receptionist say to them, “Don’t kill all the birdies!”
They bypassed the loading dock, and as Mr. Beaulieu opened the door to the storage room, he said, “You don’t have to decide now, but pick whatever furniture you wish and then let one of our maintenance people know and they’ll move the items to your studio. The only thing we don’t have available is beds. You’ll need to bring your own, as there is a law that does not allow used beds.”
They walked on and stopped at the lounge, which was a large room decked out with couches, chairs, game card tables, and a long desk with several desktop computers next to one wall. Against another stood shelf cases housing board games like chess, checkers, backgammon, and monopoly, as well as dominos, pick-up-sticks, playing cards and some hi-tech toys. There was a woman hovering over a desktop PC. Huber was unsure if she was doing research on the internet or playing a computer game. A couple of other residents were watching the news on a big screen T.V.
Her guide said, “Our lounge is where all residents mingle and socialize or just relax. This is where our activity coordinator, Hailey Sparks, organizes entertainment, such as BINGO, concerts, and talent shows. There isn’t much going on in here at this time of the day, but before and after dinner the lounge gets jumping.” And he added, “If you have any special expertise or talent, talk to Ms. Sparks. She’s always looking for new forms of entertainment.”
Next door was the library, and adjacent to that, an elegant little room serving as café and tea room, named Tiki Bar. The Polynesian décor with its bamboo plants, indoor fountain, and murals of palm trees, sandy beaches, and hula girls gave the place a romantic touch. There were several old folks sipping their mid-morning tea or coffee. Some looked up and smiled, while others did not seem to notice the Executive Director with the new resident.
An open passage from the Tiki Bar led to the playroom, which had game tables, like ping pong and foosball, but without a doubt, the main attraction was a standard-size pool table. R. A. was impressed.
Mr. Beaulieu gave her a quick peek into the chapel, which stood as a separate small structure between the independent residential and the assisted living buildings. The modest house of worship was flanked by rows of fragrant white gardenia shrubs. About 20 yards behind the chapel was the fenced-in tennis court and next to it the indoor swimming pool. After passing the chapel once more, they walked straight to the large building that housed the independent residents.
Before they entered it, he pointed across a covered connecting passageway and said, “That leads to the assisted living wing, which you most likely will not get to experience. They have their separate dining room.”
As he guided her through the ground floor of the independents building - - showing her the laundry room, a spa and hair salon, a gym with workout equipment, and the pleasant-looking dining room - - Huber felt confident that she would enjoy her stay.
“And now,” he said, “let me show you the studio we have available for you.”
On the elevator ride up to the fourth floor, he informed her that there were five stories, housing up to 50 independent residents, whereas the building across the walkway had only two floors with 20 assisted living folks. He added, “Naturally, residents confined to a wheelchair or the ones needing multiple assistance reside on the ground floor. We have a staff of compassionate caregivers in the assisted living wing. Should you at some time in the future need special care, we’ll make sure that the transition and relocation to those living quarters will be made easy and smooth for you.”
Huber’s soon-to-be studio was a corner room with a view of the beach. The kitchenette appeared to be minuscule, but then she only planned to brew coffee or tea in it. She surveyed the empty space and tried to visualize a few pieces of furniture she had spotted in the storeroom as a possible fit. A glance into the bathroom met with her approval. Tub, sink, and toilet all looked squeaky clean. Then she went out onto the balcony and looked down to the ocean. She saw a yacht gliding over the calm sea in the distance. On shore, she observed a jogger parallel to the water’s edge and a couple of figures ambling slowly along the walkway between her building and the stretch of sand leading to the ocean. She thought of poor Mrs. Ralph and almost jumped, when the man standing behind her said, “The beach is our most sought-after asset!”
Later, as R. A. drove out of the facility’s underground garage, she thought, I’m in, and so far, no one has singled me out as an imposter.
At the same time Dave Beaulieu sat in his office and rehashed the orientation meeting he had just completed. The woman had been straightforward enough, yet, there was something about her that suggested a red flag. He couldn’t put his finger on it, though, and decided he was probably mistaken.
CHAPTER 4
Peter was still mad at his spouse and wanted nothing to do with her move. She purchased a cheap twin bed plus bedding, having it delivered, and Andi helped her with the rest of the move, mainly a few suitcases filled with things that would keep her going for about a month. She could have easily handled the luggage on her own but asked Andi along for comfort and company. It also seemed a good idea to familiarize the young woman with the territory, since she was the head investigator.
Besides the bed, Huber’s studio apartment now was furnished with a nightstand, a mirror-dresser, an Ottoman chair plus end table, and a 24” TV. Nothing matched, but the items were functional. There was a built-in wall safe, and after reading the instructions, she programed it with a new six-digit code. She then took her .25 pistol out of her purse and placed it into the safe.
Andi had followed her former boss to Ventura in the Harley-Davidson, and after settling into her apartment at Shore Haven, Huber took her on a tour of the grounds.
Before they headed out the studio door, she warned, “Don’t call me Mrs. Huber while on this assignment. I’ve listed you as a distant relative.”
“I’ll call you Auntie. Okay?”
“Perfect!”
Andi was captivated with the tennis court, the indoor swimming pool, and the spacious lounge, but what really blew her away was the playroom.
She exclaimed, “Holy Krewe! I’d be tickled pink if I were you, Auntie.”
The two men shooting pool halted their game and the blue-eyed one said, “The name’s Tom, and my buddy is Bill.” And addressing Huber he continued, “With whom do we have the pleasure?”
“I’m R. A., and Andi helped me move here.”
“Welcome!” Then he took in Andi’s unruly auburn hair, long legs clad in skinny jeans, leather jacket and cowboy boots. He beamed at her, saying, “We don’t see enough young things around here. You, my dear, are a real treat for sore eyes.”
“Thank you, sir!”
“Is that a motorcycle helmet hanging from your bag?”
“Yes, sir. I ride a Harley.”
“I’m impressed. And you’re a Southern Belle to boot! Tell me, what ‘holy’ something did you refer to when you first came in?”
“Oh that!” Embarrassed, she explained, “Sometimes I can’t help myself when I get excited. A Krewe is an organization that parades at Mardi Gras.”
Bill, who was bald and had an athlete’s body, did not say a word, but impatiently chalked his cue stick, antsy to get back to the game.
Huber apologized,
