her something to do with her time aside from school, and it keeps her out of trouble.”

“I doubt that.”

Gladys laughed. “Well, maybe you’re right. But still...it helps.”

“Do you still go to Hope Community.”

“I do,” Gladys confirmed. “Don’t get that look on your face. You can’t make judgments based on the people and situations from twenty years ago.”

“I know.”

Something in her face must have given her away because Gladys pointed a finger at her. “You have to go with her.”

“I’d rather not, Gran.”

“There are always things we’d rather not do. But we do them because it’s right. I hadn’t planned on taking in a teenager at my age. Yet here I am. We never know what God has in front of us, Laurel, but we can rest assured He has a plan.”

A knock on the door ended their conversation.

“Come in,” Gladys called in a singsong voice.

Dora stepped through the door, a hand on Rose’s shoulder. The girl squirmed out from under the hand and hurried to Laurel’s side.

“This young woman brought a kitten into our facility and it frightened one of our residents and then climbed the curtains. She and her kitten need to leave.”

“Oh, fine, kick me out.” Rose put a hand over the hissing feline in her pocket. “Me and Christmas. Kicked to the curb like yesterday’s bad news.”

“That is not what I’m doing,” Dora exclaimed. Her gaze shot to Gladys. “Gladys, I am not responsible for eliminating Christmas from this facility. Just the tree.”

“And gifts for residents who have no family,” Gladys reminded. “Don’t worry about it, Dora, we’ll think of something.”

Dora nodded, then gave Rose another hard glare. “The child and the kitten need to leave now.”

Gladys waved her away. “We understand. I’ll say goodbye and they’ll go. Thank you, Dora.”

Dora gave them one last look that said she clearly didn’t trust them and then she left the room.

Gladys climbed onto her bed. “I’ve always liked Dora. She lives in Grove and she’s been the administrator here for years. But this new owner, she’s just caved to them.”

“Probably out of her control,” Laurel offered. “She needs the job and they’re calling the shots.”